Succubus Summoning 209 (part 3)

Still just about keeping to a daily schedule by the seat of my pants.  As I'm being a little faster and looser with the editing than normal, there will be a few typos and other stupid errors.  Some people commented and pointed out the mistakes they'd spotted yesterday.  Thanks for that and keep it up.

Anyway, back to Phil...

* * * *

Nÿte led Phil through a series of corridors and then out through a metal door at the base of one of the towers.  They were outside.  The pink sky was far above them and a slight breeze carried faint traces of sultry perfume.  This side of the castle was perched on a rocky promontory.  Rough-hewn steps in the stone wall curled down to a round structure that resembled a miniature coliseum.  As they descended Phil was able to peer over the circular walls and see an arena floored with black sand.

It looked like—

“Is that a fighting arena?” Phil asked.

Nÿte nodded.  “One of my favourite parts of the castle.”

That the succubi’s castle had its own fighting arena didn’t come as that much of a surprise to Phil.

“This is more of that catering to all kinds of fetish thing, isn’t it?” Phil said.

“Yes,” Nÿte said.  “Some like to play with themes of submission and dominance in a more physical manner.  Our little arena makes a perfect playground.  I like to spar here with daemons from the other dominions as well.  I believe succubi should extend their abilities beyond the arts of pleasure.”

“We’re going to spar?”  Phil asked, dreading her answer.  He knew from experience Nÿte took a lot of pleasure in inflicting pain.

“Not today,” Nÿte said in a way that implied they would at some not-quite-so distant point in Phil’s future.  “You have some unfinished business to attend to first.”

Phil was still pondering what she meant as they reached the base of the steps and walked up a short flight of steps that terminated in a massive curved gate that resembled a giant vagina.  Steps curled away along the inside of the walls and up into the stands on either side of the entrance.  Nÿte carried straight on down a wide tunnel and took Phil through a small door on the left.  They walked along a narrow stone corridor and then entered a small stone room where the other succubi were waiting for him.

With them was a figure Phil recognised.  It looked like a young man in baggy blue jeans, a Slayer T-shirt and a knitted blue bobble hat.  He was wearing an oversized pair of headphones.  Phil knew him.  His name was Carnivrillarofax.  He was a Kullockian rage daemon and a good deal more fearsome than his mild art-student appearance suggested.

“’Sup,” Carny said to Phil.

“Hi,” Phil said back.

While Carny was a terrifyingly deadly rage daemon, he’d never been anything less than friendly to Phil.  Actually, for something that was capable of tearing a person’s arm off in the blink of an eye, Carny was a pretty decent bloke.

“Carnivrillarofax is our special guest,” Nurse Honey said.

Cέrμləa, back in her little girl form, bobbed excitedly in front of the older succubus.  “We have a surprise for you,” she said.  “And Carny’s here to watch.”

Good surprise?  Bad surprise?  Phil looked at the faces of the daemons.  They weren’t giving anything away.

“I’ll go and get it ready,” Nÿte said.  Her high heels clicked against the stone floor as she left the room.

“What combat magic do you know?” Carny asked.  “I never got a chance to see it when we last met.”

When they’d last met Phil had spent most of the time semi-conscious on the floor while Rosa and Carny had torn through a pub of hooligans.

“A little,” Phil said.  “I know some defensive shields—magic and daemon—and some summons and dismissals.  At Wargsnouts we don’t get to learn offensive magic until the 3rd year.  I’ve been learning some fire magic with Cέrμləa, though.”

Carny looked alarmed.  He looked at the other succubi.  “Are you sure he’s ready for this?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” Rosa said.  “He responds best under pressure.”

Carny continued to look doubtful.

“Okay okay, I’ll give him some extra fire magic to help out,” Rosa said.

She walked over to Phil and held out her hand.  A little ball of fire popped into existence and floated above her palm.

“So you know how this bit works?” she asked.

Phil nodded.  “It’s an extension of the soul,” he said.

Rosa looked aghast.  “Cέrμləa!” she turned and glowered at the little daemon with spiky blue hair.

Cέrμləa looked at the floor.  “Sowwee,” she said.  “I started with the simple explanation, the one that college tells their first and second years.”

Rosa shook her head.  “The soul can’t generate that level of energy.  The fire is summoned from the Elemental Plane of Consumas Infernum that lies at the intersection of the Dominions of Lust, Gluttony and Wrath.”

“We can always postpone this until he’s had more time,” Carny suggested.  “I’m okay with that.”

Rosa ignored him and carried on with her explanation.

“The fire isn’t truly sentient, but it can respond to its summoner’s will.  For beginners there are various words that aid in focusing and transmitting their desires.

“Flambasglob.”  Rosa threw a fireball at the stone wall.

“Flambas-Ejaculax.”  A tongue of flame jetted out of her palm and licked the stone wall.

“Shelduk nidafacii Flambastinaai.”  Flames span and formed a Catherine wheel shield about a foot and a half in diameter.

“Gladucx nidafacii Flambastinaai.”  Flames extended in her other hand to form a sword.

“There’s also Immolatum nida Flambastinaai.”  A flickering nimbus of flames surrounded Rosa’s body.  “The flames won’t burn the summoner’s flesh, but they will set fire to your clothes and anything else around you.”

She closed her hand into a fist and the flames flickered out.

“Get all that?”  Rosa smiled at him.

“Uh,” Phil said.  The words span around in his brain and fell down a black whirlpool of misapprehension.  He wasn’t sure he liked where all this was going.

“Oh, and this is important,” Rosa said, holding up a finger.  “The flames nibble on the spiritual energy of the summoner as the price for summoning them.  Summon too many or run out of energy to feed them and your soul will catch alight and you’ll burn to a crisp.  Many a stupid warlock has gone out that way.”

Phil’s eyes boggled in fear.

“Really, I can do this some other time,” Carny said.

Rosa put an arm around Phil and smiled at the rage daemon.  “He’ll be fine,” she said.

“There are other forces you can call on,” Verdé said.  “The heart of the Qištu is close to here.  It will listen to even the quietest and most inexperienced voices.  Ĝiškimiti za bursaĝ ul Urpâdu ni Guberim li Išduum Qištu.”

She held out a hand and tugged upwards as if pulling on an invisible rope.  Vines erupted out of the stone floor and tangled around Rosa’s ankles and lower calves.

“Don’t confuse the poor boy with too much,” Rosa said.  She snapped her fingers and the green tendrils caught fire and burnt to ash.  “They’re weak to fire, so he should use that.”

They?

Phil wished someone would tell him what was going on.  Instead Rosa steered him through another door and then down some steps that terminated in a corridor leading out to the arena floor.  The daemons left him there.  Verdé was last to go.  She blew him a kiss that tingled on his lips.

Phil looked ahead at the archway.  His heart fluttered anxiously in his chest.  He knew by now that turning around and running away was not an option.  He took a deep breath, walked through the archway and stepped out onto the black sands of the arena floor.

And it was an amphitheatre—a coliseum in miniature.  The central arena was a circle of around thirty metres in diameter.  It was surrounded by a stone wall about ten feet high.  Above the wall, stone benches provided seating in rising concentric rows.  Metal portcullises were set into the wall at regular intervals.

No cheering greeted Phil as he entered the arena.  Most of the seating was empty.  The succubi and Carny were sitting together up on the top row to his left.  Cέrμləa sat perched on the edge of her seat, her hands pressed against the sides of her face.  Rosa lounged casually next to her.  Carny sat in the middle and looked as chilled as ever.  Nurse Honey sat next to him, looking regal despite wearing a fetishized nurse’s outfit.  Verdé joined them and sat elegantly on the end.  Nÿte was missing.

“Savour this,” Rosa called down.

The succubi weren’t the only audience.  Puff and Pfaffle were sitting in the middle row on the other side of the amphitheatre.  They acknowledged his presence with a languid wave.

Phil’s heart continued to thud loudly in his chest.  He had a horrible feeling they expected him to fight something and he felt woefully unprepared.  Wargsnouts students were strictly forbidden from engaging in magical duels until their fifth year.

A heavy black portcullis slammed down behind him and Phil jumped.  Well that was that.  Definitely no running away now.

Nÿte emerged on the other side of the arena.  She was not alone.  Walking next to her was a daemon that was half human and half spider.  A naked, pale-skinned female torso rose up out of a black bulbous abdomen.  She walked on eight spindly legs.

Phil recognised her.

Fuck

L’mactia.

* * * *

to be continued (because I'm a bastard and drop cliffhangers right in the middle of chapters) . . .

Part 4 here

Succubus Summoning 209 (part 2)

* * * *

Darvill cursed himself for his stupidity as soon as he stepped through the door.  Too rash.  Too hurried.  He’d expected there to be security measures put in place by the portal creator to prevent unwanted intrusions.  He’d searched for the obvious traps—things to maim and kill—but the portal creator had been more subtle than that.

He’d felt the shift in destination and the others being pulled away from him the moment they’d entered the door.  He understood too late.  The countermeasures hadn’t been designed to prevent intruders from entering, but to scatter them and leave them isolated on the other side.  Vulnerable.  Easier to pick off.  It was a subtle redirect hidden within the operations of the portal, but one he would—should—have spotted had he not been in so much of a rush.

Rash.  Stupid.

And now they were all dead.

Or might as well be.  Four novice warlocks, alone with only their daemons for company, in hell.  He didn’t like their chances.

At least he hadn’t been teleported right into the lap of a lust daemon.  He’d materialised in a luxurious bedchamber, thankfully empty.  There was an enchantment on the enormous and inviting bed—presumably to charm the weak-willed into climbing in and staying there until the succubus returned to fuck out their soul.  The charm wasn’t very strong.  Darvill ignored it and sat cross-legged in the centre of the room.  He cleared his mind, focused, and carried out a weaker form of the soul divination ritual they’d used to locate Gary Dever.  This time he was looking for the others as well as Gary.

He felt responsible.

Morally, he knew he should have come alone.  This was too dangerous for novices, even accomplished ones.

Pragmatically, he knew he needed the support of Herbie and the others.  The odds of him being able to do this on his own were far too slim.

Now, through his carelessness, he had the worst of both worlds.  He’d put them all at risk and he was on his own.

He dripped blood into the bowl of water he’d placed in front of him.  A swirl of a finger revealed complex and baroque schematics.  This was a large structure, maybe some kind of castle.  He found Herbie and Joey.  Herbie was about three or four floors up, same as Darvill, but on the far side of the building.  Joey was about two or three or floors below ground level, possibly in some kind of basement or cellar.  Jack took longer to find.  The portal had deposited him some way outside the main building and the little glowing dot indicating his presence was some distance removed from their location.

He found Gary as well.  Maybe.  The signal was blurry and indistinct.  It should have showed up stronger now they were on the same plane.  It was possible there were a lot of other souls in the same area interfering with the divination.  That could be a good thing.  Maybe he was being held with other humans as food for the daemons to consume later.

Later was better than already consumed.

The signal was also close by, maybe a couple of floors above him and over to the north.  Of the four of them, Darvill was the closest.

It wasn’t just about finding Gary.  They also had to find a way back to Earth.

Darvill grimaced as he opened up another cut in his arm and dripped more blood into the bowl.  This time he was looking for the telltale folds and rents in the fabric of reality that indicated the presence of stable portals.

Oh wow, that was complex.  An extra-dimensional system of tunnels and shortcuts was revealed to him.  They permeated through the building like some kind of twisted root system.  It was the central branch Darvill was after.  He didn’t have the power to open any of the sub-branches from this side.  The central branch would be permanently open, though, otherwise the whole portal system would collapse.

And there it was.  Almost right in the centre of the building and not far from Herbie.  Secretly Darvill was relieved it was further away than Gary.  It lessoned the temptation to do the rational thing and head straight for the exit.

The lines in the bowl started to shift and blur.  Darvill’s brow furrowed.  His puzzlement changed to alarm as the lines resolved into the face of a young girl with spiky hair and horns.  Curious, she looked up out of the bowl at Darvill.

He knocked the bowl over, spilling the contents onto the plush carpet and terminating the divination ritual.  That was an unpleasant surprise.  He hadn’t known it was possible to look back through a divination spell and see the castor.

He stood up and rolled his shirt sleeves further up his arms.  Using his knife he carved an anti-lust ward in each forearm.  He assumed the others had carried out the same divination ritual he had.  They would be heading here to find him.  In the meantime he would look for Gary, pull him out if he could, wait for the others if he couldn’t.

It was a plan.  He didn’t like his chances, but at least he had a plan.  All that was left was to execute it and hope the obstacles in the way of that plan were not beyond his ability to overcome them.

* * * *

Part 3 here

Succubus Summoning 209 (part 1)

I didn't get as much editing done on Succubus Summoning 209 over the weekend as I'd have liked.  When it comes to editing I'm a bit of a faffer.  209 is an enormous 10K words, but it does break down nicely into a number of sub-chapters.  As I do tend to faff when it comes to final edits I'd thought I'd put myself under a bit more pressure.  I haven't posted the whole thing to Literotica yet.  I'm going to start posting the sub-chapters here daily (ulp!) and see if I can have regular updates here and have the full Literotica version come out before I post the last part.

(This is going to go so horribly wrong . . .)

209 is a little more plot-heavy.  There is sexy stuff, but it will be near the end.  In the meantime here's Nÿte being utterly terrifying again.

Succubus Summoning 209 (part 1)

Phil felt the same degree of trepidation he always felt when entering Nÿte’s domain.  In contrast to the rest of the succubi’s castle—where the decor was opulent and sensually decadent—Nÿte’s area resembled a dungeon, or the headquarters of a perverse and sadistic Satanic cult.  As he walked down the stone corridors he imagined he could hear the ghostly screams of past torment.

He was here because Nÿte had insisted she be involved with his extra tuition.  Phil was not altogether happy with this.

He paused at the obsidian side entrance to her throne room and gathered up the courage to open the door.  He took a deep breath, walked inside and was about to approach Nÿte’s throne when he realised that—once again—he’d managed to walk in on something else.

Phil glimpsed a large, bulky figure making its way up the central path.  He ducked away out of sight behind one of the many black pillars that lined the central walkway.

Not a warlock this time.  Or even human.  He watched as a corpulent daemon ambled along the path towards where Nÿte sat waiting on her black throne.  It was white-skinned, hairless and wrinkled like a mole, and grossly obese.  Oddly, the face was out of keeping with the rest of the daemon’s grotesque body.  It was handsome in that rugged way that used to be commonplace amongst the leading men of old movies.  Apart from the eyes.  They were vacant and together with a slackness of expression suggested some degree of mental retardation.

It definitely wasn’t human.  A long appendage, like an elephant’s trunk, dangled from its waist.  The organ was white and wrinkled.  It resembled a giant maggot and dragged on the floor between the monster’s legs.  Phil’s felt a shudder of revulsion when he realised it was the daemon’s enormous penis.

The thing walked with a bow-legged gait and as it passed Phil’s hiding spot he saw the reason why.  An enormous pair of hairless testicles, as big as footballs, swung between the daemon’s legs.

Nÿte shifted position.  Her black eyes shone with interest as the daemon approached her throne and went down on one knee in supplication.  Phil’s gorge rose as he realised the daemon was carrying a severed head.  Its meaty paw was wrapped around a twisted rope of ginger hair and the rest of the head hung underneath like a ghastly morning star.  The daemon held up its hand and presented the head to Nÿte as if it was an offering.  Then, its gift delivered, the corpulent daemon stood up and ambled back down the central pathway between the obsidian pillars.  Its gargantuan sex organ dragged between its legs, leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

The succubus examined her gift.  The severed head was closer to a skull.  Most of the soft tissues had already sloughed away.  Nÿte kissed the head on the remnants of its lips and the remaining flesh blackened and disintegrated into fine ash.  Nÿte held aloft the bleached white skull, a cruel smile of triumph on her black lips.

“You can come out now,” she said, not even bothering to turn her head to look at Phil.

He shuffled out from behind the pillar.

Nÿte inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes.  “I do like the smell of your fear,” she said.  “It will be a pity when we’ve trained you up enough to not be frightened of a minor equuphalloid incubus.”

Phil looked the other way down the path towards where the daemon had exited.  “That was an incubus?” he said.

“A more primal and brutish type, but yes, an incubus.”

“I thought they were supposed to be . . . well . . . sexy,” Phil said.

“Don’t be too hard on our equuphalloid friend,” Nÿte said.  “You didn’t see him at his best.  equuphalloid incubi are prodigiously endowed.  When fully erect they look rather buff.  When not erect . . . well that extra blood has to be stored somewhere, hence our friend’s rather flabby appearance.”

Phil pictured that monstrous cock fully erect and immediately wished he could scrub the image from his brain.

Nÿte laughed at Phil’s disgust.  “The full range of what people find sexy is broad and varied.  The Dominion of Lust caters to all.  Personally I find equuphalloid incubi to be a little too simple-minded and simple-minded beings are so limited in how you can play with them.  Equuphalloid incubi do have their uses though.”

She tilted the bleached skull in her hands, examining it from different angles as if it was a piece of fine art.

Phil’s vision wavered and he thought he saw some kind of shadowy miasma floating around the skull.  It even looked like a . . .

Oh dear fuck.

It was a face.  The mouth was open in a soundless scream of fear and pain.  The soul.  It was the soul of a person, now trapped within the lifeless shell of their skull.

“Oh, you see it,” Nÿte said.  “Good, that means your attunement is growing.”

She tossed the skull aside.  It joined the other skulls heaped around the legs of her throne.

“I wouldn’t shed a tear for that one,” she said.

Phil looked at the pile.  All of the skulls possessed the same shadow image of a face.  They stretched and tugged, but were unable to escape their bone prisons.  Trapped, they screamed in eternal torment.

Nÿte bounced off her throne and ran a long nail along the line of Phil’s jaw.  “I was hoping I might have your skull one day,” she whispered in his ear.

Phil blanched.  He looked at the pile of screaming skulls heaped around Nÿte’s throne.  He saw too that the pile didn’t begin at the floor.  There was a pit dug out beneath the black chair.  He didn’t want to think how deep that pit went or how long the bottommost skull had lain there.

“Oh, I wouldn’t put you there,” Nÿte said.  “That’s for the trash.”

She took his hand and led him to a set of heavy black drapes at the back of the room.  She pulled them aside to reveal an alcove containing a set of shelves.  Each shelf contained a neat row of bleached white skulls.

“I’d make space for you here.”

The shadow faces on these skulls were calmer.  Nÿte plucked a skull from the shelf and passionately kissed its rictus grin.  The shadow-soul face returned the kiss with the same ardour.  It was smiling when Nÿte placed the skull back on the shelf.

“So many,” Nÿte said.  “I do worry I neglect some of them sometimes.”

She drew the drapes back.  Phil wished he could do the same to his memory of that alcove filled with row after row of living skulls.

Nÿte put an arm around Phil’s waist and turned him back towards the exit.

“I really do like the way you smell when you’re terrified.  It gives me the strong urge to ravish you right here and now.”

She gave his waist a squeeze.

“But that will have to wait until later.  There’s the second part of your business to conclude.”

* * * *

Part 2 here

Resurrecting the #DailyWriting Tag

For most of last year I used the #DailyWriting tag on twitter as an aid to writing.  I set a target of either typing at least 500 words or handwriting 3 notebook pages a day (roughly 1-2 hours of writing).  Before going to bed I'd tweet the word/page count.  I doubt the people of twitter cared either way, but having the illusion of witnesses was a good way to keep me honest.  It was a good discipline aid.  One of the best tips for writing is to make it a habit.  Once it becomes a habit it's a lot easier to keep the words flowing and a few pages every night eventually pile up into a full novel.

I stopped doing it earlier this year.  A big part of that reason was because I'd become pissed off with twitter and all the self-righteous, holier-than-thou jerks that stink out the place.  It was also because I was worried it had become a creative straitjacket - that I'd end up joylessly grinding out a bare minimum of useless words every night because of trying to keep to arbitrary targets.

I was also worried about how it would look on my twitter feed.  Posting word counts is often sneered at as something those vulgar self-published types do.  It's just not the done thing.

By the way, that reason above is without a doubt the stupidest reason of the lot.  A quick check of most of the more vocal, sneery writery types on social media will reveal them to be rather light in the publishing credits column.  Give those characters a wide berth (and most online writing communities in general, though there are exceptions) and your muse (and readers) will thank you.

Anyway, I decided to stop using the #DailyWriting tag.  I was getting the pages done anyway and there was no need to bore the world with the proof.  Then indiscipline crept in.  A couple of weeks ago I was off work and had a good writing week where I finally burst through a Succubus Summoning chapter that had been blocking me for a while, as well as finishing off another short story that had been clogging up the tubes for a bit.  Then the following week I was a lazy cunt and barely got anything done at all.

After that I decided to resurrect the #DailyWriting tag.  I'm a shameful procrastinator.  Once I start writing I can normally clock in a good hour or two.  Starting that first hour and not bumming around on facebook or youtube is the problem.  It's surprising how much difference a little tag can make.  When I stopped using it I'd have those nights where I'd fart around until the clock ticked past midnight and then think, fuck it, it's too late.  The first night I decided to start using it again the same thing happened, but instead of going to bed I thought, no, let's get those 3 pages written first.  Sometimes a little psychological push is all that's required.

So the #DailyWriting tag is back and you can follow my feed here:
https://twitter.com/manyeyedhydra

It also has the nice side effect of reassuring people I'm still alive and writing during those periods when this blog goes quiet.  I know a few people were concerned about that given the shit that went on earlier in the year.  It should also give an idea of what I'm working on currently and how far along I am.  (The next chapter of Succubus Summoning needs a further 2.5-3K words typed up and a full edit before posting).

Random update to reassure people I'm still alive

Oops.  Saw PaperClip's comment on the last post and realised my going quiet here combined with some of the unfortunate nastiness from the start of the year might have led people to draw the wrong conclusions.  I thought I should post something here in case people were concerned and before I get a reputation as a serial internet flouncer.

Dark Souls 2 was fun.  About 100+ hours of fun to be exact.  That's part of the reason why I try to avoid computer RPGs now.  The Dark Souls series is one I'll make an exception for.  While the sequel isn't as strong as its predecessor, it's still damn good.  I've completed the main story and while I'm still playing it, it's more an hour or so here and there rather than must-rush-home-from-work-and-play-until-1am.

I did think about writing a few blog posts on reviews/hints and tactics, and some other blog posts on other things, but decided that the time I was spending on trying to scratch blog posts together was writing time I should be spending on stories and more particularly Succubus Summoning 201.  If it's not something I can hammer out quickly, it's time I should be spending on a new chapter/story.

Real life work has kept me a little busier than normal.  My usual writing method is to write longhand in notepads and then type up afterwards.  While the writing longhand in notepads might sound a little 1800s, it works for me as pen ink can't be backspaced and rewriting a first draft improves it a great deal.  My usual writing work day is to stay behind after work to do the typing up and maybe do a couple of hours of handwritten drafts before I go to bed.  For the last couple of weeks those couple of extra hours have needed to be spent on the day job instead.  Such are the realities of the hobbyist author with a 9-to-5 (or 7 in this case) job to pay the bills.

The Easter break was pretty good for me as I managed to get my head down and back to the notepads/typing.  After postponing the last collection I turned on ChaosWriting, which promptly thought trying to start two brand new novels and four new short stories was a good idea.  Oh ChaosWriting, you naughty little scamp you.  It's a pretty good methodology for being prolific with short stories, but you never know what's going to fall off the production line next.

Since the last post I've finished another short story, done about 4,000 words of another, added another ten pages or so to Succubus Summoning, and written the first chapter of another novel (Think Violated Hero, but with the most perverse monster girls ever imagined - more on that later).  Definitely still writing, but a little slower and more chaotic than usual over the past couple of months (been that sort of year).

The next Succubus Summoning chapter should be the next thing out.  Not going to give a date as it would probably be another filthy lie.

The other reason for a lean spell at the succubus bordello here is there's been a paucity of hot new monster girl eroges.  The Violated Hero walkthrough was fun and boosted the hits.  I had plans to make these walkthroughs a regular feature . . . and then the hot new monster girl hentai games dried up (or I might have missed them - feel free to recommend any I might have overlooked in the comments below).  After a lean spell it looks like Dieselmine has come to the rescue with an add-on for Violated Hero 4 featuring Lilith, the vacuum cleaner robot girl and two new fan-made girls that didn't make the full game.  Yep, I will be blogging that, just as I did with the full game.

As with the ending to the other post - still here, still writing, not going away anytime soon, but unfortunately still hopelessly chaotic when it comes to writing new stuff.

So Whatever Happened to Succubus Summoning?

“When are you getting back to the Succubus Summoning series?”

I get asked this question a lot.  Rather than continue to reply to individual comments and emails I’ll answer it here.

First, some history.  A while back, when I was only writing the short horror-porn one-shots, I wrote a little HarryPotter-esque parody where two students at a college for warlocks summoned succubi for some “adult entertainment” and it went horribly wrong.  In a rare twist for me, that story ended with one of the protagonists still alive and facing an uncertain fate at the pussies of two sexy succubi.  Rather than leave it to the imagination of the reader, I returned to that story and wrote some follow-up chapters, which then became a series, and then a book.

I started a sequel (Succubus Summoning 201) and posted a few chapters online before putting it on hiatus while I untangled some of the plot developments in my head.  Back then I planned to write the whole thing as a novel, which would have the advantage of allowing me to go back and fix any obvious screw-ups if I changed my mind on the story.  Unfortunately this resulted in Succubus Summoning constantly sitting on the backburner because my novel-writing discipline is abject to say the least.

Last year I figured out where I wanted the plot to go and brought it back off hiatus with the addition of some new chapters.  I thought the monthly schedule would give me the push to keep the thing going until completion.

And then A Succubus for Remembrance got in the way.  Or rather that and the stories for the forthcoming collection (which I originally planned to put out first, but couldn’t finish in time for its release date).  Originally I was hoping to work on both simultaneously, but then time pressure started, deadlines loomed, and Succubus Summoning 201 had to go back on the backburner.  That’s the problem with naming collections after certain days of the year – they have to be out by that date.  Unfortunately I still have a full-time job eating up my day and I don’t write quickly enough to be able to work on both.

(really I should favour Succubus Summoning, as it sells more than the collections, but I’m a little stupid at these things)

Anyway, to cut a long story short:

I haven’t lost interest in the series, or enthusiasm.  I’m not going to abandon it.  As soon as I’m done with the next collection I intend going back to Succubus Summoning and working on that until the current arc (201) is finished (there will be future arcs).  After that there are some new Jackson in HRPG-World sections I want to write.

I’ll keep working on short stories (my ideas file grows at the rate of two new ideas for every story completed!), but I’m going to wait until I’ve built up a nice stockpile again before I put out another collection as writing specifically for a collection seems to slow me down more than just writing the short stories/chapters that feel like fun to write at the time.

I’m far more productive when I fully embrace ChaosWriting, but that does occasionally fuck up deadlines and the orderly production of new series chapters.

Apologies for the delays for fans of the series.  With a bit of luck Phil and his succubi’s adventures will restart Mar/Apr.

Succubus Summoning 207 and Plot vs Porn

It wasn't quite the first week of July as I was hoping, but I did finally manage to post Succubus Summoning 207 up on Literotica last week.  It was an awkward chapter to write as it features the reality-bending, fourth-wall-breaking Cέrμləa and her mind-melting description of how the universe of Succubus Summoning works (and also a few oblique hints to my other stories as well).

I was curious to see how this chapter would be received.

Anonymous - "this shit sucks!  THis is so fucking boring. Wheres all the fucking? I went fucking limp during this"

:(

Um, yeah...well...

To be fair, I'm highlighting one negative comment when most of them have been positive (thanks for those!).  Quite a few people were asking for more plot and background and I hope 207 delivered on that.

Plot versus porn is an interesting discussion.  I find a lot of modern porn a little dull and mechanical because it's completely stripped down to only the sucky-fucky.  On the other hand, in adding plot/characterization/background/etc it's easy to lose sight of what an erotica/porn story should do - arouse.  Water down the sexy bits too much and you end up with a tasteless gruel no one is going to find appetizing.  That's why I tend to stick to the classic erotica rule: Every Chapter Must Have A Sex Scene.

In this case Cέrμləa was going to provide the exposition and Ab'ĝalga the sex scene.  And then the sex scene came out...weird.  Don't get me wrong, I like how it turned out, but I'm fully aware it won't be everyone's cup of tea.  Then, given my other stories, this probably isn't much of a surprise.

The tl;dr version - this chapter was long and weird, normal succubus fucking will resume next month(ish).

And because this is probably the best place for it, here's some clarification for points raised in the Lit comments.

First off an important point on source reliability.  If you're a fan of Doctor Who you'll be aware of Moffat's "The Doctor lies" whenever a retcon is required.  Cέrμləa is a daemon.  Daemons lie.

On the inevitability of hell reabsorbing worlds - Cέrμləa perceives time very differently.  Many inevitable things take a very long time to occur.  (no one sweats that much about the sun going supernova and turning the Earth into a cinder even though this is part of the inevitable life cycle of a star)

Ab'ĝalga would have dissolved Phil if she'd decided he was too 'ordinary' (and Cέrμləa was aware of this).

Yes, there was a nod to the hell-space series of stories.

207 is at the upper range for chapter length.  It's easy for some fantasy series to get longer and longer as the writer gets more into it.  Personally I think this is a warning sign the writer is losing control of their story.  I'll be trying to get future chapters down to a more manageable 5,000 words or so (plus, I have to keep some stuff back for the inevitable ebook).

If you have any more questions/feedback feel free to put them in the comments below.

I'm aiming for first week of September for 208, although this will probably slip given my usual slowness.  It will feature Cέrμləa - or rather a facet of Cέrμləa we haven't seen before - and will see Phil visiting another dominion.

Oh, and if you ended up here because Google told you I like to blog about certain types of games and none of this post makes any sense.  Please feel free to start with this:

Available as an ebook from Amazon.  If you like games like Monster Girl Quest and Violated Hero, this book is perfect for you.

Succubus Summoning 206 posted

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Jackson in HRPG-World: 4-6 Bubble Bother

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Back by popular demand: Succubus Summoning 203 and the return of Phil

I was going to blog about this earlier, but then other things came up and I tend to abandon blog posts if they start to get grindy and scratchy.  If it’s not flowing, I’d rather I was battling to get a piece of fiction down than struggle with an ephemeral blog post no one will care about in a month’s time.

I’ve been rather sneaky.  If you check Literotica, you’ll see that after a pause of around two and a half years (has it really been that long?) I’ve finally posted Succubus Summoning 203.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t mean I’ve written the full arc.  It was what I said I was going to do, but it wasn’t coming together.  I suck at writing novels it seems.  I’m too prone to getting distracted by other projects.  My hope is that posting the chapters up on Literotica and trying to keep to a monthly schedule will provide the impetus to get it moving again.

It’s what I should have done before to be honest.  203 was an awkward chapter with a lot of new characters to introduce.  After writing the first draft I thought it might be too long and be better split in two.  But that would mean a chapter without sex.  Make people wait two and a half years and then post a chapter with no hot succubus action...that would not go down well.

So we’re back and with any luck the beginning of each month will bring a new chapter.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep to the schedule, but as long as it’s only a couple of weeks slippage rather than a couple of years I think we’ll be fine.  I hope you all enjoy the path the story takes and, as always, feedback and thoughts gratefully accepted.


P.S.  I’ll try my best not to kill him.

Cέrμləan Circles unbanned for Literotica

"Cέrμləan Circles" made it onto Literotica at the second attempt. Their first filter can be a little over-zealous sometimes. I had similar problems with "Don't Fuck The Flowers" and her first appearance in "Succubus Summoning 110". The views/votes will suffer a little (Not that I care that much about them--I enter the cash competitions with the nastiest stories I have lying around because I think it's funny) as most people will have already read the story either here or on the other places I posted it. It's good for Succubus Summoning 201. At least I don't have to worry about whether I'll be able to complete the series on Literotica.

Hmm. Now I need to find another excuse to get people to buy it when it comes out as an ebook...

Brand new manyeyedhydra story - Cέrμləan Circles

Here's that new story I was talking about. Cέrμləa teaches Phil some summoning techniques. What can go wrong...

Enjoy!

Cέrμləan Circles

“Summoning circles are all about shape and form,” the girl with spiky blue hair said as she drew in chalk on the bare stone floor.

The girl, who wore a cornflower-blue dress and looked like a rebellious twelve-year-old, was being watched by a young man. He was wearing plain black robes that were threadbare in some places, singed in others. At one time they might have looked sinister and occult, but now they just looked worn. Both were standing in an open space in a large library. Countless shelves overflowing with antiquated tomes ran off into the distance. While it might have looked like a young girl doodling on the floor under the watchful gaze of an elder brother, the truth was a little more complicated.

The young man’s name was Phil Rowling. He was a warlock—okay, student warlock, previously of Wargsnouts College for Warlocks. This library wasn’t located on Earth but in hell, or some plane thereof. The young girl’s name was Cέrμləa and she was neither a girl nor young. Girls didn’t have blue horns curling out of their spiky blue hair, they didn’t have long slender tails terminating in a devil’s point, and they definitely didn’t have large bat wings emerging from their backs. Cέrμləa even had a pair of tiny vestigial wings on her head, located behind her pointed ears.

Cέrμləa was a succubus and while she looked and acted—most of the time—like a young girl, Phil knew she was far older. So old he couldn’t even begin to guess. He saw it sometimes—a flash of ancient knowledge in her ruby-red eyes.

“It’s about bending and distorting the latent fibres of the present plane of reality, and rearranging them into a new alignment that touches on and intersects with an adjacent and contemporaneous plane,” Cέrμləa said.

She continued to draw, with a precision and skill that belied her youthful appearance, a complex series of circles, lines and symbols.

“The methodology of circle summoning is simple and precise. The inner circle opens a connection to the plane or planes of choice. This allows the summoned entity to enter this plane of existence.

“The outer circle forms a barrier to prevent physical matter and other energies from seeping through into this plane. Its purpose is to keep the summoned entity within the circle for long enough to allow the summoner to set out the terms and conditions of the contract.

“As long as the summoner is proficient in transcribing the design, circle summoning is one of the safest techniques of daemon summoning.”

The girl stopped and looked down at her work with a satisfied smile.

“See,” she said. “It’s simple mathematics and topology.”

Phil looked at the baroque, highly complex tangle of lines and curves Cέrμləa had drawn on the floor. If this was simple, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see complex.

Cέrμləa put a finger on her lips. “That one might be a little too complex for your current level.”

Next to her on the stone floor was a child’s bag shaped like a cartoon whale and a mop and bucket. She used the mop to wipe away the chalk design on the floor.

“Now you try,” she said, tossing the piece of chalk to Phil. “We’ll start with something simple. How about the same circle you used to summon Rosa and Verdé?”

Was that a good idea? It hadn’t exactly gone well last time. Rosa and Verdé, two other succubi, were the reason Phil was here. He and a fellow student had summoned them in a misguided attempt to setup a night of sexy fun. Jake, the other student, was dead and Phil was alive but in hell, where things were…complicated.

Cέrμləa was waiting. Phil stood there awkwardly. Surely she didn’t expect him to draw the circle from memory.

“Oh,” Cέrμləa said. “You didn’t have a chance to commit the design to memory.”

Phil shook his head.

Cέrμləa tutted. “A diligent circle summoner should spend weeks drawing the summoning circle over and over until the design is etched into his memory. Don’t tell me you took the book out of the library and just copied the design off the page.”

Phil glanced guiltily at the floor.

Cέrμləa shook her head. “Humans. Always rushing. Hmm… Mr Grinstead.”

She tapped her tail on the floor. A complex circle appeared on the stone floor as if drawn in ghostly white light. In the centre of the circle the floor vanished to be replaced by a pool of abyssal black shadow. A strange creature rose up out of the darkness. It looked like a blue-skinned ape with a toothy crocodile’s snout for a head. It was no more than a foot in height. Two delicate pairs of wings, flimsy like a fly’s, fluttered behind its back. They didn’t look sturdy enough to support the imp’s squat form, but that didn’t stop it rising up until it was hovering level with Cέrμləa’s head.

“What was the name of the book?” Cέrμləa asked Phil.

“The Daemonica Malefique,” Phil replied.

“Go and fetch the Daemonica Malefique from the library at Wargsnouts and bring it back here,” Cέrμləa said to the hovering imp.

The familiar gave no outward sign of acknowledgement. It turned and—wings whirring behind it—flew in a slow straight line. A portal opened up in the air before it like a circular window. The imp buzzed through and was gone from the library, the portal closing up behind it.

“It won’t be able to get it,” Phil said. “The Wargsnouts library is protected by all kinds of—”

The strange circular porthole opened up again and the imp came back through. It was clutching a heavy tome in its claws that was almost as big as it was. Phil recognised the book as the Daemonica Malefique.

“Very good, Mr Grinstead.”

Cέrμləa took the big book from the imp and patted it on the head. There was just the barest flicker of a smile at the corner of the squat thing’s toothy mouth, and then it was gone—sinking back into the pool of shadow on the floor.

Cέrμləa placed the book on the floor and flicked through the yellowing pages until she found the one she was after.

“There you go,” she said.

Phil made no move to start.

“Um. Won’t Verdé be angry if I yank her here from whatever she’s doing?”

The smooth flesh of Cέrμləa’s forehead creased up. She sighed as she planted her palm on her forehead.

“That’s not how it works,” she said. “It can, but the summoner needs to know the exact design for the individual daemon and most summoners don’t bother because the ritual won’t work if the target daemon is not available.

“The circle is used to open a connection. It can be to a specific region of hell and/or a specific type/race of daemon. The circle you used is to summon a standard succubus-type daemon from anywhere within the Lust Conjugation. Very general. Rosa and Verdé happened to be the first to answer the summoning.”

Oh, Phil thought. It kind of made sense. He studied the design on the open page of the book and began to copy it, in chalk, on the stone floor of the library.

“Don’t worry about imperfections in the floor,” Cέrμləa said as Phil struggled to continue a line over a crack between two stone slabs. “It’s the mental image of the circle that’s important. The chalk is only an aid to focus the mind. It’s the projection of the circle from the summoner’s mind that actually reshapes and bends reality.”

Phil was surprised to find Cέrμləa’s words made sense. As he drew the circle he realised he was no longer seeing the chalk lines but the mental image of the design he’d concentrated on and created in his mind. He finished and stepped back. He was sure he’d got it right this time. The circle felt clearer. Crisper.

Cέrμləa looked at his effort. “Oh dear. I don’t think that could contain even a feculoid imp.”

Phil deflated. He looked at the open page and then back at the circle. They looked the same. He was sure they were the same. Where had he gone wrong?

Cέrμləa looked at the circle and then the open page. She frowned. She crouched down and examined the book more closely. She blushed and put a hand over her mouth.

“Book’s wrong,” she turned to Phil and said with a smile. “Parts of the outer circle design have been omitted.”

Wrong? Phil thought. Great, so he’d never had a chance of getting the ritual right in the first place.

“I’ll fix it.”

Cέrμləa went into her bag and pulled out a black pen. She lay down on the floor next to the book and started to draw directly onto the yellowed page. It looked wrong to Phil, as if a child was being allowed to doodle in a priceless first edition of Dickens. When she finished Phil was surprised to see her modifications matched the style perfectly. He couldn’t see where the original lines ended and Cέrμləa’s alterations began.

“Try that,” she said.

Phil shrugged. He mopped away the chalk of the old circle and started afresh.

“How about now?” he asked after finishing.

Cέrμləa tilted her head from one side to the other as she examined his work. She looked at Phil, her red eyes shining. “Why don’t we try it out and see?”

Phil would have preferred a simple, ‘Yes, that looks fine.’

Cέrμləa put a finger to her lips and was thoughtful.

“Hmm. The problem with most succubi is they’re cunning, duplicitous creatures. Even if there were flaws in the circle or ritual a succubus might pretend to follow the summoner’s wishes if it amused them or suited their purposes. We need a daemon that’s more straightforward. Then we’ll know right away if the summoning was performed correctly.”

Preferably something that couldn’t do a lot of damage if the circle was wrong, Phil thought.

“A violence daemon would do the trick. Maybe a taurenox. They’re big, strong, and as dumb as a rock.”

Big, strong and violence daemon were words that didn’t appeal to Phil.

Cέrμləa tsked.

“No. No good at all. Then there wouldn’t be any sex. We won’t be able to hold the reader’s interest if there isn’t any sex.”

“Reader?”

“Oh, nothing,” Cέrμləa said.

Deep in thought, she flicked through the pages until she found something she liked and her face lit up.

“A ctenophox,” she said. “Yes, that would be perfect. Schemes and subtlety don’t interest them at all.”

She picked up the book and passed it to Phil.

“It’s a standard summoning incantation, similar to the one you used to summon Verdé.”

Phil looked at the page as Cέrμləa took the chalk and made some alterations to the inner circle pattern. The symbols and words were familiar to him as the same ones he’d been forced to learn by rote back at Wargsnouts College.

“What’s a ctenophox?” he asked.

“A primal spirit of lust from the Benth’Id depths,” Cέrμləa replied. “They’re quite simple, although they do have a reasonable amount of raw power.”

“Are they dangerous?”

“Only if you make a mistake with the summoning.”

But weren’t they summoning the ctenophox to test if he had made a mistake with the summoning, Phil thought. Again he wondered why they couldn’t just summon an imp or something equally puny.

“Now for a little something to attract a ctenophox to the circle,” Cέrμləa said.

She went back to her childish, whale-shaped bag and took out a small glass beaker covered in cellophane. A thick, creamy-white liquid formed a small layer at the bottom of the glass. Phil didn’t need to ask to know the liquid was semen, probably his. Cέrμləa took off the cellophane covering and left the beaker in the centre of the chalk circle.

“What about the other ingredients?” Phil asked.

“What other ingredients?” Cέrμləa asked.

“You know, mice, other things.”

Cέrμləa looked at Phil. “What would a lust daemon want with a mouse?”

“Um, the blood…” Phil suggested without feeling entirely confident.

Cέrμləa shook her head. “You humans have some very odd notions about magic,” she said. “Now recite the summoning incantation,” she ordered.

Phil read the words out loud from the page. As always, his tongue struggled to wrap around the alien syllables at first, but then there was always a point when the trickle of words tipped over into a flood. A kind of eldritch gravity took over, as if the incantation had reached a critical mass and would not be stopped. Instead of him saying the words, it was like the words took over, controlling his tongue to shape them as they tumbled forth from his mouth in a stream that only ended when his finger brushed up against the last rune.

“Good. Good,” Cέrμləa said as the echo of alien utterances faded away. “Most humans make the mistake of trying to force the words to match the sounds they’re familiar with. It’s better to let the words take their own form.”

A pinkish, bluish cloud started to condense around the beaker in the centre of the circle. It expanded and puffed outwards, forming a dense fog constrained within the lines of chalk.

“Ah, here she comes,” Cέrμləa said.

A female form rose up out of the swirling mist. She was blue-skinned, naked and moved with a sinuous grace that was both alien and entrancing. She stared at him with golden-yellow eyes and swayed like a belly dancer, or snake. Phil found it difficult to look away. He thought he could hear music playing far away—a strange ululation that reminded him of psychedelic science fiction TV shows from the sixties.

He couldn’t see the lower part of her body. The thick billowing clouds of mist formed an impenetrable veil that obscured everything beneath the little dimple of her navel. Waves of mist rolled up against the outer chalk circle and Phil heard crackling sounds, like sparks of electricity earthing in a puddle.

“Mystic presence contained,” Cέrμləa said. “Visual entrancements, eighty percent negated. Aural entrancements, ninety percent negated. Olfactory entrancements, ninety-five percent negated.”

The smoke teased Phil like a veil. He leaned forward as he tried to peer into the clouds and see her lower half. Nothing. He couldn’t see anything of her legs, ass or sex. He jumped back as an electric-blue tentacle emerged from the thick mist and slithered across the stone floor. It reached the outer chalk circle and stopped as if it had come up against an invisible barrier. Another whip-thin appendage emerged and tested the other side of the circle.

What was hidden within the clouds?

“Physical presence contained,” Cέrμləa said. “Now quick, she’s strong, recite the conditions and terms of your contract before she breaks out. Remember, visualise exactly what you desire as you recite the words.”

Phil knew exactly what he desired. He wanted the daemon to not kill him, suck out his soul, scramble his brains, or do anything else bad to him. He also wanted her to leave when dismissed and not hunt him down afterwards once she was no longer bound by the terms of the contract. Oh, and not to kidnap and take him with her when she returned to her home plane. That was worth adding considering what had happened the last time he’d attempted to summon a daemon. He recited his conditions in the formal language of daemon contracting. He’d learnt some of it at Wargsnouts and Cέrμləa had helped him with the rest during their study sessions.

More blue feelers slithered around the white lines of the outer circle, looking for any weakness. As the last syllable of Phil’s binding incantation faded away the tendrils retreated back into the opaque clouds. The ctenophox slowed down her swaying motions and looked at Phil with a smile on her sensual indigo lips.

“What do you desire of me?” she asked.

Her voice had a strange echo, almost as if Phil was hearing them both normally and directly in his thoughts at the same time.

“Did it work?” he turned and asked Cέrμləa.

“Let’s find out,” she said.

Mischief glinted in her red eyes. She kicked the mop bucket over and a tide of soapy water rushed across the stone floor, obliterating the front of the chalk circle. The ctenophox’s smile widened.

Oh sh—

It was like a wall had been blown away. The sounds came first—a haunting, eerie melody that spiralled through his eardrums and resonated pleasantly within the folds of his brain. The ululating music surrounded him. He felt it vibrating in his teeth and then down through his bones. The hairs rose up on the back of his neck. He felt strange. Airy. Antsy.

The bluish-pink mist rolled out across the floor. It pushed out before it a strange aroma that tickled Phil’s nostrils. The exotic perfume added to his growing sense of dislocation.

Smiling seductively, the ctenophox put her hands together above her head and started to sway like a sensual belly dancer. Phil couldn’t look away. His field of vision was constrained to a narrow rectangle that started with the ctenophox’s radiant yellow eyes and went down to the gleaming blue curves of her voluptuous breasts.

A slender blue tentacle rolled out of the billowing fog and coiled around Phil’s right ankle, jolting him from his trance. Alarmed, he looked over to Cέrμləa for guidance as another feeler slithered across the floor and up his other leg.

Cέrμləa put a hand to her mouth. “Oops. Adult stuff. I’m not allowed to see this. See you later.” She gave him a friendly wave before skipping off in the direction of the large bookcases at the back of the room.

Wait, Phil thought. What do I do n—

The tentacles around his ankles tugged and Phil fell backwards. He landed on his back and the wind was knocked out of his body. Dazed and still partially entranced by both the beguiling melodies and the ctenophox’s hypnotic swaying, Phil didn’t put up much resistance as the slender cords around his ankles pulled taut and started to drag him into the circle and thick clouds roiling within.

The fog was thick enough to have physical substance. He felt it against his feet and ankles, but rather than feeling cold and clammy it felt like warm honey condensing on his exposed skin. He felt like he was stepping into a pleasant scented bath. Within the mist he saw the hazy shapes of thicker appendages. Blind mouths opened in the ends and puffed out more scented blue and pink clouds. The mist billowed over Phil’s legs in a wave of miniature kisses.

The ctenophox was right above him. More and more feelers unfurled out of the churning fog. They slithered beneath his robe and peeled it off him to leave him completely naked and exposed. Other tentacles coiled around his arms and lifted him up off the floor. Phil drowned in the golden pools of her eyes and offered no resistance.

“This floor is too hard,” the ctenophox said, her voice again echoing directly within the folds of Phil’s mind. “I’ll make it more comfortable.”

Two blue appendages, as thick across as Phil’s thighs, nudged out of the base of the cloud. They opened out like rubber tubes and started spewing more thick mist across the floor. Only this wasn’t mist, not like the moist smoke swirling around Phil’s lower legs. It was thicker, solid, more like some kind of translucent jelly. The orifices swayed back and forth, squirting out a thick cushion beneath Phil. It even felt soft like a cushion. The tendrils holding him relaxed and Phil sank back not onto the stone floor but instead into a mass of warm jelly that felt like a moist rubbery beanbag.

Puffed out by indistinct maws, the billowing clouds continued to expand and Phil was enveloped in a comfortable, relaxed weakness. Slender tentacles, strong like cord, wound around his wrists and ankles and pulled them apart until Phil was spread-eagled before the ctenophox. Her upper body hovered out of the mist before him, full breasts hanging like swollen, ripe, exotic fruit. Phil was so deep into the opaque mist he could no longer see anything past his abdomen. He shivered as an unseen something brushed up against his exposed penis.

No, this had gone too far, Phil thought, his mind stumbling free of the fog encroaching on his thoughts. Oh fuck. She’d dragged him right into the circle and was almost on top of him. There must have been a mistake. He had to use the emergency dismissal before the daemoness did…whatever she intended to do to him.

“Ex—”

That was as far as Phil got before a thick blue tentacle emerged from the cloud and the fleshy tip covered Phil’s mouth and nose like a mask. The ctenophox shook her head and tutted. He saw her dark blue hair was really a mass of long squirming tendrils.

“You can’t send me away before experiencing the pleasures of my body.”

The pleasures offered by most lust daemons invariably ended up being fatal. Phil struggled against the tentacles binding his limbs. He tried thrashing his head in an attempt to dislodge the appendage attached to his face.

The appendage was hollow. Phil’s eyes widened as the tentacle swelled up. He couldn’t shake it off before a volume of scented gas was forced up his nostrils and into his lungs. Phil’s struggles grew more laboured as the drugged air permeated through his body and dragged his limbs down with languid weight. The fog was within him now. It twined through his mind and obscured his thoughts.

“Breathe and be relaxed,” the girl with blue skin and brilliant shining eyes ordered. Phil heard her voice both through his ears and directly in his mind.

She pumped more blissful relaxant into his body and Phil’s breathing slowed down and fell into the same rhythm as the pulses travelling up the tube. The tenseness left his body. He sank into the gel cushions beneath him with the ctenophox on top of him.

“All those instructions on what I mustn’t do, and yet you never specified exactly what you wished of me,” the ctenophox said. “Shall I assume you’d like me to take the initiative?”

Tentacles dripping with lubricant slithered over Phil’s body in lewd caresses. The ctenophox positioned herself above him. Her full lips formed an o as she let out a breathy sigh. She pushed the shiny round swells of her tits together.

“Mmm, I like taking the initiative,” the ctenophox said. “I like having the freedom to be…creative.”

Her smothering appendage continued to pump more drugged air into Phil’s lungs. The swirling clouds thickened around him. Warm droplets condensed against his exposed skin. He hoped he hadn’t left anything out of the binding clauses. If he had, well there wasn’t much he could do about it now.

The ctenophox sighed like a porn star in heat. Phil couldn’t see what was happening within the opaque clouds. Beneath the veil of mist countless tentacles tickled and caressed him. Soft suction cups toyed with his nipples. They felt like warm lips. Mysterious appendages with a variety of tips—brushes, suckers, sponges—teased his body with exotic sensation. Phil trembled as a soft rubber appendage wound around his penis and gently tugged him to full hardness.

“Don’t think about what I’m doing,” the ctenophox said, “just relax and enjoy the sensation.”

Her upper body settled in his lap. Phil felt some kind of orifice—squishy, gelatinous—wriggle against the fleshy helmet of his erection. She lowered her body and Phil felt his dick slide up into a tight passage with smooth, elastic walls.

“Ooh yes. In you go.”

The girl pouted glistening lips. Her face reminded Phil of the slutty girls staring out of the covers of top shelf magazines. Faces that returned later to visit him in sticky, sweaty dreams. Those girls didn’t have blue skin, but it didn’t matter; the ctenophox was sexy regardless, a real life exotic sci-fi babe.

Phil’s manhood was inside something. At first it didn’t feel too pleasant—clammy, slimy, more like some kind of squishy jelly. Then it started to warm up and press tightly all around his cock until it formed a snug sheath. The walls were formed of thick pads of soft jelly. They moulded perfectly around his member and started to excite him with little throbbing squeezes. Phil’s cock twitched with the same rhythm as blood poured into his growing erection. Now it was pleasant. Really pleasant.

The ctenophox paused and placed a finger thoughtfully on her lips. Within the clouds, the unseen orifice continued to tease Phil’s hard-on with rippling suction.

“As much as I find humans enjoyable, their final release is never as substantial as I’d like. I have some techniques that will help you with this. You don’t object if I use them, do you?”

Phil didn’t, or rather he couldn’t. His mouth was still covered by her gas-pumping appendage. The ctenophox’s lips turned up in a smile.

“No? Oh good,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’ll find this to be very pleasant.”

A slender feeler, slick with lubricant, wormed up into Phil’s ass. It tickled around until it found his prostate and then—

Ooooh!

Phil wasn’t sure what she was doing, couldn’t tell if she was sucking on the gland or squirting something into it, only that an incredibly pleasant sensation was spreading through his groin. She shifted position and something moist and soft enfolded his testicles and began to suck on them.

She removed the mask-like appendage from Phil’s face. She didn’t need it any more. He was under her control now. The air around Phil was already so saturated with her perfumed clouds every breath he took was filled with her fog. Thicker tentacles with rows of what felt like moist lips on the underside wrapped around Phil. He shivered as they left lines of wet kisses along his exposed flesh.

Sighing with pleasure, the ctenophox rocked up and down on him. Gelatinous suction gripped Phil’s twitching erection. Her slender feeler continued to tickle away in his ass. His loins felt weird—hot, fervid. His testicles felt bloated and were growing more and more swollen, encouraged to expand by the soft suckers wrapped around them. Hidden within the mist, the ctenophox was doing something to his genitals, something that made him feel like his semen was building up as though he’d been denied release for months.

“Mmm, I like my men to fill me with a nice big load,” the ctenophox said.

She closed her eyes and squeezed her big blue breasts together. The thick tentacles lined with hot kissing lips squeezed Phil’s body. Her weight settled deeper into his lap, pushing his erection up deeper inside her until the tip pressed up against a soft gelatinous cushion that enfolded his glans and sucked on him. Waves of gentle squeezes ran up his shaft. They spread outwards throughout his body until it felt like everything within him was being focused down to his groin and then up his shaft and into the head of his throbbing cock.

“Oh yes, you’re going to give me a big load.”

She gave him another squeeze, more powerful this time. Soft gelatinous flesh pressed all around and smothered his over-sensitised manhood. Too much. Phil groaned as a wave washed through him, stimulating the muscles of his legs and buttocks, forcing his hips upwards and driving his cock deeper into something soft and smothering that engulfed him and began to suck. His swollen balls contracted and it felt like a dam had been breached as his semen surged up his shaft and erupted outwards in glorious release. He twitched and trembled helplessly beneath the ctenophox as she encouraged more and more semen from him with her pulsating jelly sheath. More, more, a constant eruption into her quivering centre as thick, billowing clouds rolled over him and the ctenophox moaned and writhed on top of him.

Not quite constant, thankfully. Just as Phil was starting to worry he was going to keep ejaculating until he deflated to an empty husk, the ctenophox’s jelly sheath opened up and released him. Completely spent, Phil sank, exhausted, into the soft gel underneath him.

The ctenophox sighed. “So nice. I wish I could suck it all out of you, but then you’d be dried up and dead and I can’t do that as it would violate the terms of our agreement.”

She lay down until her curvaceous upper body rested against Phil’s. Her moist lips pressed against his in a gentle kiss. A probing feeler found Phil’s left ear and slithered inside. A spark flashed inside his brain. He saw the circle he’d chalked on the ground superimposed on his vision as though it had been etched into his eyeballs in sparkling sapphire. As he watched, the design changed. Complex lines and spirals were added to the central circle as if drawn by an invisible hand.

“My name is Ctenylla,” the ctenophox whispered in his ear. “You can summon me directly next time.”

Phil blinked and the sapphire lines faded from his vision. But not from his thoughts. The design was still there, marked indelibly into his memory and available for retrieval any time he desired.

Ctenylla got up off him. She put a hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. The kiss became a dense pink and blue cloud that expanded to fill Phil’s vision and obscure Ctenylla’s body. When the cloud dissipated Ctenylla was gone, returned to whichever plane she’d been summoned from. The jelly cushions underneath him liquefied and evaporated until Phil was lying naked on the stone floor in the centre of a smudged chalk circle.

He lay there for a while, waiting for his breath to come back. He was still alive? He supposed that meant, technically, the summoning had been a success.

* * * *

Humming a tune to herself, Cέrμləa skipped between the shelves. She ran her finger along the spines of various ancient books, looking for one in particular. Smiling, she identified the tome and pulled it out from the shelf. It was bound in leather or some other less wholesome material. The title, Daemonica Malefique, looked like it had been scorched into the cover with a brand. It looked like an exact duplicate of the book lying open next to Phil’s prone body.

Cέrμləa tapped her tail on the floor and Mr Grinstead rose up out of the centre of a glowing arcane circle.

“You can put this one back now.” She passed the book to the imp. Bowing, it grasped the book to its chest and sank back down into the floor.

Cέrμləa looked over to where Phil was lying on the stone floor. The rise and fall of his chest indicated he was still alive. She smiled and fires sparkled in the depths of her ruby-red eyes.