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...
Showing posts with label succubus summoning 201. Show all posts
Showing posts with label succubus summoning 201. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
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.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Updates and a (Maybe) Story Bonanza for Literotica's Upcoming Halloween Story Contest
By maybe, I think three stories... Maybe. Maybe more. Whenever I try to be a bit more definite about these things something goes horribly wrong and scuppers all the plans.
Anyway. Literotica's annual Halloween contest is on the way. The details of which can be found here.
As an aside, if you're a budding writer that likes succubi/monster girls and is not afraid to get your hands dirty with a little bit of explicit smut, contests like this are a great way to cut your teeth and find readers.
As for me, currently some of my projects have stalled and trying to bludgeon through them isn't doing my productivity any good. I think I'll use this contest as an excuse to let #ChaosWriting out of the cage and see how many short stories I can blast out during the three weeks of the contest. With a bit of luck that might clear my head and get the production line moving again.
The first story is already submitted. You should see that go up tomorrow when the contest officially kicks off. After that I'm not sure what we'll get or how many. That's the beauty of #ChaosWriting.
I'm not trying to win this time. There's been a trend in recent competitions for some entrants to go long, and I mean 90K-word-novel long. With the way Literotica's scoring system works, it's pretty much impossible for a good 5-10K short story to place over a good 90K+ novel, so I'm not going to worry about it. This is more an exercise in clearing out some old ideas and trying to get back in touch with what made me so prolific in my early days writing for Literotica (being more carefree and less trying to brute-force stories at a guess).
There's another two stories where I'm nearly done with the first draft, so I reckon we might see three new stories in October and hopefully more if the juices really get flowing.
So where does this leave the other stuff? Here are a few updates.
Sandwiched by Series
Sticking to a hard monthly schedule isn't working here. I like the covers and concept, so it will continue, but with a more flexible release schedule. i.e. When the story is done and I'm happy it doesn't feel rushed. The next one is "Sandwiched by Scyllas" and I'm about 60-odd% done with it.
Okasare Kenny Series
The original idea was for this to be the monthly serial for 2016. Then I tried to use it as crazy live-novel-writing challenge, which was a cool idea, but a bad thing to launch into with other stories (in particular Succubus Summoning) still incomplete. The Sandwiched by series was a trial to see if I could keep to a regular monthly schedule for a series with more continuity. I'm not confident I can do that at the moment, so I won't officially (re)launch Okasare Kenny until I have six months or so worth of chapters in the can and can be confident it won't stall like Succubus Summoning 201 did.
A Night With Ceptophthorié
Alas poor game-writing experiment. This one got shoved to the back burner when I fell behind on first A Succubus for Saint Patrick's Day, and then various other things. It's something I want to do, but I have to get my other writing stuff sorted first.
Jackson in HRPG-World
This is tailor-made for putting up on the blog in small chapters. I need to get other things done first (Succubus Summoning 201!) before I can get back to this. And I will get back to it because I know how the story pans out and I'm very excited to see readers' reactions to it. ;)
Succubus Summoning 201
The big one. The one I really should get done considering Succubus Summoning 101 outsells all my other books put together. Why aren't I on it? It didn't get done in November/December last year basically. That was when I went through a rather drastic life change that involved losing my job and changing countries. It got put to one side while I got back on my feet (and aside from not being as productive with my writing as I'd like, I am thankfully back on my feet) and now I'm having a little trouble picking up the threads again. I should be able fix this once I get around to the editing process in assembling the previous chapters into a coherent ebook. I'll be on that as soon as I've had my fun with Halloween. The aim is still to get the ebook finished before the end of the year and out as soon as there's an opening in eXcessica's publication schedule. The final two chapters (of 201) will be posted as soon as they're written though. I'm not going to let readers wait for them longer than they have to.
Some updates anyway. It's been a weird 12 months. Hopefully the next 12 months won't feature quite as many missteps, fumbles and failed experiments.
In the meantime I hope you enjoy the free Halloween stories (however many of them there end up being).
Anyway. Literotica's annual Halloween contest is on the way. The details of which can be found here.
As an aside, if you're a budding writer that likes succubi/monster girls and is not afraid to get your hands dirty with a little bit of explicit smut, contests like this are a great way to cut your teeth and find readers.
As for me, currently some of my projects have stalled and trying to bludgeon through them isn't doing my productivity any good. I think I'll use this contest as an excuse to let #ChaosWriting out of the cage and see how many short stories I can blast out during the three weeks of the contest. With a bit of luck that might clear my head and get the production line moving again.
The first story is already submitted. You should see that go up tomorrow when the contest officially kicks off. After that I'm not sure what we'll get or how many. That's the beauty of #ChaosWriting.
I'm not trying to win this time. There's been a trend in recent competitions for some entrants to go long, and I mean 90K-word-novel long. With the way Literotica's scoring system works, it's pretty much impossible for a good 5-10K short story to place over a good 90K+ novel, so I'm not going to worry about it. This is more an exercise in clearing out some old ideas and trying to get back in touch with what made me so prolific in my early days writing for Literotica (being more carefree and less trying to brute-force stories at a guess).
There's another two stories where I'm nearly done with the first draft, so I reckon we might see three new stories in October and hopefully more if the juices really get flowing.
So where does this leave the other stuff? Here are a few updates.
Sandwiched by Series
Sticking to a hard monthly schedule isn't working here. I like the covers and concept, so it will continue, but with a more flexible release schedule. i.e. When the story is done and I'm happy it doesn't feel rushed. The next one is "Sandwiched by Scyllas" and I'm about 60-odd% done with it.
Okasare Kenny Series
The original idea was for this to be the monthly serial for 2016. Then I tried to use it as crazy live-novel-writing challenge, which was a cool idea, but a bad thing to launch into with other stories (in particular Succubus Summoning) still incomplete. The Sandwiched by series was a trial to see if I could keep to a regular monthly schedule for a series with more continuity. I'm not confident I can do that at the moment, so I won't officially (re)launch Okasare Kenny until I have six months or so worth of chapters in the can and can be confident it won't stall like Succubus Summoning 201 did.
A Night With Ceptophthorié
Alas poor game-writing experiment. This one got shoved to the back burner when I fell behind on first A Succubus for Saint Patrick's Day, and then various other things. It's something I want to do, but I have to get my other writing stuff sorted first.
Jackson in HRPG-World
This is tailor-made for putting up on the blog in small chapters. I need to get other things done first (Succubus Summoning 201!) before I can get back to this. And I will get back to it because I know how the story pans out and I'm very excited to see readers' reactions to it. ;)
Succubus Summoning 201
The big one. The one I really should get done considering Succubus Summoning 101 outsells all my other books put together. Why aren't I on it? It didn't get done in November/December last year basically. That was when I went through a rather drastic life change that involved losing my job and changing countries. It got put to one side while I got back on my feet (and aside from not being as productive with my writing as I'd like, I am thankfully back on my feet) and now I'm having a little trouble picking up the threads again. I should be able fix this once I get around to the editing process in assembling the previous chapters into a coherent ebook. I'll be on that as soon as I've had my fun with Halloween. The aim is still to get the ebook finished before the end of the year and out as soon as there's an opening in eXcessica's publication schedule. The final two chapters (of 201) will be posted as soon as they're written though. I'm not going to let readers wait for them longer than they have to.
Some updates anyway. It's been a weird 12 months. Hopefully the next 12 months won't feature quite as many missteps, fumbles and failed experiments.
In the meantime I hope you enjoy the free Halloween stories (however many of them there end up being).
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Update on Okasare Kenny
It's going on hold. Sorry about that.
This is only temporary. It's being returned to its original place in the queue. After seeing how well the Let's Play of Monmusu Quest: Paradox did for the blog numbers I got a little over-excited and jumped the queue on something I already had a very good plan for. I'm going back to that original plan. Next year I'm intending to put Okasare Kenny out as a monthly serial on Amazon (and others) spread over the year. First of all I need to instil confidence that I can keep to a monthly schedule. This is what the Sandwiched by series was intended to be (before I got sidetracked).
Currently I'm working on finishing up some projects that should have been completed in the first half of the year - the print version of A Succubus for Saint Patrick's Day and other tales, the next instalments of Sandwiched by ("Sandwiched by Scyllas", "Sandwiched by Succubi"), and a long-awaited conclusion to the Succubus Summoning 201 arc. Once these are done I'll have a more cleanish slate and can get back to Okasare Kenny and a novel idea featuring Nicole I've been tinkering with.
Because of the change in plans I'll be pulling the Okasare Kenny chapters posted on Lit and StoriesOnline. The ones I posted here I'll leave here.
A live-written (sort of) novel posted daily on the blog in daily instalments is something I want to do at some point. I did enjoy the bits I did on Okasare Kenny before realising I was neglecting other projects that should have been finished off sooner.
As a writer, metaphorically showing your underpants in public is a little embarrassing. In future I'll try to rein in my excitement until a project is actually complete/near-complete. As per my usual penance for screwing up I'll raid the short story stockpile and dig up something juicy to post for your reading pleasure - look out for it Monday.
This is only temporary. It's being returned to its original place in the queue. After seeing how well the Let's Play of Monmusu Quest: Paradox did for the blog numbers I got a little over-excited and jumped the queue on something I already had a very good plan for. I'm going back to that original plan. Next year I'm intending to put Okasare Kenny out as a monthly serial on Amazon (and others) spread over the year. First of all I need to instil confidence that I can keep to a monthly schedule. This is what the Sandwiched by series was intended to be (before I got sidetracked).
Currently I'm working on finishing up some projects that should have been completed in the first half of the year - the print version of A Succubus for Saint Patrick's Day and other tales, the next instalments of Sandwiched by ("Sandwiched by Scyllas", "Sandwiched by Succubi"), and a long-awaited conclusion to the Succubus Summoning 201 arc. Once these are done I'll have a more cleanish slate and can get back to Okasare Kenny and a novel idea featuring Nicole I've been tinkering with.
Because of the change in plans I'll be pulling the Okasare Kenny chapters posted on Lit and StoriesOnline. The ones I posted here I'll leave here.
A live-written (sort of) novel posted daily on the blog in daily instalments is something I want to do at some point. I did enjoy the bits I did on Okasare Kenny before realising I was neglecting other projects that should have been finished off sooner.
As a writer, metaphorically showing your underpants in public is a little embarrassing. In future I'll try to rein in my excitement until a project is actually complete/near-complete. As per my usual penance for screwing up I'll raid the short story stockpile and dig up something juicy to post for your reading pleasure - look out for it Monday.
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Pauses
Some things going on as you might have noticed by the lack of recent updates.
I was going to post in more detail about the events at the end of last year affecting me more than I first thought, leading to some poor decision making, but that would just be a whole load of boring personal crap and I don't want this blog to degenerate into a personal whinefest. There are too many of those already on the internet. I deal in sexy. Whining about stuff is not sexy.
The upshot of it all is that in the first six months of attempting to be a professional (quasi)self-published author, I haven't been as professional as I would have liked. A Succubus for Saint Patrick's Day still doesn't have a print version. I still need to get a US ITIN. The Succubus Summoning 201 arc still isn't finished. The Sandwiched by series was supposed to be monthly and yet there's only been two releases in the past six months. These are things I need to fix.
The rest of the post was going to be about putting Okasare Kenny on hiatus for six months - basically going back to the original plan of releasing it as a serial on Amazon with 99c instalments. But that also struck me as unprofessional. Being premature (oo er, double entendre) with the original posting was probably a misstep, but once it's done I should continue lurching along down that path (plus it can always be packaged up that way with nice artwork and smoother editing later). I also hate the concept of starting a story in a free forum and then moving the ending behind a paywall. It's a dickish thing for a writer to do, even when we're trying to put bread on the table.
Unfortunately I'm cursed with an aspect of personality that loves to engage in self-sabotage. Some times it gets on top for a while and I'm stuck with being a useless cunt until I can beat that fucker back into the dank cage it belongs.
Give me a couple of days to get my head back in order and I'll get back to killing Kenny (over and over and over, hyuk hyuk).
I was going to post in more detail about the events at the end of last year affecting me more than I first thought, leading to some poor decision making, but that would just be a whole load of boring personal crap and I don't want this blog to degenerate into a personal whinefest. There are too many of those already on the internet. I deal in sexy. Whining about stuff is not sexy.
The upshot of it all is that in the first six months of attempting to be a professional (quasi)self-published author, I haven't been as professional as I would have liked. A Succubus for Saint Patrick's Day still doesn't have a print version. I still need to get a US ITIN. The Succubus Summoning 201 arc still isn't finished. The Sandwiched by series was supposed to be monthly and yet there's only been two releases in the past six months. These are things I need to fix.
The rest of the post was going to be about putting Okasare Kenny on hiatus for six months - basically going back to the original plan of releasing it as a serial on Amazon with 99c instalments. But that also struck me as unprofessional. Being premature (oo er, double entendre) with the original posting was probably a misstep, but once it's done I should continue lurching along down that path (plus it can always be packaged up that way with nice artwork and smoother editing later). I also hate the concept of starting a story in a free forum and then moving the ending behind a paywall. It's a dickish thing for a writer to do, even when we're trying to put bread on the table.
Unfortunately I'm cursed with an aspect of personality that loves to engage in self-sabotage. Some times it gets on top for a while and I'm stuck with being a useless cunt until I can beat that fucker back into the dank cage it belongs.
Give me a couple of days to get my head back in order and I'll get back to killing Kenny (over and over and over, hyuk hyuk).
Wednesday, February 04, 2015
Writing Update Feb 2015
Because I’m getting queries on when the next Succubus Summoning chapter will be going up (it’s delayed again, sorry).
The original plan was to finish the Succubus Summoning 201 arc along with some extras for the ebook version in November/December. This didn’t happen because of some substantial real life disruption. Now that window is temporarily closed as I’m in a deadline crunch to get the next collection, A Succubus for St Patrick’s Day, finished in time for, well, St Patrick’s Day. Once that’s done I’ll get back to Succubus Summoning and keep on it until the full 201 arc is finished. #ChaosWriting is temporarily suspended while I force myself to be disciplined for a change.
Here are some progress reports to give everyone an idea of what’s on the way in 2015.
Sandwiched By
Committing to this seemed a much saner idea when I didn’t know December and November were going to vanish in a black hole. Oh well, flying by the seat of my pants to maintain a monthly schedule is going to be fun. I’m halfway through “Sandwiched by Slime Girls”. The two girls in this one are proving to be very enthusiastic (a little too enthusiastic – they’re distracting me!), so it should be a fun read. I’m also halfway through another Sandwiched by story that features a character inspired by one of Monster Girl Quest’s weirder monster girls. It’s a bit voreish so I didn’t want to put it out too early in case I scared everyone away. March and April are likely to be Scylla and Succubi. We’ll see. This is my challenge to me to bring out the speedy pulp writer after all.
A Succubus for St Patrick’s Day and other tales
This was the collection I originally intended to put out last year, but decided to postpone rather than rush it out with sloppy editing. I wanted it done by the end of January but I suspect it will be mid-February as I still need to give three stories a thorough editing (plus the usual formatting and getting a cover together). Expect to see teasers and excerpts in a couple of week’s time. As with the last collection there will be six old stories, six brand new stories and one from an Excessica collection that might have been missed by a lot readers.
Succubus Summoning 201
Should have been finished in November if I hadn’t let such trifling concerns as losing my job and having to move country get to me. Bah! This is next in the queue after the editing on A Succubus for St Patrick’s Day is finished. There are two chapters to come and both will be smallish in comparison to the previous chapters. I’ll then do some chopping and changing to edit it into ebook form to go into the earliest available slot in Excessica’s release schedule.
With both of those projects out of the way I’ll be free to turn on #ChaosWriting again. I tend to be much more productive when dealing with fresh ideas and both of the previous projects dragged on far longer than I’d have liked. One of my aims this year is to really get my teeth into my ideas folder and get them written before they go stale.
A Night with Ceptophthorié
I definitely want to keep playing around with Twine and create some more interactive stories. I had to put this on hold when I realised I was running behind on the other things. When things get a little less hectic I’ll be running this alongside my more conventional writing projects.
Jackson in HRPG-World
This has been on hold for too long. I have some ideas of future games to lampoon, so expect Jackson’s (mis)adventures to start up again later in the year.
And then we get into freer territory. Other than the ton of short story outlines sitting in my ideas file I have these ideas for longer novellas and novels:
A novel featuring both Nicole and Madam Voluptula. Also ties in with another short story of mine. I’ve been wanting to write a novel-length work about Nicole for a while and I think the idea for this one will work. I’m pretty sure this will become my main focus once Succubus Summoning 201 is out of the way.
Okasare Kenny. A serial about a protagonist stuck in a Violated Hero-type game/world. Me trying to out-ick Violated Hero while still keeping it sexy.
A novella with Amanda. Originally it was a very strong short story idea that gave me an excuse to show off her dominatrix skills. I think there’s enough in the story for it to go longer.
Slutdroppin’. Four students play a practical joke on a drunk female student and end up in a weird dimension where something is tracking them. More of a horror story – for the people that prefer my nastier Bad Ends.
Porno Fighters from Planet Earth. Another lengthier piece I started a while back. Has a great manga-esque plot. Still not sure on the pacing. Might end up a trilogy of short novels.
A short novel about a soapland run by succubi. Been wanting to write this a while, but it involves some complex mythology/riddles alongside the usual sexy bits.
Succubus Summoning 301. Phil’s adventures aren’t done yet. 201 was supposed to be set more in Wargsnouts, but ended up drifting back to the succubi’s castle. 301 might be based more on Earth. I’m still thinking of what the overall plot arc will be.
The Nicole novel will likely be the first thing I tackle on the list (I’ve already written the first couple of chapters). After that I’ll probably reorder depending on levels of interest, so let me know what takes your fancy in the comments below.
The original plan was to finish the Succubus Summoning 201 arc along with some extras for the ebook version in November/December. This didn’t happen because of some substantial real life disruption. Now that window is temporarily closed as I’m in a deadline crunch to get the next collection, A Succubus for St Patrick’s Day, finished in time for, well, St Patrick’s Day. Once that’s done I’ll get back to Succubus Summoning and keep on it until the full 201 arc is finished. #ChaosWriting is temporarily suspended while I force myself to be disciplined for a change.
Here are some progress reports to give everyone an idea of what’s on the way in 2015.
Sandwiched By
Committing to this seemed a much saner idea when I didn’t know December and November were going to vanish in a black hole. Oh well, flying by the seat of my pants to maintain a monthly schedule is going to be fun. I’m halfway through “Sandwiched by Slime Girls”. The two girls in this one are proving to be very enthusiastic (a little too enthusiastic – they’re distracting me!), so it should be a fun read. I’m also halfway through another Sandwiched by story that features a character inspired by one of Monster Girl Quest’s weirder monster girls. It’s a bit voreish so I didn’t want to put it out too early in case I scared everyone away. March and April are likely to be Scylla and Succubi. We’ll see. This is my challenge to me to bring out the speedy pulp writer after all.
A Succubus for St Patrick’s Day and other tales
This was the collection I originally intended to put out last year, but decided to postpone rather than rush it out with sloppy editing. I wanted it done by the end of January but I suspect it will be mid-February as I still need to give three stories a thorough editing (plus the usual formatting and getting a cover together). Expect to see teasers and excerpts in a couple of week’s time. As with the last collection there will be six old stories, six brand new stories and one from an Excessica collection that might have been missed by a lot readers.
Succubus Summoning 201
Should have been finished in November if I hadn’t let such trifling concerns as losing my job and having to move country get to me. Bah! This is next in the queue after the editing on A Succubus for St Patrick’s Day is finished. There are two chapters to come and both will be smallish in comparison to the previous chapters. I’ll then do some chopping and changing to edit it into ebook form to go into the earliest available slot in Excessica’s release schedule.
With both of those projects out of the way I’ll be free to turn on #ChaosWriting again. I tend to be much more productive when dealing with fresh ideas and both of the previous projects dragged on far longer than I’d have liked. One of my aims this year is to really get my teeth into my ideas folder and get them written before they go stale.
A Night with Ceptophthorié
I definitely want to keep playing around with Twine and create some more interactive stories. I had to put this on hold when I realised I was running behind on the other things. When things get a little less hectic I’ll be running this alongside my more conventional writing projects.
Jackson in HRPG-World
This has been on hold for too long. I have some ideas of future games to lampoon, so expect Jackson’s (mis)adventures to start up again later in the year.
And then we get into freer territory. Other than the ton of short story outlines sitting in my ideas file I have these ideas for longer novellas and novels:
A novel featuring both Nicole and Madam Voluptula. Also ties in with another short story of mine. I’ve been wanting to write a novel-length work about Nicole for a while and I think the idea for this one will work. I’m pretty sure this will become my main focus once Succubus Summoning 201 is out of the way.
Okasare Kenny. A serial about a protagonist stuck in a Violated Hero-type game/world. Me trying to out-ick Violated Hero while still keeping it sexy.
A novella with Amanda. Originally it was a very strong short story idea that gave me an excuse to show off her dominatrix skills. I think there’s enough in the story for it to go longer.
Slutdroppin’. Four students play a practical joke on a drunk female student and end up in a weird dimension where something is tracking them. More of a horror story – for the people that prefer my nastier Bad Ends.
Porno Fighters from Planet Earth. Another lengthier piece I started a while back. Has a great manga-esque plot. Still not sure on the pacing. Might end up a trilogy of short novels.
A short novel about a soapland run by succubi. Been wanting to write this a while, but it involves some complex mythology/riddles alongside the usual sexy bits.
Succubus Summoning 301. Phil’s adventures aren’t done yet. 201 was supposed to be set more in Wargsnouts, but ended up drifting back to the succubi’s castle. 301 might be based more on Earth. I’m still thinking of what the overall plot arc will be.
The Nicole novel will likely be the first thing I tackle on the list (I’ve already written the first couple of chapters). After that I’ll probably reorder depending on levels of interest, so let me know what takes your fancy in the comments below.
Sunday, November 02, 2014
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 5)
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
“If it’s any consolation, your bringing them here did not change anything. This was always going to be their fate,” Nÿte said to Darvill.
Phil hadn’t visited this chamber before. Everything in the room was covered in glossy white latex. When he wasn’t looking at it directly, the latex seemed to shift and bulge as if something was trapped on the other side. It reminded him uncomfortably of the souls he’d seen trying to push out through Nurse Honey’s nurse outfit.
At least Darvill was still alive. That was a plus.
The other student nodded his head at Nÿte’s words. “Can someone show me the way back to Earth?” he asked.
“I’ll do it!” Cέrμləa said. She skipped forwards and took Darvill’s hand.
“I’m really sorry,” Phil said to Darvill as he walked past.
“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Darvill said. “The choices and decisions were theirs to make.”
He gave Phil a friendly fist bump on the shoulder.
“See you back at college.”
He left the room with Cέrμləa and the white iris door closed behind them.
“No fair,” Rosa said with an unhappy pout. “Why did I have to get the smart one? Now I’m all frustrated.”
“A promising prospect,” Nurse Honey said. Her horns had disappeared and her hair had returned to its usual blonde colour. “He might develop into a fine warlock.”
“Needs to lose some of that arrogance,” Nÿte said. “Today will have helped him.”
“He could have at least let me give him a blowjob,” Rosa complained.
“You look tired,” Verdé said to Phil.
“It’s been a long day,” Phil said.
Since waking up he’d seen one of Nÿte’s ghoulish collections; fought a spider daemon; ran around the castle in search of his fellow students; had sex with a succubus covered in the freshly-spilled blood of one of those students. Rest would be good. Therapy might also be needed.
Verdé went behind him and started to gently knead the meat of his shoulders. “You need a little pampering,” she said.
Her nose wrinkled.
“And a good clean up,” she added.
Rosa’s ears pricked up. “Giving our warlock a good pampering, I like that idea. Mmm, my pussy will give you a really nice pampering.”
She started to walk towards Phil . . .
. . . and was intercepted by Nÿte. The other succubus put an arm around her waist, squeezed her tight to her, and steered her away towards the exit.
“Mine was a little too young to fully appreciate the talents of a succubus,” Nÿte said to Rosa, “so I had some fun with our master instead. I think we should let him have a quiet night to recuperate.”
“But . . . but . . .” Rosa said to no avail as Nÿte guided her away.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Verdé said.
She took him down to the opulent bathing area, put him under a hot shower to sluice away the abattoir remnants of Joey Chalk, and then lightly sponged him all over until he felt fresh and clean. Well, clean at least.
“Did they have to die?” he asked Verdé as she walked him back to his room.
“You’ve all chosen a difficult path to walk,” she said. “Those that don’t possess the requisite strength and ability will not make it to the end. That’s the way it’s always been.”
That sounded cold to Phil, yet Verdé had said it as though it was perfectly natural. Maybe to daemons it was. Phil didn’t think he’d ever get used it and he doubted this would be the last occurrence.
Verdé blew him a tingling kiss and then glided away down the corridor. Phil entered his room. It was in darkness.
Strange. He normally pulled aside the black sheet he used to block out the bright pink sky from the window when he got up at whatever felt like morning.
It had been one of those days. He must have forgotten and there wasn’t any opportunity to do it later. He didn’t even bother to make any light. He took his stinky robes off and tossed them into the corner. Then he dived backwards onto his bed. This was one of those rare occasions when he was glad the bed was as ludicrously big and soft as it was.
He didn’t land on it. Instead he landed on some sticky filaments that were maybe suspended an inch or so above it.
. . . sticky filaments that felt suspiciously like a giant web.
. . . that looked like a giant web.
He heard giggling out in the darkness.
“Look at what’s fallen into my little web,” L’mactia said.
Hmm. I was going to torment everyone a little more and leave you all in suspense for another day, but Literotica have been fantastically efficient with their posting times again. The full chapter is now up and can be read here.
The next chapter (212) will be a little shorter. I'll see if I can get it out around the start of December.
Also, if you were a little disappointed that L'mactia's spidery friends didn't get a chance to show off their talents, never fear, I've written a little spin-off story where both of them get to have a little fun with a hapless human captive. That's part of something I'm planning for 2015.
If you've enjoyed this, please support me by picking up one of my books.
part 2
part 3
part 4
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 5)
“If it’s any consolation, your bringing them here did not change anything. This was always going to be their fate,” Nÿte said to Darvill.
Phil hadn’t visited this chamber before. Everything in the room was covered in glossy white latex. When he wasn’t looking at it directly, the latex seemed to shift and bulge as if something was trapped on the other side. It reminded him uncomfortably of the souls he’d seen trying to push out through Nurse Honey’s nurse outfit.
At least Darvill was still alive. That was a plus.
The other student nodded his head at Nÿte’s words. “Can someone show me the way back to Earth?” he asked.
“I’ll do it!” Cέrμləa said. She skipped forwards and took Darvill’s hand.
“I’m really sorry,” Phil said to Darvill as he walked past.
“There’s nothing to apologise for,” Darvill said. “The choices and decisions were theirs to make.”
He gave Phil a friendly fist bump on the shoulder.
“See you back at college.”
He left the room with Cέrμləa and the white iris door closed behind them.
“No fair,” Rosa said with an unhappy pout. “Why did I have to get the smart one? Now I’m all frustrated.”
“A promising prospect,” Nurse Honey said. Her horns had disappeared and her hair had returned to its usual blonde colour. “He might develop into a fine warlock.”
“Needs to lose some of that arrogance,” Nÿte said. “Today will have helped him.”
“He could have at least let me give him a blowjob,” Rosa complained.
“You look tired,” Verdé said to Phil.
“It’s been a long day,” Phil said.
Since waking up he’d seen one of Nÿte’s ghoulish collections; fought a spider daemon; ran around the castle in search of his fellow students; had sex with a succubus covered in the freshly-spilled blood of one of those students. Rest would be good. Therapy might also be needed.
Verdé went behind him and started to gently knead the meat of his shoulders. “You need a little pampering,” she said.
Her nose wrinkled.
“And a good clean up,” she added.
Rosa’s ears pricked up. “Giving our warlock a good pampering, I like that idea. Mmm, my pussy will give you a really nice pampering.”
She started to walk towards Phil . . .
. . . and was intercepted by Nÿte. The other succubus put an arm around her waist, squeezed her tight to her, and steered her away towards the exit.
“Mine was a little too young to fully appreciate the talents of a succubus,” Nÿte said to Rosa, “so I had some fun with our master instead. I think we should let him have a quiet night to recuperate.”
“But . . . but . . .” Rosa said to no avail as Nÿte guided her away.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Verdé said.
She took him down to the opulent bathing area, put him under a hot shower to sluice away the abattoir remnants of Joey Chalk, and then lightly sponged him all over until he felt fresh and clean. Well, clean at least.
“Did they have to die?” he asked Verdé as she walked him back to his room.
“You’ve all chosen a difficult path to walk,” she said. “Those that don’t possess the requisite strength and ability will not make it to the end. That’s the way it’s always been.”
That sounded cold to Phil, yet Verdé had said it as though it was perfectly natural. Maybe to daemons it was. Phil didn’t think he’d ever get used it and he doubted this would be the last occurrence.
Verdé blew him a tingling kiss and then glided away down the corridor. Phil entered his room. It was in darkness.
Strange. He normally pulled aside the black sheet he used to block out the bright pink sky from the window when he got up at whatever felt like morning.
It had been one of those days. He must have forgotten and there wasn’t any opportunity to do it later. He didn’t even bother to make any light. He took his stinky robes off and tossed them into the corner. Then he dived backwards onto his bed. This was one of those rare occasions when he was glad the bed was as ludicrously big and soft as it was.
He didn’t land on it. Instead he landed on some sticky filaments that were maybe suspended an inch or so above it.
. . . sticky filaments that felt suspiciously like a giant web.
. . . that looked like a giant web.
He heard giggling out in the darkness.
“Look at what’s fallen into my little web,” L’mactia said.
* * * *
Hmm. I was going to torment everyone a little more and leave you all in suspense for another day, but Literotica have been fantastically efficient with their posting times again. The full chapter is now up and can be read here.
The next chapter (212) will be a little shorter. I'll see if I can get it out around the start of December.
Also, if you were a little disappointed that L'mactia's spidery friends didn't get a chance to show off their talents, never fear, I've written a little spin-off story where both of them get to have a little fun with a hapless human captive. That's part of something I'm planning for 2015.
If you've enjoyed this, please support me by picking up one of my books.
Saturday, November 01, 2014
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 4)
part 1
part 2
part 3
Darvill reached the top of the stairs and entered a long passageway. A line of stone arches resembling windows ran along each wall. The arches didn’t look out onto anything; the view was obscured by flaps of glossy white material—some kind of rubber. The latex sheets swayed and bulged and initially Darvill thought this must be a corridor exposed to the outside elements, maybe a bridge between two towers. Then he realised the motions were co-ordinated—like lungs drawing breath. As he walked down the corridor he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Ripples ran through the glossy white material. Ripples that resolved into faces and hands. They melted away the moment he turned to look at them directly.
Up ahead the corridor terminated in a strange obstruction. It resembled a giant sphincter or iris, but was made out of the same glossy white rubber rather than any kind of biological material.
Darvill checked his portable soul divination apparatus. It told him Gary was on the other side of that door, if it was a door.
He approached and the door opened up like an iris. Revealed on the other side was a large white chamber. It contained beds, couches and other furniture whose purpose was primarily pleasure. Everything was covered in a layer of glossy white latex. He noticed there was no visible gap between furniture and the floor, as though all the beds and loungers he saw had been extruded from the floor beneath.
At the end of the room a succubus in white sat in a massive, overstuffed chair that resembled a throne in both dimensions and placement. He recognised her. It was the same succubus Gary had been infatuated with. She’d changed. Her long silky hair was pure white and a complex series of horns—like those of an elk—were threaded through it. She no longer resembled a trashy porn star in a fetish nurse outfit. She looked regal . . . powerful.
Darvill saw no one else in the room. He checked his portable soul divination apparatus. It pointed directly at the daemon sitting on the throne.
He wished it hadn’t.
“I’ve come for Gary Dever,” Darvill said. “Return him to me.”
The succubus in white ignored his demand. She looked at the artefact in his hand. “Is that an Aqui-animus divination apparatus?”
Darvill nodded.
“I’m sorry,” the succubus said. “Those have never worked particularly well around me.”
Darvill drew his knife and prepared to slice into his arms to activate the most powerful offensive magic he knew. “I don’t want a fight,” he said. “Give me Dever and we’ll both leave without any trouble.”
“No, you don’t want a fight,” the succubus said.
She looked at Darvill standing defiantly before her.
“You need to see something,” she said.
She sighed and pushed her breasts and belly outwards. Her latex outfit—if it was an outfit, Darvill suspected it was her skin—rippled as a commotion took place underneath. Tiny hands followed by equally small faces pushed out against the malleable rubber. They pushed out and then subsided, as if the succubus was cycling through them in search of one particular soul. She found it and Darvill recognised Gary’s face. Gary pushed out as if trying to force his way through a thick sheet of elastic. His arms and most of his upper body emerged from the succubus’s stomach as if an unnatural fission was taking place.
Darvill’s excitement faded as he saw more of Gary’s body. The shape of the head was wrong—deformed, partially melted. The same was true of his hands. The fingers weren’t right—they looked like softened wax. Gary’s face broke the surface and Darvill saw there was nothing there. The eyes were blank, dead. There was no light there. No life. No soul. Gary didn’t recognise him. The malformed face gibbered nonsensically.
Water welled up in Darvill’s eyes.
The daemon saw he understood. She flexed her amorphous body and Gary was pulled back down into her as if caught in a quagmire. The rippling commotions faded away until there was only the succubus, looking radiantly perfect as she sat on her throne.
“You friend is gone,” she said. “Even if you had the necessary power to force me to return him to you, all I can give you are his remnants—little more than carrion that would fall apart in your hands.”
“Then I came here—risked the lives and souls of my friends—for nothing.”
“Not for nothing,” the succubus said. “You have grown considerably as a warlock. Calli-Scitu-Oc is very pleased with your progress.” She smiled at the poly-Oc perched on Darvill’s shoulder.
Darvill’s poly-Oc had a name? Darvill thought that was a weakness lesser warlocks indulged in—giving their daemon familiars pet names. Darvill hadn’t. It was a poly-Oc, nothing more than a common familiar.
Then he looked across to the poly-Oc sitting on his shoulder, saw the way it looked back at him, and understood.
“It appears I’ve been operating under an erroneous set of assumptions,” he said.
Most of his knowledge, nearly everything he knew, had been obtained from reading books. He saw now that most of it was wrong. A single glance from Calli-Scitu-Oc told him that.
The succubus smiled at him. He could see why they were regarded as creatures of near-irresistible temptation. That temptation emanated from her like a burning spotlight. He was relieved she had chosen not to turn it on him.
“What about the others?”
“They did not possess sufficient strength of character.”
The voice came from behind him. Darvill turned and saw a small group of succubi had entered the room. He recognised Rosa and Verdé, and the succubus that looked like a stern dominatrix. There was also a succubus he hadn’t seen before—a little girl with horns and spiky blue hair. Despite looking like a child, she had the oldest eyes Darvill had ever seen, older even than both the succubus in black and the succubus in white. In the middle of them, still dressed in his ratty old robes, was Phil Rowling.
to be continued . . .
part 2
part 3
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 4)
Darvill reached the top of the stairs and entered a long passageway. A line of stone arches resembling windows ran along each wall. The arches didn’t look out onto anything; the view was obscured by flaps of glossy white material—some kind of rubber. The latex sheets swayed and bulged and initially Darvill thought this must be a corridor exposed to the outside elements, maybe a bridge between two towers. Then he realised the motions were co-ordinated—like lungs drawing breath. As he walked down the corridor he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Ripples ran through the glossy white material. Ripples that resolved into faces and hands. They melted away the moment he turned to look at them directly.
Up ahead the corridor terminated in a strange obstruction. It resembled a giant sphincter or iris, but was made out of the same glossy white rubber rather than any kind of biological material.
Darvill checked his portable soul divination apparatus. It told him Gary was on the other side of that door, if it was a door.
He approached and the door opened up like an iris. Revealed on the other side was a large white chamber. It contained beds, couches and other furniture whose purpose was primarily pleasure. Everything was covered in a layer of glossy white latex. He noticed there was no visible gap between furniture and the floor, as though all the beds and loungers he saw had been extruded from the floor beneath.
At the end of the room a succubus in white sat in a massive, overstuffed chair that resembled a throne in both dimensions and placement. He recognised her. It was the same succubus Gary had been infatuated with. She’d changed. Her long silky hair was pure white and a complex series of horns—like those of an elk—were threaded through it. She no longer resembled a trashy porn star in a fetish nurse outfit. She looked regal . . . powerful.
Darvill saw no one else in the room. He checked his portable soul divination apparatus. It pointed directly at the daemon sitting on the throne.
He wished it hadn’t.
“I’ve come for Gary Dever,” Darvill said. “Return him to me.”
The succubus in white ignored his demand. She looked at the artefact in his hand. “Is that an Aqui-animus divination apparatus?”
Darvill nodded.
“I’m sorry,” the succubus said. “Those have never worked particularly well around me.”
Darvill drew his knife and prepared to slice into his arms to activate the most powerful offensive magic he knew. “I don’t want a fight,” he said. “Give me Dever and we’ll both leave without any trouble.”
“No, you don’t want a fight,” the succubus said.
She looked at Darvill standing defiantly before her.
“You need to see something,” she said.
She sighed and pushed her breasts and belly outwards. Her latex outfit—if it was an outfit, Darvill suspected it was her skin—rippled as a commotion took place underneath. Tiny hands followed by equally small faces pushed out against the malleable rubber. They pushed out and then subsided, as if the succubus was cycling through them in search of one particular soul. She found it and Darvill recognised Gary’s face. Gary pushed out as if trying to force his way through a thick sheet of elastic. His arms and most of his upper body emerged from the succubus’s stomach as if an unnatural fission was taking place.
Darvill’s excitement faded as he saw more of Gary’s body. The shape of the head was wrong—deformed, partially melted. The same was true of his hands. The fingers weren’t right—they looked like softened wax. Gary’s face broke the surface and Darvill saw there was nothing there. The eyes were blank, dead. There was no light there. No life. No soul. Gary didn’t recognise him. The malformed face gibbered nonsensically.
Water welled up in Darvill’s eyes.
The daemon saw he understood. She flexed her amorphous body and Gary was pulled back down into her as if caught in a quagmire. The rippling commotions faded away until there was only the succubus, looking radiantly perfect as she sat on her throne.
“You friend is gone,” she said. “Even if you had the necessary power to force me to return him to you, all I can give you are his remnants—little more than carrion that would fall apart in your hands.”
“Then I came here—risked the lives and souls of my friends—for nothing.”
“Not for nothing,” the succubus said. “You have grown considerably as a warlock. Calli-Scitu-Oc is very pleased with your progress.” She smiled at the poly-Oc perched on Darvill’s shoulder.
Darvill’s poly-Oc had a name? Darvill thought that was a weakness lesser warlocks indulged in—giving their daemon familiars pet names. Darvill hadn’t. It was a poly-Oc, nothing more than a common familiar.
Then he looked across to the poly-Oc sitting on his shoulder, saw the way it looked back at him, and understood.
“It appears I’ve been operating under an erroneous set of assumptions,” he said.
Most of his knowledge, nearly everything he knew, had been obtained from reading books. He saw now that most of it was wrong. A single glance from Calli-Scitu-Oc told him that.
The succubus smiled at him. He could see why they were regarded as creatures of near-irresistible temptation. That temptation emanated from her like a burning spotlight. He was relieved she had chosen not to turn it on him.
“What about the others?”
“They did not possess sufficient strength of character.”
The voice came from behind him. Darvill turned and saw a small group of succubi had entered the room. He recognised Rosa and Verdé, and the succubus that looked like a stern dominatrix. There was also a succubus he hadn’t seen before—a little girl with horns and spiky blue hair. Despite looking like a child, she had the oldest eyes Darvill had ever seen, older even than both the succubus in black and the succubus in white. In the middle of them, still dressed in his ratty old robes, was Phil Rowling.
to be continued . . .
Friday, October 31, 2014
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 3)
part 1
part 2
Phil heard singing—a child’s nursery rhyme that featured lots of ra ra ras—as they entered Cέrμləa’s part of the castle. They found her in a playroom tucked away from the main corridor. The walls were brightly painted and were covered in murals of playful cartoon figures. At first glance it looked cheery. At second glance Phil realised something was off. When he looked more closely he realised the cartoon characters were devouring each other.
Cέrμləa sat cross-legged on the floor. Her arms were up in the air and she swayed her upper body as if dancing to the song she was singing. Sitting across from her was a small cone of brown flesh with a large mouth as its only discernible feature. The fleshy tip bobbed back and forth as if it was dancing along with Cέrμləa.
“Oh hello,” Cέrμləa said, noticing Phil. “Mr G dropped by to play with me.”
“Mr G?”
Phil was confused. He’d met Mr G. He was a daemon that looked like a French waiter and lived in a weird dimension full of giant worms.
“Isn’t that a minor nebrit?”
It looked very similar to the minor nebrit that was always perched on Herbie Higgins’ broad shoulder.
“All daemons from the Dominion of Gluttony are Mr G,” Nÿte explained. “They’re all maws leading to the Grand Belly.”
The minor nebrit had no recognisable features other than a big mouth filled with oversized teeth. Despite this, Phil could have sworn the thing was smiling at him in recognition. The teeth gnashed together and it made odd warbling sounds while spraying slobber.
“Mr G says hi,” Cέrμləa said.
“Hi,” Phil said. “I don’t suppose you can help me out. I’m looking for a human warlock. He carries another one of you on his shoulder.”
Cέrμləa put a finger to her lips and her forehead creased up in concentration. “I think I did see a warlock wandering around here earlier. A big fellow. Smelt a little funny.”
“Yes, that sounds like Herbie. Do you know where he went?”
“Hmm, let me think.”
She let out a loud belch. She put a hand to her mouth and flushed in embarrassment.
“Pardon me,” she said.
The cone of flesh belched as well. The noise was deeper and far louder than something its size should be capable of making.
“And pardon Mr G,” Cέrμləa said.
She put her finger on her lips and once again her forehead was creased in concentration. She shook her head.
“No, sorry,” she said.
She gave an apologetic shrug.
The cone of flesh shrugged as well. It was not an easy gesture to pull off without arms and shoulders, but the minor nebrit managed it.
Cέrμləa went back to her strange version of Pat-a-cake with Mr G.
“He’s gone,” Verdé whispered in his ear.
Phil was already reaching the same conclusion. The minor nebrit looked remarkably similar to Herbie’s daemon. So similar, in fact, they were probably one and the same daemon.
Phil looked at the twisted cartoons on the wall and decided he was probably better off not knowing what had happened to Herbie Higgins.
“Cέrμləa?” Verdé interrupted her game. “Are there any other students from Master’s college still present in the castle?”
“Alive ones,” Nÿte clarified.
Cέrμləa stopped her game. “Bye bye, Mr G.” She gave the pile of flesh a little wave.
Then, right before Phil’s astonished gaze, the minor nebrit started to eat itself. The jaws worked up and down and it curled up in a ball that grew smaller and smaller as it ate more of itself, until it simply popped out of existence.
Cέrμləa stood up and skipped over to them. She paused and her eyes became unfocused as if she was focusing on images only she could see.
“Yes, one,” she said. “But he’s about to face Mamǝḵā Bēyˁṯān.”
to be continued . . .
part 2
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 3)
Phil heard singing—a child’s nursery rhyme that featured lots of ra ra ras—as they entered Cέrμləa’s part of the castle. They found her in a playroom tucked away from the main corridor. The walls were brightly painted and were covered in murals of playful cartoon figures. At first glance it looked cheery. At second glance Phil realised something was off. When he looked more closely he realised the cartoon characters were devouring each other.
Cέrμləa sat cross-legged on the floor. Her arms were up in the air and she swayed her upper body as if dancing to the song she was singing. Sitting across from her was a small cone of brown flesh with a large mouth as its only discernible feature. The fleshy tip bobbed back and forth as if it was dancing along with Cέrμləa.
“Oh hello,” Cέrμləa said, noticing Phil. “Mr G dropped by to play with me.”
“Mr G?”
Phil was confused. He’d met Mr G. He was a daemon that looked like a French waiter and lived in a weird dimension full of giant worms.
“Isn’t that a minor nebrit?”
It looked very similar to the minor nebrit that was always perched on Herbie Higgins’ broad shoulder.
“All daemons from the Dominion of Gluttony are Mr G,” Nÿte explained. “They’re all maws leading to the Grand Belly.”
The minor nebrit had no recognisable features other than a big mouth filled with oversized teeth. Despite this, Phil could have sworn the thing was smiling at him in recognition. The teeth gnashed together and it made odd warbling sounds while spraying slobber.
“Mr G says hi,” Cέrμləa said.
“Hi,” Phil said. “I don’t suppose you can help me out. I’m looking for a human warlock. He carries another one of you on his shoulder.”
Cέrμləa put a finger to her lips and her forehead creased up in concentration. “I think I did see a warlock wandering around here earlier. A big fellow. Smelt a little funny.”
“Yes, that sounds like Herbie. Do you know where he went?”
“Hmm, let me think.”
She let out a loud belch. She put a hand to her mouth and flushed in embarrassment.
“Pardon me,” she said.
The cone of flesh belched as well. The noise was deeper and far louder than something its size should be capable of making.
“And pardon Mr G,” Cέrμləa said.
She put her finger on her lips and once again her forehead was creased in concentration. She shook her head.
“No, sorry,” she said.
She gave an apologetic shrug.
The cone of flesh shrugged as well. It was not an easy gesture to pull off without arms and shoulders, but the minor nebrit managed it.
Cέrμləa went back to her strange version of Pat-a-cake with Mr G.
“He’s gone,” Verdé whispered in his ear.
Phil was already reaching the same conclusion. The minor nebrit looked remarkably similar to Herbie’s daemon. So similar, in fact, they were probably one and the same daemon.
Phil looked at the twisted cartoons on the wall and decided he was probably better off not knowing what had happened to Herbie Higgins.
“Cέrμləa?” Verdé interrupted her game. “Are there any other students from Master’s college still present in the castle?”
“Alive ones,” Nÿte clarified.
Cέrμləa stopped her game. “Bye bye, Mr G.” She gave the pile of flesh a little wave.
Then, right before Phil’s astonished gaze, the minor nebrit started to eat itself. The jaws worked up and down and it curled up in a ball that grew smaller and smaller as it ate more of itself, until it simply popped out of existence.
Cέrμləa stood up and skipped over to them. She paused and her eyes became unfocused as if she was focusing on images only she could see.
“Yes, one,” she said. “But he’s about to face Mamǝḵā Bēyˁṯān.”
to be continued . . .
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 2)
part 1
The succubus before him was blazing with power. Flames flickered all over her body. They looked impressive, but were merely parlour tricks compared to the power Darvill sensed emanating from her. It felt like a tangible force.
Darvill wanted it.
Forget the sex. He wanted the knowledge—the power—she could teach him.
And for a moment, a long one, he was tempted.
Then he noticed the poly-Oc daemon sitting on his shoulder had gone very quiet. Normally it was constantly shifting around as it tried to look at everything. Now it was still . . . expectant.
And then he understood.
Calmly, Darvill carved the Exhalzangz’gn Flambastinaa sigil into his palm. Red blood welled up out of the cuts. Darvill knew the flames Rosa was playing with were sentient and came from the Elemental Plane of Consumas Infernum. He placed his bloody palm flat on the ground and banished them as he would any other intruding daemon. The burning torches died down and flickered out. The same happened to the flames dancing all over the succubus’s body. His banishment would keep them gone for at least an hour.
“Thanks for your offer,” he said, “but I must regretfully decline. I’m not advanced enough to be able to assimilate the knowledge and power you wish to gift me. It would destroy me.”
He ran an affectionate hand over the eye stalks of the poly-Oc sitting on his shoulder.
“My poly-Oc here is enough. It might take me a little longer, but I’ll learn what I need from my own studies. I can be patient.”
“Very well,” Rosa said. She didn’t seem happy about it, but she moved out of his path.
“Now tell me where you’re holding my friend,” Darvill ordered.
“Through there, up the stairs and straight down the corridor,” she said, pointing to the door in the right wall behind her couch. “You won’t like what you find.”
He gave the succubus a wide berth as he walked to the exit. She took a little half step towards him as he went by.
“Are you sure you don’t want a quick blowjob?” she asked.
There was an awkward pause.
“Um, no thanks,” Darvill said. He left the room.
After he left, Rosa cursed loudly and creatively. She summoned up a fireball and set the bed on fire.
“Why did I have to get the smart one,” she moaned. “I really wanted a fuck.”
to be continued . . .
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 2)
The succubus before him was blazing with power. Flames flickered all over her body. They looked impressive, but were merely parlour tricks compared to the power Darvill sensed emanating from her. It felt like a tangible force.
Darvill wanted it.
Forget the sex. He wanted the knowledge—the power—she could teach him.
And for a moment, a long one, he was tempted.
Then he noticed the poly-Oc daemon sitting on his shoulder had gone very quiet. Normally it was constantly shifting around as it tried to look at everything. Now it was still . . . expectant.
And then he understood.
Calmly, Darvill carved the Exhalzangz’gn Flambastinaa sigil into his palm. Red blood welled up out of the cuts. Darvill knew the flames Rosa was playing with were sentient and came from the Elemental Plane of Consumas Infernum. He placed his bloody palm flat on the ground and banished them as he would any other intruding daemon. The burning torches died down and flickered out. The same happened to the flames dancing all over the succubus’s body. His banishment would keep them gone for at least an hour.
“Thanks for your offer,” he said, “but I must regretfully decline. I’m not advanced enough to be able to assimilate the knowledge and power you wish to gift me. It would destroy me.”
He ran an affectionate hand over the eye stalks of the poly-Oc sitting on his shoulder.
“My poly-Oc here is enough. It might take me a little longer, but I’ll learn what I need from my own studies. I can be patient.”
“Very well,” Rosa said. She didn’t seem happy about it, but she moved out of his path.
“Now tell me where you’re holding my friend,” Darvill ordered.
“Through there, up the stairs and straight down the corridor,” she said, pointing to the door in the right wall behind her couch. “You won’t like what you find.”
He gave the succubus a wide berth as he walked to the exit. She took a little half step towards him as he went by.
“Are you sure you don’t want a quick blowjob?” she asked.
There was an awkward pause.
“Um, no thanks,” Darvill said. He left the room.
After he left, Rosa cursed loudly and creatively. She summoned up a fireball and set the bed on fire.
“Why did I have to get the smart one,” she moaned. “I really wanted a fuck.”
to be continued . . .
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 1)
I'm nearly done editing the next chapter of Succubus Summoning (211). As it breaks down into a number of sub-chapters like 209, I thought I'd torment everyone and post it piece-by-piece until the final chapter is up on Literotica.
Verdé was waiting for Phil and Nÿte as they reached the top of the steps. The succubus sat in an armchair as if posing for a seedy fashion photographer. Her diaphanous green robes were arranged artfully around her.
“I see you’ve taken care of one of the intruders,” she said, noticing the blood smeared all over Phil.
Phil’s expression was downcast. He felt as terrible as he looked.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Phil said. “We were trying to rescue him.”
Verdé arched a finely pencilled eyebrow. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
“They’re his fellow students from that ridiculous college,” Nÿte said. “He seems to think they’re his friends.”
Verdé put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t know.”
Phil grimaced. “I take it that means the one in the forest is beyond rescue.”
Verdé nodded her head sadly. “He threw a fireball at me, so I led him through a field of puff boobs. He fell on one.”
Phil guessed that meant ‘beyond rescue’. Souls didn’t escape once Verdé’s plants caught them.
“What about yours?” Verdé asked. “I’m guessing from the blood you failed to rescue them.”
“He slapped me,” Nÿte said.
Verdé raise both eyebrows and her eyes widened. “That was . . . foolish,” she said as if shocked anyone would even consider carrying out such an action.
“He realised that. At the end.”
Verdé got up out of her chair. She looked to be favouring her left side. Nÿte stared at her with piercing black eyes.
“You seem to be healing slower than normal,” she stated.
“My energy levels are a little low,” Verdé said. “I’ll find a nice young man to . . .” she glanced at Phil. “I’ll meditate to recover them later.”
“Come to my room after,” Nÿte said. “We have things to discuss.”
Verdé seemed reluctant to meet Nÿte’s abyssal-eyed gaze.
What was that about? Phil thought.
“What about the other two students?” he asked.
Nÿte turned to him. “They’ll be okay . . . so long as they don’t do anything foolish.”
to be continued (tomorrow, likely) . . .
Succubus Summoning 211 (part 1)
Verdé was waiting for Phil and Nÿte as they reached the top of the steps. The succubus sat in an armchair as if posing for a seedy fashion photographer. Her diaphanous green robes were arranged artfully around her.
“I see you’ve taken care of one of the intruders,” she said, noticing the blood smeared all over Phil.
Phil’s expression was downcast. He felt as terrible as he looked.
“That wasn’t the plan,” Phil said. “We were trying to rescue him.”
Verdé arched a finely pencilled eyebrow. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
“They’re his fellow students from that ridiculous college,” Nÿte said. “He seems to think they’re his friends.”
Verdé put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t know.”
Phil grimaced. “I take it that means the one in the forest is beyond rescue.”
Verdé nodded her head sadly. “He threw a fireball at me, so I led him through a field of puff boobs. He fell on one.”
Phil guessed that meant ‘beyond rescue’. Souls didn’t escape once Verdé’s plants caught them.
“What about yours?” Verdé asked. “I’m guessing from the blood you failed to rescue them.”
“He slapped me,” Nÿte said.
Verdé raise both eyebrows and her eyes widened. “That was . . . foolish,” she said as if shocked anyone would even consider carrying out such an action.
“He realised that. At the end.”
Verdé got up out of her chair. She looked to be favouring her left side. Nÿte stared at her with piercing black eyes.
“You seem to be healing slower than normal,” she stated.
“My energy levels are a little low,” Verdé said. “I’ll find a nice young man to . . .” she glanced at Phil. “I’ll meditate to recover them later.”
“Come to my room after,” Nÿte said. “We have things to discuss.”
Verdé seemed reluctant to meet Nÿte’s abyssal-eyed gaze.
What was that about? Phil thought.
“What about the other two students?” he asked.
Nÿte turned to him. “They’ll be okay . . . so long as they don’t do anything foolish.”
to be continued (tomorrow, likely) . . .
Friday, September 19, 2014
Succubus Summoning 210 is up to read at Literotica
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Succubus Summoning 209 (part 7)
And the last part (sort of)
He lowered his burning sword. “This was never a fair fight,” he called up to the succubi in the stands.
He recognised the collar as the one Brennan had made, supposedly to keep daemons under control, although it had failed to protect Brennan from Nÿte. It was much more effective on L’mactia. Her face contorted in agony as the collar crackled and scorched her. Segmented legs twitched spasmodically as magical sparks fizzed through her.
“It could never be a fair fight,” Nÿte said. “L’mactia has killed many experienced warlocks. You’re just a novice. Without the collar you’d already be dead.”
Phil knew that. He realised now why L’mactia had focused on defence. The collar had prevented her from mounting any attacks. It had never been a fight. The succubi had set it up to look like one, but in reality it had more in common with the slaughter of a muzzled and hobbled beast.
“What now?” Phil asked.
“That’s up to you,” Nÿte said. “Her life is in your hands. You can slay her in revenge. Or spare her and let her go. What do your teachings tell you?”
Phil remembered The Scrote’s lessons. A warlock should always be ruthless, he’d said. Kill a defeated foe rather than giving them a chance to come back stronger.
The theory was easier than the reality.
L’mactia was sprawled before him. Her head was bowed. “I won’t beg,” she said.
He couldn’t do this. In the heat of battle, to defend himself, yes. But not this. Not the cold-blooded execution of a defeated and helpless opponent.
“Where’s your anger?” Nÿte said. “She tried to give you a slow and lingering death and nearly killed you. Don’t you want revenge?”
Phil looked at the defeated spider daemon. One quick blow to the neck. It would be fast.
What revenge was this anyway? The person who’d wanted him dead was Emma Brennan and he couldn’t kill her because someone else had already killed her. L’mactia was a tool. Raging at her was as pointless as raging at a gun.
He thought it but recognised it for the feeble dissembling it was. He couldn’t do this. Not in cold blood.
His flaming sword flickered out of existence. The flames surrounding him died away.
“Nope. Can’t do it. Not murdering a helpless individual.”
He walked away. What a shit-poor excuse of a warlock he was.
L’mactia looked up in surprise when the killing blow failed to arrive. She struggled free of the tangling vines, but rather than charge Phil she ran away and skittered up one of the arena walls. It was Nÿte she ran to. And not to attack. She prostrated herself before the succubus in black. Then she got up and they shared a passionate kiss. Afterwards she sat next to Nÿte and rested her head in the succubus’s lap. To Phil it looked like she was trying very hard not to cry.
Nÿte ran her hand through the spider daemon’s black hair. She took the collar off and placed it around her own pale neck. She smiled down at Phil and gave him a little nod.
This left Phil thoroughly confused. Had he been supposed to kill L’mactia? Or not?
The portcullis rose behind him and he hurried out of the arena before the succubi decided to give him an even worse daemon to fight. He went back to the changing room even though he had nothing to change or change back into. His robe had burnt away when he’d set himself and L’mactia’s web on fire.
He sat on one of the stone benches with his head between his knees. He had to get away from here. And Wargsnouts. He wasn’t a warlock and would never be one.
Rosa walked in with Carny. “Not one of yours then,” she said to Carny. “Are you disappointed?”
“He never was,” Carny replied. “You wouldn’t have set such a hard challenge if you’d thought otherwise.”
He walked over to Phil and offered a good-natured fist bump.
“Fine showing there, dude,” he said as Phil tapped his knuckles.
“It was all fake,” Phil replied morosely. “She couldn’t fight back.”
“Well, yeah,” Carny said with a laugh. “Human versus daemon normally only ever has one outcome. That’s why you guys summon us to fight for you.”
Phil felt soft and weak. He couldn’t even kill the spider daemon that had tried to kill him.
“Did I do the right thing?” he asked.
The rage daemon shrugged. “Hard to say with these things. The consequences of mercy are difficult to predict. Today’s beaten foe might become tomorrow’s ally. Or the indignity of the defeat might linger and fester away until they become an implacable nemesis that cares only for revenge. There are no right choices. Either outcome is possible. Only time will tell.”
Phil shuddered at the thought of an arachne like L’mactia becoming his nemesis.
“I think you’ll be fine,” Carny said. “I doubt she’ll bear a grudge any more than she’d have shed a tear over your death. Her kind are known for their detachment.”
Carny was hunkered down as he stared into Phil’s glum face. He frowned. He put his hands on either side of Phil’s head and peered more intently.
“Oh,” he said. “Verdé you silly girl,” he murmured, more to himself. His face brightened and his usual easygoing smile returned. “Not your fault,” he said to Phil. “It was her choice to make. Maybe it was the right one.”
Phil wondered where Verdé was. Cέrμləa and Nurse Honey had also entered the room. Verdé wasn’t with them. He asked the succubi where she was.
“Intruders,” Cέrμləa said with exaggerated seriousness.
Intruders? Did that mean they were under attack?
“Who?” he asked.
“Some students from your college found the portal,” Rosa said. “It’s okay. There are safeguards. Any unwelcome guests are separated and redirected to random locations within the castle grounds.”
“That was my addition,” Cέrμləa said, beaming with pride.
“One landed in the outer forest,” Rosa added. “Verdé flew off to find them.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Phil said. “That place is dangerous. They’ll need a helping . . .”
He saw the expressions on the faces of the other succubi.
“She’s not gone to help him, has she?” he said.
“Well, they are intruders,” Rosa said.
Phil grimaced. “They’re fellow students. Can we at least find out why they’re here first?”
Rosa shared a glance with Carny. He was smiling.
“It’s unusual, but I suppose we could do that,” Rosa said.
“I’ll look for Verdé,” Nurse Honey offered. “She likes to take her time with her prey. There’s a good chance I can get there in time.”
“Where are the others?” Phil asked.
“I can do a divination to find them,” Cέrμləa said.
They rushed from the room, nearly bowling Nÿte over in the process.
“We’ve got to go rescue some novice warlocks,” Cέrμləa explained excitedly.
Jack Stone hated the outdoors. He hated the sun. He hated mud. He hated the smell. He hated the noise. He hated the trees. As he trudged along an overgrown path he hated every sliver of misfortune that had brought him to this hateful place.
He walked into a clearing and saw a sexy chick waiting for him. She was hawt. Long silky green hair billowed around a beautiful face with full sensual lips. Her billowing green robes left little to the imagination and her sexy figure matched anything between the pages of the porn stash he kept under his bed. She looked like a beautiful elf princess . . . with a really dirty mind.
Stone did not hate that.
Behind her a weird plant peeled open and revealed a soft white inner layer. It looked like a giant king-sized bed with a luxurious, super-soft mattress. The top leaves were translucent and curled over to provide shade.
“You look hot and bothered,” the girl said. “Why don’t you rest here for a while?”
She patted the white surface as if it was the bed it resembled.
“With me,” she added. Her green eyes glittered with the promise of sex.
That sounded like a really good idea. It was fucking hot. She was hot. He was sick of walking. It would be good to lie down for a while, especially with a chick with a bodacious body like that.
Who had horns.
Stone’s brow wrinkled. She had horns, wings and a tail.
Succubus!
Fuck, she must be trying to glamour him or some other mesmeric shit like that. Luckily it hadn’t taken hold.
“Flambasglob!”
Flames sprang to life in his right hand and he tossed a fireball at the lust daemon. Her seductive smile vanished and she yowled in pain as the ball of fire burst against her side.
Start of a kill streak, yeah baby.
Not quite, although he’d clipped her pretty good. She held her side and grimaced as she got back to her feet. Damn, he thought he’d put her down for good. Now he’d have to hit her with something else.
Or maybe not.
The succubus gave him a fearful glance and then dashed off between the trees.
to be continued . . .
And you don't actually have to wait for this cliffhanger as the whole chapter has gone live on Literotica right here.
Succubus Summoning 210 should be out next month and I'm hoping to get the full Succubus Summoning 201 book out before the end of the year. If you liked what you read, maybe I can interest you in some other work. ;)
Tomorrow I'll start the Violated Hero 5 playthrough.
* * * *
He lowered his burning sword. “This was never a fair fight,” he called up to the succubi in the stands.
He recognised the collar as the one Brennan had made, supposedly to keep daemons under control, although it had failed to protect Brennan from Nÿte. It was much more effective on L’mactia. Her face contorted in agony as the collar crackled and scorched her. Segmented legs twitched spasmodically as magical sparks fizzed through her.
“It could never be a fair fight,” Nÿte said. “L’mactia has killed many experienced warlocks. You’re just a novice. Without the collar you’d already be dead.”
Phil knew that. He realised now why L’mactia had focused on defence. The collar had prevented her from mounting any attacks. It had never been a fight. The succubi had set it up to look like one, but in reality it had more in common with the slaughter of a muzzled and hobbled beast.
“What now?” Phil asked.
“That’s up to you,” Nÿte said. “Her life is in your hands. You can slay her in revenge. Or spare her and let her go. What do your teachings tell you?”
Phil remembered The Scrote’s lessons. A warlock should always be ruthless, he’d said. Kill a defeated foe rather than giving them a chance to come back stronger.
The theory was easier than the reality.
L’mactia was sprawled before him. Her head was bowed. “I won’t beg,” she said.
He couldn’t do this. In the heat of battle, to defend himself, yes. But not this. Not the cold-blooded execution of a defeated and helpless opponent.
“Where’s your anger?” Nÿte said. “She tried to give you a slow and lingering death and nearly killed you. Don’t you want revenge?”
Phil looked at the defeated spider daemon. One quick blow to the neck. It would be fast.
What revenge was this anyway? The person who’d wanted him dead was Emma Brennan and he couldn’t kill her because someone else had already killed her. L’mactia was a tool. Raging at her was as pointless as raging at a gun.
He thought it but recognised it for the feeble dissembling it was. He couldn’t do this. Not in cold blood.
His flaming sword flickered out of existence. The flames surrounding him died away.
“Nope. Can’t do it. Not murdering a helpless individual.”
He walked away. What a shit-poor excuse of a warlock he was.
L’mactia looked up in surprise when the killing blow failed to arrive. She struggled free of the tangling vines, but rather than charge Phil she ran away and skittered up one of the arena walls. It was Nÿte she ran to. And not to attack. She prostrated herself before the succubus in black. Then she got up and they shared a passionate kiss. Afterwards she sat next to Nÿte and rested her head in the succubus’s lap. To Phil it looked like she was trying very hard not to cry.
Nÿte ran her hand through the spider daemon’s black hair. She took the collar off and placed it around her own pale neck. She smiled down at Phil and gave him a little nod.
This left Phil thoroughly confused. Had he been supposed to kill L’mactia? Or not?
The portcullis rose behind him and he hurried out of the arena before the succubi decided to give him an even worse daemon to fight. He went back to the changing room even though he had nothing to change or change back into. His robe had burnt away when he’d set himself and L’mactia’s web on fire.
He sat on one of the stone benches with his head between his knees. He had to get away from here. And Wargsnouts. He wasn’t a warlock and would never be one.
Rosa walked in with Carny. “Not one of yours then,” she said to Carny. “Are you disappointed?”
“He never was,” Carny replied. “You wouldn’t have set such a hard challenge if you’d thought otherwise.”
He walked over to Phil and offered a good-natured fist bump.
“Fine showing there, dude,” he said as Phil tapped his knuckles.
“It was all fake,” Phil replied morosely. “She couldn’t fight back.”
“Well, yeah,” Carny said with a laugh. “Human versus daemon normally only ever has one outcome. That’s why you guys summon us to fight for you.”
Phil felt soft and weak. He couldn’t even kill the spider daemon that had tried to kill him.
“Did I do the right thing?” he asked.
The rage daemon shrugged. “Hard to say with these things. The consequences of mercy are difficult to predict. Today’s beaten foe might become tomorrow’s ally. Or the indignity of the defeat might linger and fester away until they become an implacable nemesis that cares only for revenge. There are no right choices. Either outcome is possible. Only time will tell.”
Phil shuddered at the thought of an arachne like L’mactia becoming his nemesis.
“I think you’ll be fine,” Carny said. “I doubt she’ll bear a grudge any more than she’d have shed a tear over your death. Her kind are known for their detachment.”
Carny was hunkered down as he stared into Phil’s glum face. He frowned. He put his hands on either side of Phil’s head and peered more intently.
“Oh,” he said. “Verdé you silly girl,” he murmured, more to himself. His face brightened and his usual easygoing smile returned. “Not your fault,” he said to Phil. “It was her choice to make. Maybe it was the right one.”
Phil wondered where Verdé was. Cέrμləa and Nurse Honey had also entered the room. Verdé wasn’t with them. He asked the succubi where she was.
“Intruders,” Cέrμləa said with exaggerated seriousness.
Intruders? Did that mean they were under attack?
“Who?” he asked.
“Some students from your college found the portal,” Rosa said. “It’s okay. There are safeguards. Any unwelcome guests are separated and redirected to random locations within the castle grounds.”
“That was my addition,” Cέrμləa said, beaming with pride.
“One landed in the outer forest,” Rosa added. “Verdé flew off to find them.”
“Oh, that’s good,” Phil said. “That place is dangerous. They’ll need a helping . . .”
He saw the expressions on the faces of the other succubi.
“She’s not gone to help him, has she?” he said.
“Well, they are intruders,” Rosa said.
Phil grimaced. “They’re fellow students. Can we at least find out why they’re here first?”
Rosa shared a glance with Carny. He was smiling.
“It’s unusual, but I suppose we could do that,” Rosa said.
“I’ll look for Verdé,” Nurse Honey offered. “She likes to take her time with her prey. There’s a good chance I can get there in time.”
“Where are the others?” Phil asked.
“I can do a divination to find them,” Cέrμləa said.
They rushed from the room, nearly bowling Nÿte over in the process.
“We’ve got to go rescue some novice warlocks,” Cέrμləa explained excitedly.
* * * *
Jack Stone hated the outdoors. He hated the sun. He hated mud. He hated the smell. He hated the noise. He hated the trees. As he trudged along an overgrown path he hated every sliver of misfortune that had brought him to this hateful place.
He walked into a clearing and saw a sexy chick waiting for him. She was hawt. Long silky green hair billowed around a beautiful face with full sensual lips. Her billowing green robes left little to the imagination and her sexy figure matched anything between the pages of the porn stash he kept under his bed. She looked like a beautiful elf princess . . . with a really dirty mind.
Stone did not hate that.
Behind her a weird plant peeled open and revealed a soft white inner layer. It looked like a giant king-sized bed with a luxurious, super-soft mattress. The top leaves were translucent and curled over to provide shade.
“You look hot and bothered,” the girl said. “Why don’t you rest here for a while?”
She patted the white surface as if it was the bed it resembled.
“With me,” she added. Her green eyes glittered with the promise of sex.
That sounded like a really good idea. It was fucking hot. She was hot. He was sick of walking. It would be good to lie down for a while, especially with a chick with a bodacious body like that.
Who had horns.
Stone’s brow wrinkled. She had horns, wings and a tail.
Succubus!
Fuck, she must be trying to glamour him or some other mesmeric shit like that. Luckily it hadn’t taken hold.
“Flambasglob!”
Flames sprang to life in his right hand and he tossed a fireball at the lust daemon. Her seductive smile vanished and she yowled in pain as the ball of fire burst against her side.
Start of a kill streak, yeah baby.
Not quite, although he’d clipped her pretty good. She held her side and grimaced as she got back to her feet. Damn, he thought he’d put her down for good. Now he’d have to hit her with something else.
Or maybe not.
The succubus gave him a fearful glance and then dashed off between the trees.
to be continued . . .
And you don't actually have to wait for this cliffhanger as the whole chapter has gone live on Literotica right here.
Succubus Summoning 210 should be out next month and I'm hoping to get the full Succubus Summoning 201 book out before the end of the year. If you liked what you read, maybe I can interest you in some other work. ;)
Tomorrow I'll start the Violated Hero 5 playthrough.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Succubus Summoning 209 (part 6)
Okay, let's see if Phil can put up more of a fight this time . . .
Also for new readers, Phil's previous sexy adventures are collected here in Succubus Summoning 101. Give it a look if you like what you read here.
L’mactia bent her legs and lowered her body down on him. Her labia, puffed up like soft cushions, quivered in excitement. Her abdomen expanded as she inhaled his energy. L’mactia gave a low sigh of pleasure . . .
. . . which was cut off with a harsh exhalation of surprise. She staggered. The connection between them was broken. Freed of the soporific weight bearing down on his mind, the cogs and gears of Phil’s brain clicked into life.
“Immolatum nida Flambastinaai!”
A nimbus of fire surrounded him and ignited the webbing in an explosion that knocked L’mactia aside. The restraining silk burnt away and, free now, Phil rolled away. As he stood up he realised he was still on fire, although he felt no heat or any kind of burning sensation.
Wow, this was so cool, he thought, looking at the flames flickering over his arms like busy snakes. This was magic. This was what he’d wanted ever since Recruiting Officer Garner had given him that demonstration behind the McRestaurant.
No time to bask in the elation. He still had the spider daemon to worry about. He’d caught her in the explosion. Patches of pale skin on her right side were blackened and singed. It was little more than a scratch for her. The burnt patches of skin were already healing and fading away.
“Gladucx nidafacii Flambastinaai.”
He focused on the flames flickering over his arms and willed them to form a sword.
Super cool.
Unfortunately, L’mactia had backed off to the rear of the arena and was preparing magic of her own. She recited words Phil tried to pluck from the air, but these were too alien, too quixotic. They slithered through the grasping fingers of his mind and were gone. What they left behind was far more frightful.
“You could have had such a pleasant end,” she said.
A ball of dark energy formed in her palm and swelled up. It hit football size and grew further still. Green light, the colour of pus from a septic wound, flickered within the roiling ball of shadow. A horrible, overwhelming sense of determination emanated from the ball. Phil got the impression it was sentient. And hate-filled, so malevolently hate-filled. The ball wanted to smash him from existence and Phil sensed that even if he was able to get out of its way the ball would simply change course and continue to follow him. It would chase and follow him and not stop until it had utterly obliterated him.
What now?
It didn’t matter. On the verge of completing the spell, L’mactia staggered as if hurt and cried out in pain and frustration. Her loss of concentration had disrupted the summoning and the ball of blistering dark energy evaporated before it could fully manifest in this plane.
Phil didn’t know what had caused her lapse, but he knew he had to take advantage. He charged . . .
. . . and was nearly decapitated by one of her lashing legs.
Stupid. Reckless.
He had to limbo beneath the scything limb, but in the process lost balance and tumbled on his ass. Fuck, now he was totally open.
L’mactia didn’t take advantage, instead retreating along the curve of the arena wall. Phil got back to his feet and was surprised to find himself in the role of aggressor. He advanced and L’mactia backed away. Could it be fear of the flames? Rosa said they were vulnerable to fire.
Another clumsy swing—sword-fighting was much harder than how it looked in the swashbuckling films—gave L’mactia opportunity to put more distance between them. She twisted her abdomen and squirted a thick strand of gooey silk at him.
Phil moved his hand in a circular motion. “Shelduk nidafacii Flambastinaai.” The living flame swirled and formed a shield in front of him. The strands of silk hit the flickering flames and burnt away in harmless sprays of ash.
He threw fireballs at L’mactia with no success. She moved in a skittering stop-start manner that made it difficult to track her movements or predict where she’d be at any one moment. At best his fire kept her on the defensive, but for how long.
He was conscious his internal temperature was rising as he allowed more living flames through the portal he’d opened in his soul.
Burn her! the flames cried as they flowed out of his core and raced through his veins.
Set her on fire!
Set everything on fire!
Phil remembered Rosa’s words. Summon too much flame and the warlock would be consumed by it—roasted and blackened like a chunk of charcoal. He sensed that moment was approaching. The flames wailed their frustration as Phil slowed their flow to a trickle. The fire raging all over his body died right down. No more fireballs for him. He’d have to finish this with sword and shield.
L’mactia continued to keep her distance. Why wasn’t she attacking? Or using magic?
Phil was happy to get a break from her attacking. It was stalemate though. She was too fast and agile for him to get close to and she seemed reluctant to push the fight to him. Unfortunately, he suspected the stalemate would last only until he was forced to put out the flame completely. He needed to do something before then.
If only he could get her to stay still.
Then he remembered Verdé’s parting advice.
He went for another attack, but this one was a feint. While L’mactia dodged backwards he took the opportunity to crouch down and lay a hand flat on the sandy floor. Yes, he could hear it, feel it moving beneath him in the ground.
“Ĝiškimiti za bursaĝ ul Urpâdu ni Guberim li Išduum Qištu,” he called out to it.
L’mactia cried out in shock and surprise as green tendrils erupted from the sand beneath her and tangled around her legs and abdomen. She was yanked to the floor and bound by tangling roots. She bucked and swayed as she tried to pull her body free. Now there was fear in her eyes as she saw Phil approach.
“Sheldak nida Magique.”
An anti-magic shield surrounded her. Phil placed a hand on it . . .
“Dakshel exnida tanja vaarsta Magique.”
. . . and the shield dissipated into shards of light.
The flame sword in his hand was burning down and losing intensity. It would still be enough. L’mactia frantically muttered words of magic. They backfired. She yelped in pain as sparks burnt livid welts in her pale neck. Phil raised his sword . . .
He noticed the black collar around her neck. Electric blue sparks crackled around it.
Hey, wasn’t that . . . Oh.
It all made sense now.
Part 7 here
Also for new readers, Phil's previous sexy adventures are collected here in Succubus Summoning 101. Give it a look if you like what you read here.
* * * *
L’mactia bent her legs and lowered her body down on him. Her labia, puffed up like soft cushions, quivered in excitement. Her abdomen expanded as she inhaled his energy. L’mactia gave a low sigh of pleasure . . .
. . . which was cut off with a harsh exhalation of surprise. She staggered. The connection between them was broken. Freed of the soporific weight bearing down on his mind, the cogs and gears of Phil’s brain clicked into life.
“Immolatum nida Flambastinaai!”
A nimbus of fire surrounded him and ignited the webbing in an explosion that knocked L’mactia aside. The restraining silk burnt away and, free now, Phil rolled away. As he stood up he realised he was still on fire, although he felt no heat or any kind of burning sensation.
Wow, this was so cool, he thought, looking at the flames flickering over his arms like busy snakes. This was magic. This was what he’d wanted ever since Recruiting Officer Garner had given him that demonstration behind the McRestaurant.
No time to bask in the elation. He still had the spider daemon to worry about. He’d caught her in the explosion. Patches of pale skin on her right side were blackened and singed. It was little more than a scratch for her. The burnt patches of skin were already healing and fading away.
“Gladucx nidafacii Flambastinaai.”
He focused on the flames flickering over his arms and willed them to form a sword.
Super cool.
Unfortunately, L’mactia had backed off to the rear of the arena and was preparing magic of her own. She recited words Phil tried to pluck from the air, but these were too alien, too quixotic. They slithered through the grasping fingers of his mind and were gone. What they left behind was far more frightful.
“You could have had such a pleasant end,” she said.
A ball of dark energy formed in her palm and swelled up. It hit football size and grew further still. Green light, the colour of pus from a septic wound, flickered within the roiling ball of shadow. A horrible, overwhelming sense of determination emanated from the ball. Phil got the impression it was sentient. And hate-filled, so malevolently hate-filled. The ball wanted to smash him from existence and Phil sensed that even if he was able to get out of its way the ball would simply change course and continue to follow him. It would chase and follow him and not stop until it had utterly obliterated him.
What now?
It didn’t matter. On the verge of completing the spell, L’mactia staggered as if hurt and cried out in pain and frustration. Her loss of concentration had disrupted the summoning and the ball of blistering dark energy evaporated before it could fully manifest in this plane.
Phil didn’t know what had caused her lapse, but he knew he had to take advantage. He charged . . .
. . . and was nearly decapitated by one of her lashing legs.
Stupid. Reckless.
He had to limbo beneath the scything limb, but in the process lost balance and tumbled on his ass. Fuck, now he was totally open.
L’mactia didn’t take advantage, instead retreating along the curve of the arena wall. Phil got back to his feet and was surprised to find himself in the role of aggressor. He advanced and L’mactia backed away. Could it be fear of the flames? Rosa said they were vulnerable to fire.
Another clumsy swing—sword-fighting was much harder than how it looked in the swashbuckling films—gave L’mactia opportunity to put more distance between them. She twisted her abdomen and squirted a thick strand of gooey silk at him.
Phil moved his hand in a circular motion. “Shelduk nidafacii Flambastinaai.” The living flame swirled and formed a shield in front of him. The strands of silk hit the flickering flames and burnt away in harmless sprays of ash.
He threw fireballs at L’mactia with no success. She moved in a skittering stop-start manner that made it difficult to track her movements or predict where she’d be at any one moment. At best his fire kept her on the defensive, but for how long.
He was conscious his internal temperature was rising as he allowed more living flames through the portal he’d opened in his soul.
Burn her! the flames cried as they flowed out of his core and raced through his veins.
Set her on fire!
Set everything on fire!
Phil remembered Rosa’s words. Summon too much flame and the warlock would be consumed by it—roasted and blackened like a chunk of charcoal. He sensed that moment was approaching. The flames wailed their frustration as Phil slowed their flow to a trickle. The fire raging all over his body died right down. No more fireballs for him. He’d have to finish this with sword and shield.
L’mactia continued to keep her distance. Why wasn’t she attacking? Or using magic?
Phil was happy to get a break from her attacking. It was stalemate though. She was too fast and agile for him to get close to and she seemed reluctant to push the fight to him. Unfortunately, he suspected the stalemate would last only until he was forced to put out the flame completely. He needed to do something before then.
If only he could get her to stay still.
Then he remembered Verdé’s parting advice.
He went for another attack, but this one was a feint. While L’mactia dodged backwards he took the opportunity to crouch down and lay a hand flat on the sandy floor. Yes, he could hear it, feel it moving beneath him in the ground.
“Ĝiškimiti za bursaĝ ul Urpâdu ni Guberim li Išduum Qištu,” he called out to it.
L’mactia cried out in shock and surprise as green tendrils erupted from the sand beneath her and tangled around her legs and abdomen. She was yanked to the floor and bound by tangling roots. She bucked and swayed as she tried to pull her body free. Now there was fear in her eyes as she saw Phil approach.
“Sheldak nida Magique.”
An anti-magic shield surrounded her. Phil placed a hand on it . . .
“Dakshel exnida tanja vaarsta Magique.”
. . . and the shield dissipated into shards of light.
The flame sword in his hand was burning down and losing intensity. It would still be enough. L’mactia frantically muttered words of magic. They backfired. She yelped in pain as sparks burnt livid welts in her pale neck. Phil raised his sword . . .
He noticed the black collar around her neck. Electric blue sparks crackled around it.
Hey, wasn’t that . . . Oh.
It all made sense now.
Part 7 here
Saturday, July 26, 2014
Succubus Summoning 209 (part 5)
Okay, enough trolling. Here's Phil taking on L'mactia in a magical duel.
And as I'm no longer flying quite by the seat of my pants, I'll see if I can respond to some of the comments on the earlier parts.
L’mactia was the arachne that had attacked Phil in the showers at Wargsnouts. She recognised him and also looked surprised to see him there.
Nÿte had her on a leash. It was attached to a black collar L’mactia wore around her pale neck. The collar was the only thing she wore—the rest of her upper body was totally naked. Her skin was unnaturally pale and possessed a bluish tinge that marked her out as a creature more at home in the dark cracks between realities. As with the other succubi, her upper half was as generously proportioned as a typical glamour model—slim at the waist, voluptuous at the chest. She had the high cheekbones and sensual lips of a gothic beauty. Three pairs of red orbs adorned her forehead and temples. They could have been mistaken for body jewellery, but Phil knew they were additional eyes.
What was she doing here?
Surely they didn’t expect him to fight her. Arachnes weren’t an approved summon until at least the fifth year. Later even than succubi.
Nÿte addressed the audience like a circus ringmaster announcing the next act.
“This is the lowly daemon that ambushed Master from the darkness and nearly took his life and soul. We bring her here and present her to him, to deal with as he deems fit.”
Phil didn’t think it was going to work out that way. More likely they’d just given the daemon a second opportunity to finish the job.
Nÿte unhooked the leash and whispered something in the arachne’s ear. Then she opened her great black wings and flew up to the top row of seating to join Verdé and the others.
That left Phil alone in the ring . . . with L’mactia.
“You’re still alive,” L’mactia said. Her blood-red lips curled up in a smile.
Phil watched the spider daemon warily. He tried to remember what he knew about them. They hadn’t been covered in his usual studies, but he remembered seeing them in one of the bestiaries of lust daemons he’d flicked through with Jake.
“What kind of pervert would summon one of them for sex?” Jake had joked as they’d looked at the pictures. It wasn’t the most helpful of memories.
“I thought I’d left you dead for sure,” L’mactia said.
Even though she’d been captured and brought here against her will, she still regarded Phil with amusement, as if he was nothing more than an entertaining little diversion.
She shrugged. “I did warn her that such things were not precise, that it would be better to let me suck and suck until nothing was left of you but a pretty little shell, but she was most insistent on the matter. I did not think much of her, in truth. She was not as skilled as she believed herself to be.”
As she rolled her tongue around suck Phil felt a traitorous throb of interest in his crotch. L’mactia sensed it too. Her full lips came together in a seductive pout.
“I think you want me to take another suck,” she teased.
She tensed as if about to pounce and Phil instinctively jumped backwards, almost losing his balance in the process.
L’mactia laughed. “So skittish. I know your cock wants it. It wants to be buried in my softest, wettest silk while my abdomen sucks and sucks and sucks.”
Her bloated black abdomen pulsed obscenely. Sticky white liquid dripped from the tip and puddled on the floor.
Phil’s traitorous penis bulged out in an erection. It remembered and wanted more. Phil tried to push the distraction out of his mind.
L’mactia sensed the conflict and laughed.
“Mmm, let me prepare some really soft silk for you. She sucked on a finger while her abdomen throbbed with lewd intent.
Phil threw a fireball at her.
L’mactia formed a circular shield of energy and swatted the fireball away.
“Feisty.” She smiled.
Phil just about had time to summon an anti-daemon shield before L’mactia was on him. Or rather, all over him. Or at least would have been if it hadn’t been for his shield. She wrapped her long black legs around it and reared up over him. He felt the pressure of her body around his protective sphere transmuted to an invisible force pressing down on his skull.
“I don’t know what they thought they were achieving by bringing me here,” L’mactia said. “You’re barely a novice. This shield is about as useful as a soap bubble.”
She placed a hand flat against Phil’s protective sphere.
“Dakshel exnida tanja vaarsta Magique.”
Phil’s shield dissipated as L’mactia dismissed it. At the same time the tip of her bulbous abdomen flicked forwards and sprayed a thin stream of fine silk. Her webbing found the gap in Phil’s robes and adhered to his crotch and inner thighs.
He really needed to steal a pair of underpants.
L’mactia flexed her abdomen back and Phil was yanked off his feet. She dragged him beneath her body. He looked up between the half-moon globes of her pendulous breasts and saw her smile triumphantly.
“There will be no revenge for you today,” she said.
Her abdomen quivered obscenely before spitting out a thick glob of webbing that glued Phil to the floor.
“Or maybe that was never the intention,” L’mactia said. “Maybe you enjoyed the taste of my silky pleasures so much you wanted more.”
She reached back and rubbed her slowly throbbing abdomen.
“Very well, I’ll give you some of my special silk.”
Phil heard a lewd sound like thick cream bubbling out of a nozzle. He felt a warm substance envelop his erection. He felt his penis jerk as the spider daemon bobbed her abdomen up and down. She manipulated Phil’s cock with threads of silk like a master puppeteer, causing a surge of blood and pleasure to rush to his crotch. He tried to think of a way to escape this predicament, but L’mactia’s expert tugs kept breaking his concentration until his breath became ragged and exited his mouth in low pants.
“This time there are no special clauses,” L’mactia. “No interruptions to disturb our pleasure.”
Her abdomen dropped lower. Two chitinous plates at the front of her body—where her human half met her arachnid half, and where the vagina would be on a normal woman—slid open and her labia, puffy and swollen, emerged. The strong musk of her arousal flowed out and covered Phil’s face like a smothering pillow.
“My kind’s reputation for cruelty is undeserved,” L’mactia said. “Your end will be a sweet one. I’ll bury your face in my luscious pussy while I drain you.”
The wet silk entwined around Phil’s cock changed, became a tube of pulsing dark energy. It stroked up and down his erection, gently coaxing his own energy out. Phil shivered as unearthly pleasures pulled at him. All the tension had fled his body. He felt like he was floating on a bubble.
Overhead he watched Verdé fly through a sky the colour of aroused flesh. Her wings flapped, carrying her away from the arena. Phil didn’t blame her. He hadn’t put up much of a fight.
Oh dear. That didn't go too well for our novice warlock.
Part 6 here
And as I'm no longer flying quite by the seat of my pants, I'll see if I can respond to some of the comments on the earlier parts.
* * * *
L’mactia was the arachne that had attacked Phil in the showers at Wargsnouts. She recognised him and also looked surprised to see him there.
Nÿte had her on a leash. It was attached to a black collar L’mactia wore around her pale neck. The collar was the only thing she wore—the rest of her upper body was totally naked. Her skin was unnaturally pale and possessed a bluish tinge that marked her out as a creature more at home in the dark cracks between realities. As with the other succubi, her upper half was as generously proportioned as a typical glamour model—slim at the waist, voluptuous at the chest. She had the high cheekbones and sensual lips of a gothic beauty. Three pairs of red orbs adorned her forehead and temples. They could have been mistaken for body jewellery, but Phil knew they were additional eyes.
What was she doing here?
Surely they didn’t expect him to fight her. Arachnes weren’t an approved summon until at least the fifth year. Later even than succubi.
Nÿte addressed the audience like a circus ringmaster announcing the next act.
“This is the lowly daemon that ambushed Master from the darkness and nearly took his life and soul. We bring her here and present her to him, to deal with as he deems fit.”
Phil didn’t think it was going to work out that way. More likely they’d just given the daemon a second opportunity to finish the job.
Nÿte unhooked the leash and whispered something in the arachne’s ear. Then she opened her great black wings and flew up to the top row of seating to join Verdé and the others.
That left Phil alone in the ring . . . with L’mactia.
“You’re still alive,” L’mactia said. Her blood-red lips curled up in a smile.
Phil watched the spider daemon warily. He tried to remember what he knew about them. They hadn’t been covered in his usual studies, but he remembered seeing them in one of the bestiaries of lust daemons he’d flicked through with Jake.
“What kind of pervert would summon one of them for sex?” Jake had joked as they’d looked at the pictures. It wasn’t the most helpful of memories.
“I thought I’d left you dead for sure,” L’mactia said.
Even though she’d been captured and brought here against her will, she still regarded Phil with amusement, as if he was nothing more than an entertaining little diversion.
She shrugged. “I did warn her that such things were not precise, that it would be better to let me suck and suck until nothing was left of you but a pretty little shell, but she was most insistent on the matter. I did not think much of her, in truth. She was not as skilled as she believed herself to be.”
As she rolled her tongue around suck Phil felt a traitorous throb of interest in his crotch. L’mactia sensed it too. Her full lips came together in a seductive pout.
“I think you want me to take another suck,” she teased.
She tensed as if about to pounce and Phil instinctively jumped backwards, almost losing his balance in the process.
L’mactia laughed. “So skittish. I know your cock wants it. It wants to be buried in my softest, wettest silk while my abdomen sucks and sucks and sucks.”
Her bloated black abdomen pulsed obscenely. Sticky white liquid dripped from the tip and puddled on the floor.
Phil’s traitorous penis bulged out in an erection. It remembered and wanted more. Phil tried to push the distraction out of his mind.
L’mactia sensed the conflict and laughed.
“Mmm, let me prepare some really soft silk for you. She sucked on a finger while her abdomen throbbed with lewd intent.
Phil threw a fireball at her.
L’mactia formed a circular shield of energy and swatted the fireball away.
“Feisty.” She smiled.
Phil just about had time to summon an anti-daemon shield before L’mactia was on him. Or rather, all over him. Or at least would have been if it hadn’t been for his shield. She wrapped her long black legs around it and reared up over him. He felt the pressure of her body around his protective sphere transmuted to an invisible force pressing down on his skull.
“I don’t know what they thought they were achieving by bringing me here,” L’mactia said. “You’re barely a novice. This shield is about as useful as a soap bubble.”
She placed a hand flat against Phil’s protective sphere.
“Dakshel exnida tanja vaarsta Magique.”
Phil’s shield dissipated as L’mactia dismissed it. At the same time the tip of her bulbous abdomen flicked forwards and sprayed a thin stream of fine silk. Her webbing found the gap in Phil’s robes and adhered to his crotch and inner thighs.
He really needed to steal a pair of underpants.
L’mactia flexed her abdomen back and Phil was yanked off his feet. She dragged him beneath her body. He looked up between the half-moon globes of her pendulous breasts and saw her smile triumphantly.
“There will be no revenge for you today,” she said.
Her abdomen quivered obscenely before spitting out a thick glob of webbing that glued Phil to the floor.
“Or maybe that was never the intention,” L’mactia said. “Maybe you enjoyed the taste of my silky pleasures so much you wanted more.”
She reached back and rubbed her slowly throbbing abdomen.
“Very well, I’ll give you some of my special silk.”
Phil heard a lewd sound like thick cream bubbling out of a nozzle. He felt a warm substance envelop his erection. He felt his penis jerk as the spider daemon bobbed her abdomen up and down. She manipulated Phil’s cock with threads of silk like a master puppeteer, causing a surge of blood and pleasure to rush to his crotch. He tried to think of a way to escape this predicament, but L’mactia’s expert tugs kept breaking his concentration until his breath became ragged and exited his mouth in low pants.
“This time there are no special clauses,” L’mactia. “No interruptions to disturb our pleasure.”
Her abdomen dropped lower. Two chitinous plates at the front of her body—where her human half met her arachnid half, and where the vagina would be on a normal woman—slid open and her labia, puffy and swollen, emerged. The strong musk of her arousal flowed out and covered Phil’s face like a smothering pillow.
“My kind’s reputation for cruelty is undeserved,” L’mactia said. “Your end will be a sweet one. I’ll bury your face in my luscious pussy while I drain you.”
The wet silk entwined around Phil’s cock changed, became a tube of pulsing dark energy. It stroked up and down his erection, gently coaxing his own energy out. Phil shivered as unearthly pleasures pulled at him. All the tension had fled his body. He felt like he was floating on a bubble.
Overhead he watched Verdé fly through a sky the colour of aroused flesh. Her wings flapped, carrying her away from the arena. Phil didn’t blame her. He hadn’t put up much of a fight.
Oh dear. That didn't go too well for our novice warlock.
Part 6 here
Friday, July 25, 2014
Succubus Summoning 209 (part 4)
A rather short post today as we switch PoV to another one of the students. That's how the sub-chapters break I'm afraid. Tomorrow's post will be longer.
This was so gay, Jack Stone thought.
He looked around and saw he was surrounded by lush, verdant jungle. Vast trees rose up into the sky. Long creepers dangled from their branches. Exotic blooms exploded all around him in a profusion of riotous colours.
Some would have been awed by the spectacle. Not Stone. He hated the outdoors. It was wet, smelly and icky.
No, he’d rather he was back in his room playing Xbox and sharing a fat roach with his righteous buddy, the Pholi Xonz.
He wished Joey and Herbie hadn’t been so quick to agree with Darvill. He hadn’t wanted to go through the portal—busting into hell, fuck that crazy shit—but once the others had said yes he didn’t want to be the odd one out.
Where were they anyway? Where was this?
Stone had expected the Circle of Lust to be like the set of an expensive porno—big beds, soft divans, perfumed cushions, gauzy silk curtains blowing in a sultry breeze. He hadn’t expected to end up in some fucking reeking jungle. Maybe all this plant growth was a representation of fecundity or some other shit like that.
Stone didn’t like it.
Something must have gone wrong. Maybe Darvill had screwed up. They must have gotten separated after passing through the door in Rowling’s room.
“Where now, buddy?” he asked his righteous buddy, the Pholi Xonz.
The hairy slothxren pointed in the direction of a narrow trail winding through the massive trees.
Stone sighed. He hoped the others hadn’t been ported too far away. He hated walking. As he walked down the overgrown trail he decided the smell of the jungle wasn’t as horrible as he first thought. There was an earthy, musky taint to the air that made his balls itch pleasantly.
Part 5 here. Phil vs L'mactia!
* * * *
This was so gay, Jack Stone thought.
He looked around and saw he was surrounded by lush, verdant jungle. Vast trees rose up into the sky. Long creepers dangled from their branches. Exotic blooms exploded all around him in a profusion of riotous colours.
Some would have been awed by the spectacle. Not Stone. He hated the outdoors. It was wet, smelly and icky.
No, he’d rather he was back in his room playing Xbox and sharing a fat roach with his righteous buddy, the Pholi Xonz.
He wished Joey and Herbie hadn’t been so quick to agree with Darvill. He hadn’t wanted to go through the portal—busting into hell, fuck that crazy shit—but once the others had said yes he didn’t want to be the odd one out.
Where were they anyway? Where was this?
Stone had expected the Circle of Lust to be like the set of an expensive porno—big beds, soft divans, perfumed cushions, gauzy silk curtains blowing in a sultry breeze. He hadn’t expected to end up in some fucking reeking jungle. Maybe all this plant growth was a representation of fecundity or some other shit like that.
Stone didn’t like it.
Something must have gone wrong. Maybe Darvill had screwed up. They must have gotten separated after passing through the door in Rowling’s room.
“Where now, buddy?” he asked his righteous buddy, the Pholi Xonz.
The hairy slothxren pointed in the direction of a narrow trail winding through the massive trees.
Stone sighed. He hoped the others hadn’t been ported too far away. He hated walking. As he walked down the overgrown trail he decided the smell of the jungle wasn’t as horrible as he first thought. There was an earthy, musky taint to the air that made his balls itch pleasantly.
* * * *
Part 5 here. Phil vs L'mactia!
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