Let's Play Violated Hero 5! part 1

Violated Hero 5 is out and by popular demand (okay, a couple of people requested it) I’ll be doing another Let’s Play similar to what I did with Violated Hero 4.  Obviously this will be more of a ‘Text Play’ as anything I posted to youtube or twitch would last approximately a few nano-seconds before being yanked for dubious content.

The Violated Hero franchise is a series of monster girl hentai games that followed the popularity of Monster Girl Quest.  The makers, Dieselmine, seem to have found a comfortable template and look intent on keeping to that until we all get bored.  Their main strengths are the production values—the artwork is frequently high quality and all the scenes are fully voiced.  Their main weaknesses are the game play—very bland JRPG mechanics with little depth.  Fortunately we’re not here for the game play.  The main appeal (to me anyway) is to see what bonkers craziness their monster girl characters get up to in the H scenes.

Which leads to the usual disclaimer: Violated Hero 5 is a hentai game and I won’t be censoring the nasty stuff as I don’t believe in that nonsense.  If you’re offended by such things or under the age of eighteen please bugger off now.  I don’t have any sympathy for people complaining about seeing nasty things after they’ve been explicitly warned they’re about to see nasty things.  The other disclaimer is a tedious age thing.  A common feature of Japanese monster girl hentai games is that the same character might be rendered to look anywhere from twelve to twenty-four depending on how pathetic/masculine they want them to appear for that scene.  For these games I generally assume the main character is a gormless dude just hitting adulthood (like me, years ago!) unless they make a big thing about it.  We’re here for the sexually dominant big-boobed monster girls.

With the boring disclaimers out of the way let’s start the game up.

Also boring, the title screen.  No sexy big-boobed monster girls on show and the demon throne room looks like the same artwork from the last game.

Onto the introduction.  The previous settings have been generic fantasy worlds with VH3’s feudal East Asia setting being the best.  This time around we’re into higher fantasy as there’s not one world but ten, each ruled over by a different monster girl boss.  Previous Violated Hero games have broken down into ten sub-boss monster girls and five more prominent monster characters that act as recurring characters.  I’m curious to see how this one will work as the boss of the 10th world looks like one of the more prominent characters rather than a sub-boss from the silhouette.

We start on the bottommost world, which appears to have a plant theme.

Ooh, nice artwork.  Very pretty.  That’s always been a strength of this series.

The hero’s name is Sion, but we’re going to call him Luka-clone the 5th because there are protocols to observe.  He’s hanging around treetop Hobbiton being gormless and pining for the heroic life when an angel called Ariel flies down and asks him to liberate the humans from their evil molesting monster girl overlords (what about the humans that like being sexually molested by super-sexy big-boobed monster girls, huh?).

I wouldn’t trust her, Luka-clone.  She’s an angel and angels are always evil in JRPGs.

Luka-clone asks her why he was picked out to be the chosen one to go fight the naughty (oh so naughty) monster girls.  Is it because she spotted the latent spark of heroism burning within him?

Nope, she had a ‘hunch’.

(I think she picked us out at random).

She gets very enthusiastic and then berates Luka-clone for not being enthusiastic about marching off to certain horrible death.  She sounds like an over-excitable Japanese game show host shouting Banzai! before pushing a hapless contestant into an embarrassing torture device masquerading as an assault course.

(I think she might be loopy)

Of course this could also be what passes for entertainment in monster girl land—pick out some gormless lad and throw him straight into the naughty tentacles of the nearest abomination for shit’n’giggles.  In which case I applaud your style, Ms Ariel.

Before we get going, here’s a little guide to help if you want to play along.

The game is in Japanese.  If we’re really lucky someone might make an English translation, but as the past translator of Violated Hero games, Dargoth, is currently buried in Sei Monmusu Gakuen, this might be a long wait.  I use AGTH as a text hooker with Translation Aggregator for the translating.  For more information, this forum on hongfire is very helpful.  Unfortunately Google translate appears to have blocked Translation Aggregator (would appreciate it if anyone knows a fix for this), so we can expect the machine translations to be even more erratic than normal.  Maybe I’ve used TA with dubious hentai games so often now Google has my IP tagged as a blackspot of utter depravity and must block me to preserve the sanity of their monitoring systems.

The game mechanics will be very familiar to anyone who’s played the previous two games.

Current world is displayed on the world map.  They all look themed with forest being the first theme.

Then in each world there are a number of locations to battle through.  In VH4 there was a boss at the end of each location.  In VH5 it looks like the boss is at the end of each world.

Each location consists of a short branching path.

We navigate it through this pseudo-3D screen (like Etrian Odyssey but with less maziness).  The box on the top left is our stats – HP, MP and how much XP to next level.  Arrows in the centre of the screen indicate direction choices.

The options on the bottom left are:

Map.  The bits we’ve explored and where we are (the levels aren’t very complicated—three trips is normally enough to step on every square.)

The status screen.  This breaks down to:

Our stats.  They correspond to HP, MP, Normal Attack, Normal Defence, Magic Attack, Magic Defence.  I don’t know which is which, but after a disastrous playthrough of VH3 that saw Luka-clone’s adventure cut short by placing all his eggs in the basket marked magic and then running headfirst into a boss with ridiculous magic defence, I’ll be spreading the points around evenly this time.

On the left hand side of the book are two options.  The top one currently leads to a blank screen, so I suspect that is for any special attacks I might pick up later.  The one below is the item screen.

Items have different icons this time around.  I still have no idea what they do other than the basic healing potions.

The book is a monsterpedia of defeated enemies.

Here you can go and perv over past conquests.

Back to the navigation screen and the 3rd option on the bottom right leads us to the same item screen we saw earlier.

Okay, that’s a rough guide on how to battle through the game with zero Japanese reading comprehension.  Part 2 is here.

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. 

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

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

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!

Succubus Summoning 209 (part 3)

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

Anyway, back to Phil...

* * * *

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

It looked like—

“Is that a fighting arena?” Phil asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’Sup,” Carny said to Phil.

“Hi,” Phil said back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carny continued to look doubtful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rosa ignored him and carried on with her explanation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get all that?”  Rosa smiled at him.

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

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

Phil’s eyes boggled in fear.

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

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

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

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

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

They?

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

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

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

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

“Savour this,” Rosa called down.

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

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

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

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

Phil recognised her.

Fuck

L’mactia.

* * * *

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

Part 4 here

Succubus Summoning 209 (part 2)

* * * *

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

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

Rash.  Stupid.

And now they were all dead.

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

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

He felt responsible.

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

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

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

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

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

Later was better than already consumed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* * * *

Part 3 here