Updates and a St Patrick's Day Sales Promotion on All Romance Ebooks

Yes, yes, there should be a Succubus Summoning 212, part 3 here, I know.  I knew that chapter was going to be a swine to write and likely slide around the weekly schedule until I got on top of it.  The next part has some interesting revelations and a bunch of exposition that was tricky to write.  My first draft didn't exactly nail it, which meant the typing up part was a little slower and more painful than normal.

There should be a new part out this week.  It's about 500 words and a decent edit away.  I was going to put it out tomorrow and shift the usual H-space slots back, but what I'll do instead is post the H-space MGB pieces in their usual slots (as they're already done) and bump SS212, pt3 to Saturday.  That'll give me a chance to triple-check I haven't borked the exposition passages.

In other news, it's St Patrick's Day tomorrow, so it would be rather remiss of me not to remind you of the appropriately themed collection of short stories I put out this time last year:

I liked the cover on this one, but for some reason the book didn't come out the gate with similar sales as the other collections.  One of those things, I guess.  Anyway, if you missed it the first time around, there are thirteen stories waiting for you to read, some of them brand new and appearing only within this book.

The other reason to mention St Patrick's Day is because my publisher, Excessica, has let me know they're part of a St Patrick's Day sale on All Romance Ebooks.  For that day Excessica's entire catalogue of books will be 25% off on All Romance Ebooks.  So, if you've found me recently through my stories/reputation and would like to see what my published work is like, tomorrow is a good time to pick up my previous books at a discount.

My books can be found on All Romance Ebooks here.

Also, here are the other books Excessica offers.  Give them a look and see if any take your fancy.

ETA:  Hmm.  Okay those links don't quite go to where I was hoping.  They're still easy to find.  Author -> M. E. Hydra in the top right search box on the page will take you to my books and Publisher -> Excessica Publishing will do the same for my publisher.

Further Update: The links now go to the correct places.  Thanks for the fix suggestion in the comments, Anon.

H-space MGB Profile: Venus Mantrap

Name:  Venus Mantrap
Type:  Plant (or possibly something else—mollusc?—masquerading as a plant)
Habitat:  Jungle.  Dense Vegetation.

Description:
Resembles a single trap of a Venus flytrap, but on a considerably larger scale.  The humanoid part, which nearly always takes the form of a beautiful naked woman, resides between the leaves and is connected to the rest of the plant via a fibrous membrane running down the spine.  Catapult muscles connecting the humanoid portion to the leaf walls allow the plant to cast her out from between the leaves in order to attract and catch prey.

While the outside of the leaves is extremely hard, the inside is soft and padded and feels like flesh.

Attack Strategy:
Her humanoid part functions as both a lure and centre of intelligence for the organism.  She is part of a muscular apparatus that can be projected outside of the leaves in order to capture prey.  Captured men (and sometimes women) are pulled back between the leaves, which then close around them.

Once her prey is caught between her padded leaves the Venus mantrap will strip them, wrap her arms and legs around them, and then get them aroused enough to have sex with her.  This is aided by various aromatic and aphrodisiac oils secreted through her skin.

She stimulates her captive to multiple climaxes and then, after no more sexual fluids can be drawn from their body, she disgorges a stew of various enzymes over them.  The primary component is a digestive enzyme to liquefy flesh and soft tissues.  Mercifully, this digestive fluid also contains substances with both strong analgesic and aphrodisiac properties.  This instils a state of heightened sensual bliss in the victim so that they are unaware of what's happening to them.

(Why?  Why care?  Why not just catch and digest?  The one specimen we were able to interrogate said it was important that they take their prey to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy and keep them there as they begin to digest them, but why, why, why?)

Once digestion is done the Venus mantrap will open her leaves and use the catapult muscles to fling the indigestible material such as bones far from the main plant.

Countermeasures:
The Venus mantrap, being a plant*, is stationary.  She can only capture prey that stray within a narrow arc that extends from the trap opening to a distance approximately equal to the depth of the mantrap.  As long as you stay outside of that arc, the mantrap can't grab you.

*(Maybe, I'm not convinced on this.  The outer shell and inner flesh seem to be more in keeping with some kind of enormous shellfish.  Mimicry?)

Should one of your party be caught and brought between the leaves then I'm afraid the prognosis is not good.  It would take heavy earth-moving machinery to prise the leaves (shell?) open, heavy earth-moving machinery which we do not currently have access to.  The outer surface is impervious to all but high explosives, and using them would likely kill her captive in the process.

The soft interior is vulnerable, but if the Venus mantrap perceives herself to be under threat she will simply retreat between and close her leaves.

Avoidance is the best strategy here.  Be vigilant and don't step into her capture arc.

Threat Level:
Low**

**upgraded to Moderate.  Our men are still straying into her capture arc even when forewarned.  There might be an additional pheromonal or similar component to the lure that is drawing people in despite the warnings.

H-space MGB Story: Venus Mantrap

PFC Stewart Peter Bate would have given the giant flytrap leaves a wide berth had he not heard noises coming from between them.

"Hello?  Is there someone in there?"

What were those sounds?  Bate heard soft moans and sighs.  They were more like sounds of sexual activity than moans of pain.  It reminded him of a hotel room he'd stopped in once, where he'd heard muffled sounds coming through the wall and had wondered if the sounds were coming from the next room's TV or its occupants.  And, just like that time back in the hotel room, Bate felt a burning curiosity to see what was making those noises.

The leaf was green and enormous.  It was about the same height as a two-story house and about the same length as an average garage.  It was roughly semi-circular in shape, with a fringe of green spines pointing inwards towards an identical leaf just behind the first.  It reminded Bate of a Venus flytrap, but on a vastly larger scale.  Bate wondered what flying prey this plant caught—helicopters?

The giant leaves did not look out of place.  The jungle was full of alien vegetation because it was well... alien.  It was also hot... and humid as hell.  The sweat poured off Bate.  It soaked into his uniform and collected in his underwear.  Bate wanted to give his balls and ass a good scratch, but he knew the itch would only get worse when he stopped.

He heard the noises again—soft slithering sounds punctuated with muffled sighs.

And now Bate's junk was itching for a different reason.

He rubbed a hand across his brow.  Maybe it was something in the air.  The whole damn jungle felt like it was bursting with fecundity.  Strangely, they'd seen no sign of any animal life since entering it—no birds, no monkeys, not even any insects.  Just plants, lots and lots of plants.

Gingerly, Bate touched the side of the flytrap leaf.  It was hard... shell-like.  Metal-like, even.  It was like putting his hand on the hull of a battleship.  He could still hear those muffled, strangely erotic sounds coming from the other side.

He had to know what was making those sounds.

He walked around to look at the leaves edge on.  At this angle it really did look like the entrance to a Venus flytrap.  The leaves were padded on the inside and livid red in color.  Green spines bridged the gap like bars.  Between the two leaves was darkness.  It was within that darkness the noises were coming from.

The leaves shimmered in the jungle haze.  For a brief moment Bate thought he was staring at a gigantic vulva.

It was easy for Bate to investigate.  All he needed to do was duck under one of those teeth-like tines.

Yeah right, like he was that fucking stupid.  No way was he stepping between those jaws.  Not even if the hottest starlet in Hollywood was getting herself off at the far end.  In fact, he was already standing a little too close to them than was comfortable.  He knew Venus flytraps on Earth were passive, but that was Earth and this was not Earth.  For all he knew those jaws might snap up anything straying too close like a turtle snapping up a frog.

He backed away to the far side of the clearing.  His eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the shade between the two monstrous leaves.

There was someone or something in there, he was sure of it.  Bate took out an electric torch, switched it on and shone it between the flytrap leaves.

He was too far back.  The torch light didn't penetrate the gloom very far.  Wait, there was something back there.  He caught a glimpse of pink skin... a leg, an arm.

Attracted by the light, the something got up and walked to the edge of the leaves.  Bate saw it was a woman.  At first he thought she was naked, but on closer inspection her skin didn't look right.  The color was bordering on the unnatural and she looked a little too... moist.  It looked like she was wearing a second skin over her own that was too loose for her body.  Or she'd been rolling around in wet pink mud.

She smiled at Bate and posed for him on the other side of the green bars like a hooker trying to lure in a john.  And to be fair to her, she had the moves.  Her breasts were large and lovably squishable.  The rest of her had all the curves while still being slim enough to tick all the boxes.  Her movements were a slow, sensual belly dance that heated Bate's blood up more than the sweltering jungle around him.

She beckoned to Bate and urged him to come to her.  There was no doubt what she wanted from him, and even if there was, she made it more than clear in the way her other finger was trailing between the exposed labia of her pussy.

The leaves started to pull apart like great iron gates opening.  The maybe-naked girl threw her arms out to Bate as if imploring him to charge across the clearing and gather her up in his arms.

Bate was sorely tempted.  She had a really sexy bod, and he was between girlfriends so he didn't have to worry about cheating on anyone back home.

He held his ground.

Some sense was tingling.  She was too pink.  And a weird sort of pink at that, and wet... moist...  It was like she'd been turned inside out without any of the obvious grossness you'd expect from seeing someone with their skin turned inside out.  And there was still those great flytrap leaves.  They continued to swing open.

Still with her arms outstretched, the woman receded away from him as though she was bound to each leaf and the plant opening up was pulling her tethers taut.

Bate's heart quickened in his chest.  It felt like something precious had been dangled before him and was now being taken away.

He didn't move forward, but he didn't move away either.

What happened next happened too fast for Bate to properly register.  The two great flytrap leaves whooshed together like bellows, there was a blur of motion and the pink, maybe-naked girl was standing right in front of him.  Bate was too surprised to react as she grabbed his collar, pulled his face forwards and pressed her lips against his in a kiss.  Her other arm looped around his lower back.

Bate barely had a chance to register a hot woman was kissing him when his feet left the ground and he was propelled forwards as if shot from a catapult.  He shot across the clearing and between the flytrap leaves until his forward momentum was stopped by the soft, yielding body of the pink girl.

It was a good way to be brought to a halt—jammed up against the naked body of a hot woman.  She hadn't stopped kissing him the whole time.  Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands slipped under his shirt to roam all over his chest and then around his back.  Bate got into it as well.  He slid his hands down her smooth, sweat-slick curves and returned her kiss with the same ardor.

He wanted to put his arms around her as well, but no matter how he tried to worm his hands between her back and the fleshy wall she was pressed up against he kept encountering some kind of stretchy barrier that blocked his way.  It was as if there was no gap at all and the woman's body merged seamlessly into the spongy wall behind them.

While Bate was trying to get his arms around his new companion, shadows fell across him as the giant flytrap leaves smoothly swung back together.  He was too engrossed in exploring the body of his new love to notice.  She was coated in some kind of aromatic oil that made it so easy for his hands to slide over her lush contours.

He was also too engrossed to notice he was now naked with no recollection of how this had occurred.  In a fanciful turn of imagination he wondered if she'd pulled him across the clearing so fast she'd yanked him right out of his clothes as though he was a character in a Looney Tunes cartoon.  In reality his uniform had rotted away on contact with the oils covering her body and sloughed off him like a reptile's discarded skin.

It took the padded interior walls of the flytrap leaves pressing up against his flanks to remind him where he was.  He glanced up and saw the light from outside was restricted to narrow bars filtering between the tines on the edge of the leaves.  It looked a long way away.

"Are we safe here?" Bate asked.  "This plant looks like it might be carnivorous."

The pink girl kissed him on the cheek.

"This plant is me," she said to him in perfect English.  "And now I have you caught, pinned between my padded leaves."

Her arms and legs slithered between the padded walls and Bate's body as she wrapped her limbs around him and drew him close.

"And you know what happens to those that get caught," the pink girl said.

"They're fucked," Bate said.

With horror, he realized he was fucked.  The walls had closed in so much he was wedged between them and couldn't move.  He wondered what the fluids covering her body—and now his!—really were.  They'd already rotted away his uniform.

"That's right," she said.  "We fuck... and fuck... and fuck."

Bate's sudden fearful revelation hadn't yet had a chance to percolate down to his boner.  Her oil-slick limbs roaming all over his naked body had perked his dick up into an interested erection.  She pressed up against him.  His erect cock pushed between two fleshy lips and entered her warm sex.  She sank down his shaft and he pushed up deeper into her heat and moistness.

This wasn't the fucked Bate had envisioned, but he was not about to complain.  Having sex with an alien girl was an infinite improvement over being eaten by one.  And she was tight, really tight.  Bate hadn't felt pussy as tight as this since high school.

She could also do things with her pussy Bate hadn't even realized were possible.  The walls tightened around his member, then relaxed.  Tightened... then relaxed.  Tightened... then relaxed.

It was a different kind of stimulation.  Wedged between the padded walls and tangled up in her limbs, there was no way for Bate to generate thrust in either direction.  Not that he needed to, the contractions of her vagina pulled on him with gentle tugs.  It wasn't just her sex—her thighs, her body, the padded walls, all squeezed him with the same rhythm.

It was... amazing.

"Water me with your seed," the pink girl said.

Bate hoped she was ready for a flood.  Those little squeezes of her pussy kept changing rhythm.  Every time he thought she was about to take him over the edge, she slowed down and let his climax build up and up until he knew the final release was going to be monstrous.

The padded walls sealed up around him until he was contained within them in his own little intimate pocket.  It didn't concern him.  He'd ceased thinking of it as a plant.  It felt more like he and a sexy playmate had been wedged between two soft mattresses in a kinky brothel.  Her body and the walls throbbed around him to the same sensual rhythm.

"Water you, I'm going to drown you!" Bate laughed.

She smiled at him.  Her pussy squeezed and tugged.  Faster now.  There would be no coming back from the edge this time.  Bate used what little degree of freedom he had to press his hips up against her and groan as he finally erupted.  It was monstrous, a gush of release like nothing he'd ever experienced before.

Here too was more proof that she was more than the hot little slut wrapped around him.  The pulsing tunnel of her sex was long and terminated not in a womb but a large chamber behind and beneath her body.  That chamber expanded and Bate felt the suction pulling at him.  He erupted again—a second orgasm in its own right and even stronger than the first.  It emptied his balls as fast as if she'd dropped a hose in his tank and siphoned of all his gas, leaving him a twitching wreck of jittery misfiring neurons.

A happy twitching wreck of jittery misfiring neurons.  That was... satisfaction.

"That was amazing," he said.  "And to think I thought you were a carnivorous plant."

"Oh, but I am a carnivorous plant, my dear," the Venus mantrap said.

She pressed her lips against Bate's.  Her throat worked and she spewed a torrent of liquid down Bate's throat.  Within the fluid mix was a complex anesthetic compound that drugged Bate and shut down his pain receptors.  This was a small mercy on the part of the Venus mantrap.  The majority of the liquid was a highly corrosive acid that melted through Bate's flesh like boiling water through soft butter.  Some ate through his throat and flooded his chest.  The rest flooded into his central cavity and liquefied his internal organs.  Bate didn't even feel it.  Within the digestive acids was another exotic drug—a potent aphrodisiac—that, together with the pulsing motions of her vagina, triggered another explosive climax from Bate.  His last conscious moment was the most intense burst of pleasure he'd ever experienced, even as his meat sloughed off his bones and he spurted his own liquefied innards into her pulsing vagina.

The mantrap drank him down with great lusty gulps.

* * * *

PFC Stewart Peter Bate caught movement out of the corner of his eye.  He turned to see a pink figure shooting forwards as if on a bungee rope.  In the brief moment he had to see her, Bate thought he was looking at an attractive and naked young woman.  At the apex of her forward motion she opened her arms and threw a collection of debris out across the jungle.  Then, just as fast as she'd appeared, she was reeled back between a pair of giant green flytrap leaves that closed around her like heavy iron gates.

The trash she'd jettisoned rained down through the foliage to the right of Bate.

Was that part of a human skeleton?

Bate went over to investigate and put his hand to his mouth as he made the horrifying discovery of a human skull and part of a ribcage lying against the base of a tree.  Both lay in puddles of vile green ichor.  Bate had a horrible feeling he was looking at the remains of one of his squad, but he couldn't for the life of him tell who it was.

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...

H-space MGB Profile: Ophimanibus

Name: Ophimanibus
Type:  Lamia
Habitat:  Desert.  Arid Mountains.

Description:
A dusky-skinned woman with snakes for her hair, snakes for her arms and the lower body of a giant snake.  Rather than a tail, her lower snake half—like her arms—terminates in another snake head.  None of these heads are false.  As in, they all possess working oesophagi that link to the same alimentary system.

(I have no idea how this all connects up inside them and I'm not sure I want to know.)

These charming ladies also possess fully functional poison fangs hidden within their breasts, although the poison is supposed to have some pleasurable side effects such as increasing libido and inducing euphoria.

Attack Strategy:
They are capable of altering perception so that they are seen as sultry dancing girls.  These dances have a mesmeric effect on their audience and allow the Ophimanibus to get close enough to bite her intended target.  Once bitten a man will become helpless and unable to resist while the Ophimanibus performs sex acts on him.

As with other hindigs, the Ophimanibi feed on semen, or rather some abstract spark of energy or life that is released during ejaculation.  While they consume the bodies afterwards, either with the lower tail mouth or sometimes even through their vagina, it is the draining of semen/energy that is fatal.  Their victims are usually dead by the time they are swallowed.

(Semen == Energy == Soul?)

Countermeasures:
Their hypnotic abilities appear to be sound based—possibly generated by the head snakes and occurring at a frequency outside the range of human hearing.  This is aided by a strange natural phenomenon at the edges of the Mandeville desert where they are found.  Wind through rock formations on the edge of the desert produces an odd acoustic effect that dulls reaction times and seems to make men more suggestible to the mesmeric abilities of the Ophimanibi.  Ear plugs should go some way to reducing the effectiveness of these attacks.

Conventional firearms are effective, assuming they're working.  If they're not, engaging Ophimanibi in close quarters is not advised.  They are fast, agile and the snake arms give them a lot of reach.  Their venom acts quickly once it enters the bloodstream and a single bite is enough to incapacitate a man.

Threat Level:
Moderate.

Even if their mesmeric abilities are resisted, Ophimanibi are extremely dangerous at close quarters because of their speed and multiple angles of attack.

H-space MGB Story: Ophimanibus

CPL Stewart Peter Bate didn't know how the women with snakes for arms had entered their camp.

Obviously they wouldn't have let them in had they known they had snakes for arms—and snake tails for their lower halves.

They let them in because the sultry desert maidens said they would dance for them and they were bored and horny enough to want to see some exotic dancing by sultry desert maidens.

No, that couldn't be right either.

There shouldn't be any desert maidens out here at all, sultry or otherwise.  They were in a temporary tent camp on the edge of the Mandeville desert.  The desert was named after the arrogant sonovabitch that had been nothing more than the embedded civilian science officer in the exploratory party that had first stumbled across it.  Now it was forever named after a skinny, bespectacled piece of shit who threw temper tantrums over the most trivial of things and pissed their pants at the first sign of trouble.

There shouldn't be any sultry desert maidens because this was H-space, not Earth, and they were supposedly the first humans to ever set foot in this dimension.

Or was it?

Bate had been posted to a lot of deserts.  They all tended to run together in his head.  It was probably the same for all of them.  They'd got confused, that's what it was.  They'd mixed this desert up with one on Earth that had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators.

Had any of those deserts ever had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators?

It was easy to get confused out here.  Out here was weird.  Out here was like being under a burning sun even though the sky was filled with a boiling mass of angry clouds.  Out here the wind whistled through strange rock formations and sounded like a secret mistress whispering lewd desires in your ear.

Bate's thoughts and memories were clouded.

Maybe that was why.

The sultry desert maidens had appeared at their camp as the skies had darkened in an approximation of nightfall.  They were naked apart from glittering jewels and filigree chains of precious metals hanging between their beautifully round breasts.  They'd asked the men if they wanted to see them dance and the men—being tired, bored and horny—had said yes.  And the women—those dark-eyed beauties with dusky skin and sinuous arms—had danced for the men and turned their blood to steam.

Bate and the men had thought the sultry desert maidens exotic in the way they danced with snakes draped over their shoulders.  Then they'd noticed that the snakes draped over their shoulders possessed a head at each end.  Then they'd noticed that the dusky maidens had no arms to hold the snakes up with.  The maidens needed no arms; the snakes were their arms.  Then they'd noticed it wasn't just the maidens' arms.  Instead of hair, the dancers' exquisite faces were framed with coils of hissing snakes.  And then they'd realised they'd been too focused on bouncing breasts and slinky hips to notice what was below the waists of these exotic dancers.  Instead of legs they had the lower half of a snake.  Or was it an upper half?  As with the arms, instead of terminating in a tail, their lower halves tapered down to a neck and another snake head with a flickering tongue.

And then all hell had broken loose.

Bate supposed he'd been one of the lucky ones.  He hadn't been bitten.  Many of his buddies were.  He'd watched as those sinuous arms with fanged snake heads for hands had struck with the speed and ferocity of angry rattlesnakes.  It wasn't the only place he'd seen fangs.  They had fangs in their tits as well.  Bate had watched them pop out of lush round breasts where the nipples should be... watched as the snake woman had hugged a man to her and sank those fangs into his chest... had watched as the man had convulsed and finally fallen still with white froth bubbling up out of his mouth.

Bate had got off lightly.  One of the snake heads had yawned open in front of him.  Its fangs had sprayed a fine cloud of venom into his face.  Bate had inhaled some of the poison and fallen senseless to the floor.

He woke up in a chair with his hands tied behind him and his legs bound together.  Hovering right in front of his face—too close, far too close—was the head of a large snake.  The snake's scales were red and shone as if polished.  Black beady eyes stared right at Bate while a forked tongue flickered back and forth.

Cold sweat rose on Bate's face.  He struggled against his bonds.  His bonds struggled back and Bate realised he hadn't been tied up with rope.  A snake woman sat behind him.  One of her snake arms had coiled around his wrists.  Her tail was coiled around his ankles.  Both bonds might as well have been forged from iron.  Her snake arm constricted and Bate's arms were wrenched back in a painful position.  He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his back.  Instead of the soft nubs of her nipples he felt the tips of something harder and sharper, something that scored lines across his naked back and left trails like vinegar in an exposed wound, something pointed that could pop out and sink deep into his vulnerable flesh at any moment.

"Why so fearful?" the snake woman behind him said.  Her hair hissed.  "We danced for you.  Now we offer you more personal pleasures."

The snake head hovering before Bate gaped open and revealed a fleshy pink interior.  It was wrong.  He'd seen the inside of a snake's mouth from the time he'd had to deal with a nest of rattlers back on the family ranch.  What he was looking at bore little resemblance.  At the back of the snake's throat was a wall of pink flesh with a vertical slit in the centre.  The opening was lined with multiple soft flaps of tissue.  It looked like...

Oh no.

No, surely not.

The monster behind him chuckled.

"Our dances inflamed your passions," she said.  "Now let us quench them."

Her fangs sprayed venom in his face.  Again it diffused out in a fine mist that enveloped Bate's head and was breathed in before he could stop himself.  This time, rather than knocking him out, the toxin had a more insidious effect on his body.  He felt it immediately as his heart started to beat faster in his chest.  A hot flush ran beneath his skin like a forest fire.  The heat flowed down to his loins and concentrated in his cock and balls.  His penis swelled with blood and rose like a fruiting mushroom.  His balls felt swollen and taut.  He really wanted to bust a nut out.

But not here.  And definitely not with this... thing.

The snake woman kissed his cheek.  Many tiny tongues from the snakes she had as hair flickered against his skin.

"Tension is poison," she whispered in his ear.  "Let me draw it out of you."

The snake's head she had for a hand turned its attention down to his tumescent manhood.

No.  No no no.

Bate squirmed and struggled, but was unable to wriggle out of the coils binding his wrist and ankles.  The snake head had floated down to his crotch and regarded his cock as though it was a piece of small furry prey it wished to gulp down.

Tears welled up in Bate's eyes.  He shook his head.

The snake's flickering tongue tickled across the bulbous head of Bate's penis.  The movements weren't random.  The snake woman paid special attention to Bate's urethral opening.  Bate's cock gave a little twitch and a little bead of precum emerged from the tip.  The snake's tongue lapped it up with flickering little licks that aroused Bate further.

"Mmm, you taste nice," the snake woman whispered to him.

Then the snake mouth opened wide and gobbled up Bate's erection.

His cock pushed through the flanges at the back of her throat and entered a tight tunnel of moist flesh.  Muscle bunched up and stroked up his shaft in peristaltic contractions.

It felt good.

Fuck, it felt shameful to admit it, but it felt good.

If it was a snake he'd have thought it a weird side effect of the stupid critter trying to swallow his dick.  It wasn't a snake, though, it was an arm of the demon woman behind him and she knew exactly how to use it to trigger dark, shameful pleasures within Bate.  Warm fleshy walls rippled against Bate's member as she whispered foul suggestions in his ear.  Her throat—if it was that; it felt more like another orifice, one devoted to pleasure and procreation—gripped and sucked.

Bate came.  His mind had wandered, had taken the stimulation it was receiving and converted it into a mental image of the head of a blonde bombshell glamour model down in his lap and deep-throating him.  Once he'd created that image he couldn't get rid of it, and the moment it floated to the forefront of his thoughts it was enough to take his mind off what was really happening for a moment, and that moment was enough to take him over the threshold of climax.  His hips jerked and his penis throbbed as he spurted thick ropes of semen down the snake's throat.  Her snake-head arm gulped, and gulped, and gulped, and when the flow had finally died down to a trickle, the jaws closed and she sank fangs into the back of his balls.

There was pain as her fangs pierced his scrotal sac, then an overwhelming sense of euphoria like nothing he'd ever experienced before as her venom flooded his balls and diffused out into his body.  Her poison took hold of his balls and made them slave to her hungers.  They plumped up with fresh seed and deflated like bellows as Bate expelled a mighty blast of semen up into her fleshy tunnel.

And another.

And another.

And another.

Each was visible as a bulge travelling up her serpentine arm like freshly swallowed prey.

Each took with it a portion of Bate's soul.

The snake gulped and gulped until Bate was hollowed out... empty.  Still the snake woman wasn't finished.  The soul might have been the main prize, but she still had use for the meat left behind.  The jaws unhinged on the lowermost snake head, the one that could be found at the end of her 'tail'.  Bate's feet were engulfed, then his ankles, then his lower legs.  The snake gulped.

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.

to be continued...