Succubus Summoning 210

She didn't see him either.

He waited until she entered the room and then stepped out of the shadows behind her, blocking the exit with his considerable bulk in the process.

Herbie hated children. They were always making fun of his weight.

Until he caught them. Then the teasing changed to tears and begging when they found out that extra weight made it very easy to crush or snap child-sized limbs.

The girl turned around and gave a startled jump when she noticed Herbie was there.

"Oh there you are," she said. "We've been looking for you."

"We? There are others?" Herbie asked.

"Oh yes," the little blue-haired girl said. "They're out looking for your friends."

Herbie pondered her words.

"So they're not with you right now?" he asked.

The imp shook her head. "Nope," she said with pride. "I found you all by myself."

That childish excitement wavered when she saw the expression on Herbie's face. He took a step forwards. She took a step backwards. He took a step forwards. She took a step backwards. He took a step forwards. She backed up against the wall. There was nowhere else to go.

Herbie loomed over her. The minor nebrit on his shoulder chomped its teeth and chattered excitedly. Herbie reached up to pet it. He looked down at the little blue-haired girl and smiled wide enough to reveal his teeth.

"I think we might just eat you," he said.

The little imp with blue hair meeped in fear.

* * * *

"This doesn't seem the right time or place," Phil said.

Nÿte undid her corset and her voluptuous white boobs bounced free. Phil had seen them before, but they still drew his gaze like a moth to a flame every time.

"What about the tuell'daqhabbala?"Phil said, still sidling backwards.

"Gone back to the Cloaqal depths," Nÿte said. "There's nothing here to interest them now."

She nibbled on her lower lip. The force of her arousal gripped Phil tighter. He felt phantom fingers tickle the underside of his scrotal sac and dance up his shaft.

"Shouldn't we go and look for the others?" Phil asked.

"The other succubi will find them."

Phil knew that. It's what he was afraid of.

Nÿte walked towards him, all elegance and impossibly voluptuous curves.

"Shouldn't we clean up first," Phil said.

By we he meant Nÿte. She looked like she'd taken a shower of gore in an abattoir.

"And waste all this glorious blood," Nÿte said. She ran a finger across her blood-soaked breasts, put it between her full lips and sucked. Her eyelids fluttered as she savoured the taste.

Phil whitened and felt a little queasy. Not long ago that had been inside Joey Chalk.

Nÿte put a finger to her lips.

"Hmm, I can see you'll need a little extra help," she said.

She formed a steeple with her hands as if praying.

"Enhalarat mod tellani'nsara."

Living shadows detached from the walls and enfolded Phil's arms. He felt like he'd been sandwiched between two soft nubile forms. Sensuous red lips coalesced out of the darkness and whispered lewd suggestions into his ears. Again he couldn't make out the words, but they flipped a primal switch in his brain. Pornographic imagery—plump lips wrapped around erect cocks—crept unbidden into his thoughts. Once again he felt the pressure of soft sticky cushions against his back. Tension fled his muscles and he sank back into the warm shadow. Sticky black tendrils pulled aside his robes. His penis, stoked by the lascivious whispers permeating his ears, rose to full erection. A thicker tendril, more a pipe-like extrusion, emerged from the pool of shadow between his legs. A vivid red orifice—a cross between a woman's sensual mouth and neatly tended vagina—opened at the tip. The tube curled back as if it intended to engulf Phil's erection.

Nÿte wagged a finger. The mouths blowing warm air and lewd suggestions into Phil's ears sighed their disappointment as the tube sank back into the black morass.

Nÿte stepped up close to him. He felt the heat pouring from her body. She leant close and sniffed his neck and behind his ears.

"As much as I enjoy the fear scent you give off, the spilled blood of others should not be something to be afraid of." She caressed Phil's side, leaving behind a wet smear of blood.

It wasn't the blood that terrified Phil but how it had got there. Not that he had a chance to say that as Nÿte put her hands behind his head and pulled him down into her substantial cleavage. She jiggled her chest and the sensation of her heavy boobs pressing and rubbing against his face was a good one. While she shook her breasts in his face, she reached down and wrapped a slick hand around his erection and pumped up and down. Also a good sensation.

The sticky feel of coagulated blood against his cheeks, the coppery tang of the blood that had pooled between her breasts, the knowledge the lubricant making her hand feel so slick and silky against his cock was even more blood—not so good sensations.

It didn't matter. Nÿte was a succubus. Her touch, her breath, her smell, her heat, her very presence was enough to overwhelm mere revulsion. As her hand pumped his erection and his arousal grew, he started to turn into rather than away from her blood-covered boobs. A primal instinct took over him and he found himself licking and sucking on her erect nipple without caring what covered it, or what triggered that salty taste on his tongue.

"Good, good," Nÿte purred. Her hand caressed the back of his head. "A wielder of daemons should not be squeamish."

She stepped back, placed a hand on his chest and pushed. Phil fell backwards. It should have been against the wall, but that wasn't there anymore and he tumbled into darkness as black as pitch. His fall was broken by what felt like large sticky cushions. Female figures rose up out of the dark pool surrounding him. His arms were taken and his hands clamped between warm female bosoms. Heads surfaced in the impenetrable mire and whispered obscene suggestions to him. A hand and arm, as black as though it had been dipped in crude oil, reached over and playfully tweaked his nipple.

Nÿte removed her remaining clothes and joined him on top of the malleable surface. As she straddled him he looked up into her black eyes and saw a perfect avatar of feral lust. The blood liberally splattered all over her pale flesh only added to her barbaric beauty. She reached behind her head and undid her austere ponytail. Her long black hair fell free and hung over Phil like a curtain.

The effect was rather spoilt when a bloodied eyeball slid off her hair and bounced off Phil's chest.

That was Joey Chalk's eyeball, Phil realised. Not so long ago it had been safely housed within the other student's skull. Queasiness clawed at his stomach.

Nÿte rolled her eyes in disapproval. "This is supposed to be a celebration of triumph," she said.

She got his attention back by wrapping a hand around his cock and squeezing. She lowered her body until her breasts were pressed against his crotch. She moved up his body, sliding his erection through the soft groove of her cleavage while using her soft breasts to smear blood and gore up Phil's naked torso. She was boiling hot and he felt her heat as she pressed her flesh against his. He shivered with arousal as his cock slid back and forth between the twin pillows of her breasts. It didn't take long for her body-to-body massage to leave him just as plastered in spilt blood as her. This should have revolted him, but her heat, her aura and the lewd whispers of the shadow women overrode everything.

Nÿte slid up until her face was level with his. Her bright black eyes stared right into his as she lowered her head and crushed her soft lips against his. The kiss was like breathing in a hot desert wind laden with exotic scents.

She ended it and stared into his eyes. "This is the old way," she said. "A succubus and her warlock, fucking while covered in the blood of their freshly slain enemies."

Chalk hadn't been an enemy, a small voice whined at the back of Phil's skull. He'd been a friend. Okay, maybe not a friend, but he'd still been a fellow student at Wargsnouts.

Not anymore. Phil and Rosa were covered in his remains.

Nÿte sat up in his lap and that whining voice at the back of his skull receded further into the distance. The succubus placed his erection flat against her mons and moved up and down until Phil was shivering with the need to enter her. She didn't tease him for long. She rose higher, pushed his cock down between the naked folds of her sex and sat down. Her labia fluffed out as she sank down on Phil's erection and drew him all the way up inside her.

Phil knew from experience Nÿte had much more control over her vagina than a human woman. Sometimes it was a place of pain and torture as Nÿte used the muscular walls of her sex to crush and wrench any penis unfortunate to be inside her. Other times it was a place of pleasure and bliss as she let the walls of her sex melt and enfold a penis in waves of soft smothering flesh. This time it was a place of extravagant pleasure.

Nÿte spread her inky black wings and rose up and down on Phil. Her black eyes shone and she pouted full black lips as she rode him. The round globes of her breasts swayed back and forth with the motions of her body. She varied both the speed and direction of her thrusts. Sometimes she bounced up and down, with the round cushions of her ass slapping against his crotch with every down stroke. After a few minutes of that she switched to lateral movements and rolled her pelvis against him. Inside, in contrast to the violence of her movements, the soft walls of her pussy tenderly stroked up and down his erection.

More female heads, sighing in pleasure, rose up out of the black morass of shadow beneath him. Deft tongues tickled his nipples, soft lips whispered taboo and lascivious secrets into his ears, and hot mouths wrapped around his toes and sucked. The soft mass of darkness moved beneath him, moved with him. An unseen tongue tickled up and down his perineum and lapped at the underside of his balls.

"Mmm good, novice, good," Nÿte murmured. "Hold it in."

She clutched her blood-soaked breasts and found an easy rhythm. Her soft pussy squeezed and sucked on his swollen cock. Phil no longer registered the sight or smell of the blood that covered them.

"Good good," Nÿte said.

She gradually built up to a climax while Phil struggled to keep his at bay.

"And come," she said.

She folded her body over Phil. Her hands rubbed up his sides and along his arms. Her large breasts pressed against his chest. His cock was drawn all the way inside her and wrapped in layer after layer of luxuriously soft flesh. Her vagina contracted against him and sucked him over the edge with gentle rhythmic squeezes.

Phil did as he was told. Nÿte's luscious pussy left little choice in the matter. A euphoric feeling of release overcame him as his cock swelled and expelled a thick wad of semen into her.

Nÿte relaxed on top of him.

"It is good to taste the primal delights of triu—"

She paused. Puzzlement crossed her face as she looked down at Phil. She shifted position on top of him. The soft folds within her vagina enveloped his cock as if giving him a thorough tasting. When that failed to give her the answers she required, she sat back up and clasped his sides tightly with her thighs. His penis was still inside her and she showed no inclination of releasing it.

Phil's blissful euphoria gave away to unease. Her poise had changed, become colder.

Nÿte extended her black wings. Her soft vagina contracted around his cock and took him back to full hardness within a few short gasps. Her black eyes glowed and a faint purple nimbus outlined her form.

... and him.

The black collar around her throat started emitting blue sparks. Phil's unease grew.

He was enveloped by a sensation of tingly heat that made his balls itch. Nÿte lightly ran her nails down his sides, a tickling sensation that made him think she was gathering his energy and dragging it down to his balls. He felt a weird—but not unpleasant—trickling sensation wherever the intimate skin of his cock came into contact with the intimate skin of her vagina.

Was she draining him?

Nÿte saw his disquiet and motioned to the shadow-girls that had emerged from the black morass he was lying on. Lying on became lying in as the sticky pool of darkness drew him deeper into its cloying grip. His hands and feet were bound with elastic bands of shadows. The shadow-girls giggled as they gagged him with the same.

Nÿte puffed her black lips out in a sexy pout. She wiggled her hips and sank all the way down on Phil. His fully erect cock was drawn up inside her until the swollen head came up against a soft nub of tissue. It gave and then Phil's glans was enveloped in moist and sinfully pliant flesh.

No, Phil thought. The blood. His fear. She'd lost control. And he could do nothing about it. His limbs were bound, his mouth gagged.

The pale curves of Nÿte's boobs, still stained with blood, swelled as she inhaled. It wasn't just air she inhaled. The sinful orifice buried deep within her took hold of Phil and sucked.

And he no longer cared.

About anything.

His body bucked as he orgasmed. The ecstatic eruption of release felt so good it washed all his fear away. He squirmed beneath her, lost helplessly to pleasure as that weird trickling sensation intensified to a flood.

For a moment Phil felt as though he was emptying his totality into her, then Nÿte relaxed her vagina and the flow stopped. He fell back onto the soft mass of living shadow. Dear fuck, that had been intense, he thought as he struggled to pick up the scrambled remnants of his thoughts.

In contrast Nÿte was perfectly composed and thoughtful.

"As I thought, the Qištu," she mused. "That silly girl."

She frowned. She brought the fingers of her left hand together and held them straight like a dagger. For one terrifying moment Phil thought she was about to drive her sharp claws into his unprotected throat. Or even into his heart. Then she changed her mind and brought her left arm back to her side.

"No," she said. "An injustice was corrected. It was her decision. It's not my place to judge."

Nÿte changed her poise again, shedding the coldness. She smiled at him and tenderly stroked his cheek. She motioned to the shadow-girls and they released him. Once again he felt like he was lying on a pile of soft cushions rather than lying in a tar pit.

"My apologies," she said. "I hadn't intended for it to get that intense. Blood and slaying has always brought out the wildness in my heart."

Nÿte was lying. Phil could see it clearly. In fact he was surprised at how terrible Nÿte was at lying, given that succubi were supposed to be masters of deceitful flattery. Despite knowing she was clearly lying, he thought it best not to push the matter further. The last person to do that was currently splattered all over the both of them.

"I thought you'd lost control and were going to suck out my soul," Phil said, choosing to go along with Nÿte's story. "These primal celebrations of bloody victory seem a little hazardous to the warlock."

Nÿte smiled. "A little danger enhances the eroticism."

She stood up, took his hand and helped him stand up out of the darkness.

"I imagine you'll want to go and search for the other students," Nÿte said.

"Should we go and get cleaned up fir..." Phil tailed off. The lurid splatters of blood and gore covering Nÿte's body were fading away. The fluids were being absorbed into her skin. By the time she'd tied her long black hair up in a ponytail the stains had all faded away. "Uh, nothing," Phil said.

He still looked and smelt like he'd been rolling around in an abattoir.

"I wanted to confirm something," Nÿte said as they were walking back up the steps that led out of the tunnels. "That's the answer to the question you wanted to ask but were too afraid to," she added.

She still hadn't answered it fully, but Phil thought it safer not to push the matter.

"I would avoid having sex with Rosa for a while," Nÿte said. "If she learns the same thing as I have she'll likely incinerate you."

* * * *

Darvill encountered Rosa in a large bedchamber.

He'd been following the signal he hoped led to Gary Dever. This had led him to a large room upholstered in what appeared to be crimson latex. The room was a strange hybrid of dungeon and boudoir. There were chains hanging from the walls. Gothic torch brackets wrought from black metal studded the walls at regular intervals. In one corner was an X-shaped wooden cross. In the other corner—a dog cage. On the other side of the room was a big round bed. The sheets were red and shiny like the walls.

Rosa lounged by the exit on a plush couch. She wore a latex bra that was the same shade of red as the walls and emphasised her large breasts. At her waist she wore a skirt of the same material that was so short it might have been better classified as a belt. Her elbow-length gloves and thigh-high boots covered more flesh than the rest of her outfit. She looked incredibly sexy, but that was hardly surprising given she was a succubus.

Darvill remembered Rosa. In her other form of a black-haired dominatrix she'd drained John Brennan to death right in front of the whole class.

No, Darvill didn't think that had been her.

He didn't think the succubus with the green hair and the one that wore the fetish nurse outfit were the same daemon either.

This was a problem. If true it meant they had four, maybe more, succubi to worry about rather than two.

He watched Rosa warily. He remembered when Rowling had surprised them by introducing her and Verdé as though they were his friends. She hadn't looked that powerful of a daemon.

"Wouldn't you like to come over her and lie next to me?" Rosa asked, her voice all sweetness and enticing nectar.

He felt the force of her allure envelop him and press up against his wards. This wasn't even a proper charm; it was just the pull of her natural erotic appeal.

Darvill revised his estimate of her power.

He was in real trouble here, or should be. He'd got a sense of her raw power and realised he'd grossly underestimated it. If Rosa wanted to focus all of her supernaturally-enhanced seduction on him there was little chance he'd leave this room with his soul. She hadn't. For now she was content to lounge on her couch like a glamour-puss porn starlet.

Darvill looked around the room. He glanced at the massive red bed that took up most of the far corner. His being here was no accident. The room—and Rosa—had been deliberately placed in his path. Scripted.

"You're here to tempt me," he said.

Rosa tilted her head seductively. "Of course," she said.

"Sex doesn't interest me all that much," Darvill said. "It's enjoyable and I'm sure your talents are considerable, but it's never been more than a pleasant distraction for me. My desires lie elsewhere."

Rosa's smile grew wider. She got up out of the couch.

"Who said I was going to tempt you with sex."

She held her hands out at her side. Flames flickered and grew out of her upturned palms. The fire danced up her arms until she was surrounded in a crackling nimbus of spectral flame. She gave a flick of each wrist and the flames jumped to the torch brackets on the walls. The sparks hopped from bracket to bracket, lighting each as though it had been doused in petrol, until Darvill was surrounded by burning torches.

"Power is your desire," Rosa said. "Your ambition is to seek, learn and harness the power available to only the most skilled and experienced of warlocks. I can aid you. I can give you the power you've always dreamed of. We're already teaching your fellow student. I see greater hunger in your eyes. Maybe you'll become even stronger."

That did interest Darvill.