Incubus Pleasures

You savour her shivers.

Your ruinous touch bringing her to shuddering orgasm with the merest traces of your fingertips across her sensitive labia major. The way her body shifts and shivers as she tries her level best to ride out the storm which your touch induces, as you smile in decisive comprehension of your next motion.

The bitch doesn’t quite understand yet that her level is simply too low to compete with even your slightest caress.

Again her eyes widen in blossoming comprehension, your touch bringing her to shivering climax once more, and then again, and again, and again. Her body wracked with orgasmic bliss which seems to do nothing but further heighten her ever growing desire. You can feel it as she goes wild beneath your fingertips once more, lip gripped tight between teeth least she squeal out with the desire which became harder and harder to contain with every caress.

“Remember our bet, sweet thing.” Well she did have quite the sweet thing. “If you cry out at all, you lose.”

She didn’t have much to say it seemed, as she strained breathlessly against herself to keep from simply screaming out in untamed ecstasy.

You smile gently though your finger works with reverent devotion to her screams.

Her mind cracks more with every trace as you pour the venom of your being into the act of fingering her in the middle of the library, her red face beautiful to behold.

You’d met her all that evening.

Poor grade or not, she was beautifully responsive and served a sweet distraction until the real hunt could be afoot.

A few words, a scent, a touch at the right time, in the right place and she’d crumbled like putty in your hand. A few more strokes and here she was, betting her life that she could resist as you tested her resolve; allowing her to seal her own damnation as you traced the contract against her skin.

Her taciturn determination under the tingle of your touch was simply endearing as you worked her flesh into a frenzy of desire, whipping her need for resolution, and control into a dark spiral.

She promised you ‘anything’ if you could make her scream, you promised her more if she managed not to.

You did so love a lopsided bargain.

Your fingers stirred the pot once more, leaving phantoms of your caress where they would most enhance and amplify your assault. Already her eyes glazed over with the molten need of a woman so fucked that she couldn’t tell what was going on around her.

And then she screamed.

And it was over, her body pulled tight as from the place of our contract her bondage bloomed, ahh... that moment of connection when her mind and your own became as one, when you could learn her secrets as if they were your own, command her will as if it were your own; that moment of perfect and absolute control.

The spreading tattoo across her skin told the tale of just how fucked she’d become.

That is to anyone who could read proper high demonic.

Still you were an entrepreneur, not just some low breed demon looking for a quick snack. You’d long learned it was more profitable to you to stretch out the experience and train the girls you acquired, set them up back home and charge other less fortunate demons for the privilege of touching real human flesh.

Still you continue to finger her, now in enforced silence. Her mind commands its body to express the torments under which you lavish her sweet little hole, her body locked to a forced relaxation, even as she can do nothing more that begin to go mad with the torments of lust which run through her body uninhibited.

A little training to the new governing spell which allowed you close or automated command, you would send her down to a hell of pleasure soon, to your collection place where she’d be rented and sold to the highest bidders.

Not that anyone would bid particularly high for this one, a mere peasant, and a weak willed one too.

It hadn’t been anything even remotely like a challenge. Not like some of the ones you’d been sent after before, women and men of power and frightening mental acuity. Beasts of legendary proportion, and anything and everything a devil’s heart could desire.

If the client wanted it, you would procure it. And you would prosper.

Finally you’d had enough, pulling your hand out from between her sodden lips and the forcing your fingers between other lips, forcing her to suck them clean.

With a dismissive wave you send her away, the dark tribal patterns formed across her skin dancing in their convenient way, to tap her own meager mana reserves and send her spirally though the void to her new life of pleasure beyond mortal ken. Or she’d die of the ethereal shock on the way there, rare but with these lesser specimens, a possibility.

Not that it concerned you much; she was less than prime merchandise after all.

Still now that you’d stretched your fingers a bit you supposed it was time that you seek out your real prey...




Sister Beryliss, of the Borgonian Battle Nuns. They believe in life, faithful service... and thick plate armour with which they battle dragons.

The heiress Annita Almater, and her mother the widowed Countess Bliana du Almater. They have all the best securities that Money can buy. And what money can’t buy, sex appeal has managed.

Oddette. a simple sorceress it seems, until you look at the body count which she's blazed across three continents, in all honesty you aren’t surprised by the fact that this client was a Violence demon of some renown... you are however surprised by the fact that he's also renown to have a certain distaste for the opposing gender...