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Incubus Ch. 01

By: ktmccoll



Britt awoke in the morning, muzzy-headed from last night's wine and more than a little disquieted by the dim recollection of a strange dream. Her sheets were a twisted mess and damp from sweat and something she was reluctant to investigate. An inexplicable post-coital funk hung in the air. She found herself naked and her nightie lay in a heap in the corner. She never slept naked. Must have been some dream, she thought.

She stood gingerly. Her head pounded dully and several nameless muscles in her abdomen and legs ached. 

She padded to the bathroom and left the light off, not wanting to set off what was now only a low grade hangover. 

What did I do to myself? she wondered. Her nether regions were chafed and sore, despite having been kept far from her boyfriend's hopeful overtures and groping fingers. Britt had begged off last night, stubbornly declining to go to Mike's place and steadfastly refusing to issue the expected reciprocal invitation. She was tired, perhaps a more than a little drunk, and not interested in yet another clumsy and inadvertent quickie that left him apologetic and prematurely wrung out and her wondering if that was all there was.

She stood before the mirror. Weak morning light trickled into the bathroom from between the slats of the venetian blind. A stray beam glinted off something brilliant and metallic at the center of her right breast. She'd left her glasses on the nightstand and had to lean forward and squint. Her head pounded.

It was a nipple ring.

She stared dumbly at its reflection. As though expecting a different result, she looked down.

Her nipple looked otherwise normal, if a little distended by the thick gauge of metal that ran through it. Gold, she noted absently. There was no sign of a wound and no apparent tenderness. It was as though the ring had been there forever, though it hadn't been there when she had gone to bed the night before. Of that she was sure.

She fingered the ring. It was thick and heavy and completely round. She could discern a design etched lightly on its surface. There were no ends, so she could not make out how the ring would have been inserted. Or, for that matter, how to get it off. She tugged at it gently to ensure that the nipple was indeed pierced. It was. 

She lifted her breast in a cupped hand and squinted a little more. There. She could see it now. The ring was adorned with two little nubs. They looked something like horns.

At that moment, the dream that was suddenly more that a dream came rushing back to her.

"Oh God," she whispered, and sat heavily on the edge of the bathtub.

She woke in the dark to an immense weight pressing onto her, just below her breasts. She'd been dreaming of the witticisms she'd failed to articulate in time at the party. The clever retorts. The snappy ripostes. She knew she was beautiful and smart, but in her dream she was beautiful and smart and witty.

It was a moan that woke her. Hers, she guessed. The weight felt like it would crush her ribcage. It was difficult to breathe. 

She opened one eye.

"It's about time."

There was what appeared to be a half-naked man straddling her, barely discernible in the streetlight that filtered feebly through the blinds.

"Wake up, princess." The voice was deep and mellifluous, like Barry White's.

She opened the other eye.

"That's better."

She thought, This had better be a dream...

"This is no dream, princess."

If this was no dream -- and it didn't feel like she was sleeping any more -- then there really was a half-naked man with a Barry White voice sitting on her. 

She opened her mouth to scream and a large hand covered her mouth and pressed her head into the pillow.

"You don't want to do that."

She did want to do that. Scream like a banshee. Bite his hand. Fight tooth and nail, for there was no good reason for the presence of a stranger in her bedroom in the middle of the night.

"I'm not going to rape you, if that's what you're afraid of," said the figure. "It would be unseemly."

Unseemly? thought Britt. Who but old movie stars talk like that?

"Besides, incubi don't do that sort of thing. We don't need to."

If a large madman hadn't been sitting on her in a dark room, if she hadn't been completely naked (whatever happened to my nightie? she wondered), and if she hadn't been inexplicably aroused, she might have laughed. 

As it was, she again opened her mouth to scream, with the same result as before.

"Before you go making a racket that will irritate me and embarrass you when you wake up your neighbors for no good reason, let me tell you something. You summoned me."

This time, Britt did laugh. A bitter, muffled snort. 

The incubus lifted his hand.

"No screaming?"

Britt shook her head.

The incubus, if that's what he was, removed his hand entirely and allowed his fingertips to brush lightly against her breast, leaving a tingling wake that caused goose pimples to rise and her nipple to harden.

Her breath caught. I'm still drunk, she thought. Perhaps I'm hallucinating. A sober woman would be afraid. A sober woman would be fighting. A sober woman would not be focussed on a tingling nipple.

Perhaps if she kept him talking, he wouldn't hurt her. "I didn't summon you," she said.

The incubus smiled. "Not in so many words. But you did fall asleep thinking of how unsatisfied you are with Mike. Of his inadequacy. Of how you deserve better. Of how desperately hungry you are."

How did he know of Mike? Was this some kind of joke? A test? Was Mike perhaps behind this?

A surge of anger sobered her a little.

The incubus lifted himself slightly, allowing Britt to completely fill her lungs. Now if she had to scream, she'd be able to make a real go of it. When he lowered himself again, something fell with a fleshy slap in the cleft between her breasts. It was his penis. Britt could feel its weight and an odd prickling coolness where it lay.

Mike had to be behind this. Perhaps he was upset at her. If he thought he was going to frighten her, have a laugh at her expense, he had another thing coming. 

Without thinking, she traced the length of his penis with her fingernail. "That's it? You must be a starter-demon, then." 

She smiled to herself. Finally, something witty, if several hours too late and wholly inappropriate, given what her company purported to be.

The incubus laughed, a deep-throated and unearthly rumble. "You're something else."

The statement appeared to trigger something, for the incubus fell silent and immobile for several moments. Abruptly, he bent over and smelled her. Her hair, her neck, her breath. He sat up again and an orange flame bloomed from the palm of his hand. It flickered coldly in unseen air currents.

The apparition that greeted Britt took her breath away. The incubus had dark, wavy hair with the first flecks of grey at the temples. A pair of short horns glinting like polished ebony from his skull, almost lost amid his locks. His face consisted of hard planes and firm angles, but was nonetheless handsome in a weathered, rugged way. Piercing blue eyes studied her. If the flame burned his hand, his eyes betrayed nothing.

Her gaze lowered to the broad shoulders and chest, the corded muscles of the arms, and horizontal bands of his lean abdomen. Peering lower, her eyes finally lit on the area between her breasts where his manhood nestled, large, blue-veined, and emanating an unearthly cold. Britt shivered.

At the same time, the incubus studied her. Whereas Britt's eyes roved shamelessly over his body, his gaze never left her eyes. He studied her intently. When their eyes finally locked, she felt both exposed penetrated, a violation surely more personal than any rape.

"You are something else," he said again. This time, no humor tempered the statement. He was clearly perplexed.

The flame extinguished as quickly as it had appeared. They were plunged once again into semi-darkness.

"What does that mean? 'Something else'?" asked Britt, her voice quavering. This was obviously no joke, no test. 

"I won't do what you summoned me for. But perhaps..."

Britt felt disappointed despite her lack of understanding.

In a fluid motion, the incubus rose and repositioned himself between her legs. Deft fingers traced a line down from her creamy breasts to the well of her abdomen, periodically looping off as though performing some erotic calligraphy. 

The electricity of the sensation stilled Britt's tongue and calmed her agitated mind.

The touch divided at the rise of her pubic bone and continued down the outside of her long and toned legs. At the ankles, his fingers crossed to the insides of her legs, ascending deliberately past the calves to the tender flesh of her inner thighs. Britt squirmed.

The incubus adjusted himself once more. Britt could feel his hair of his head brushing the insides of her thighs. With the tip of his tongue, feather-light but hot, he explored the folds of her labia. She gasped. 

He gently pressed the flesh of her labia between his lips, pulling gently, running his tongue back and forth across the tender surface. Placing his hands beneath her thighs, he lifted her legs slightly and thrust his tongue deeply into her, more deeply than she would have thought possible, exploring and tasting, unleashing sensations previously only dreamed about. He slowly extracted his tongue and drew it up to tease the clitoris out of its nest.

With his tongue pressing the pink pearl of her clitoris, he buried a finger within her folds, gently hooking it and pressing upward. He then moved his tongue in a languorous circle, and the finger within mirrored its path. 

Britt's breathing quickened and a warm, electric glow emanated from the area, quickly suffusing her entire being and banishing any notion of protest.

He inserted a second finger, collecting the natural lubrication that now flowed. Finger anointed, he removed it and pressed it against her anus. Britt's breath caught. Surprise, perhaps. He stopped, listened, but Britt's breathing resumed its previous ragged rhythm. 

While his tongue toyed with the clitoris, one finger explored the inner geography of her glistening cunt and another slipped shallowly in and out of her ass. Britt's hands swept over incubus's head. Trembling fingers grasped the two nubs of horn. She used them to pull him savagely into her.

His rhythm quickened by patient degrees, matched by the rate of her breathing.

His tongue and fingers teased and cajoled the flesh, denying it when it would surrender too soon, enflaming it when the heat ebbed. 

Unable to resist any longer, Britt erupted, back arching, bearing down hard on his hand, forcing his fingers deep into her cunt and ass. She gave a strangled cry and spread her legs wide, affording him a better taste of that which he had worked hard to release.

She was not quickly spent. Her release intensified and crashed anew under his attention. The subtlest flick of the tongue or pressure of his fingers would launch a new, previously uncharted crescendo.

"Please stop," she whimpered.

When it appeared that Britt was spent, he violently pushed her legs to her chest, exposing the glistening folds of her cunt, engorged with blood and electric with sensation. He hungrily thrust his tongue into her slick warmth, savoring Britt's flavor. Her core thrilled.

They lay like that until Britt's tremors ceased.

"That was unbelievable," she whispered huskily. "You are unbelievable." She reached for his cock.

He gently pushed her hand away. "As much as I would love to, I won't."

Not having him was not an option. Britt hungered. 

"Not tonight," he continued. "But you will allow me something."

"What," she whispered.

Without a word, he lowered his head to her right breast and drew her nipple into his mouth. Britt moaned. She felt a slight pressure and then indescribable pain.

Then she remembered no more. 

Britt opened her eyes again and gazed at the ring. It hadn't been a dream. Her heart fluttered in her chest, ensnared by both fear and longing. An incubus, it seemed, had claimed her.

Incubus Ch. 01



He ran swiftly through the night. Branches whipped across him as he bore on. He didn't care where he was going, as long as he could continue to feel free. He smelled it before he could see, could rationalize what the scent could be. Cautiously, he slowed his run but lingered in the woods. He looked out into the wide expanse and scanned for the source of his attraction. 

His keen eyes sought their mark. Spying a run down cottage that sat at the opposite edge he tried to adjust his position so he could see into the lighted room. Though it was no where near morning, of this, he was absolutely sure, the room was flooded in light. Under the cover of night, he strode quickly toward his target.

Inside the room, Amy tried to resist. But her traitorous body was determined to give her away. She sat in her makeshift pajamas- a large ratty tee-shirt and white cotton panties in the middle of the room in front of her bed on the floor. Her hands were tied together and bound behind her. Her legs, after some effort, were spread apart and tied to the legs of the bed. Ashamed, she looked away from her tormentor. Though this has happened before...tonight was the night, he told her; the night that he intended to bury himself in her. Her tear stained eyes wandered to the details of the wall. Desperately, she traced the imperfect details of the wall up to where the edge touched the ceiling to distract herself. Her tormentor ran his grubby, greedy hands over her smooth legs stopping at her thighs to make the journey back down to her ankles. He stopped for a moment to take in her reaction. She was breathing heavily- but whether it was from arousal or fear, he would have to continue to find out. He leaned down and ran his cheek down the same path his fingers had just explored. His eyes watching her face steadily, he planted kisses starting from her ankles. She tried, unsuccessfully, to close her legs. He moved up her inner legs, kneeling on all fours as he tried to pace himself. He was already so noticeably hard for her that it was a wonder he could control himself at all. He groped, kissed and kneaded her soft flesh as he worked his way closer and closer to her core. She writhed unwillingly beneath his touch. 

Sensing his victory, he spoke, "Amy, you want this. It will make you a woman. It's better you experience this with me than some untried boy who will just use you." Amy didn't answer and he was too distracted to care what she was feeling. He licked his lips as his hand cupped her through the thin fabric of her underwear, finding her moisture. Tears continue to run from the edges of her eyes. She noted each indentation of the wood paneling and the way the wood aged at the edges. A movement on the other side of the window caught her temporarily off guard. She whipped her head around to the other window hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was. She looked out for what seemed like an eternity and realized that it must have just been her imagination playing tricks on her again. 

That has happened a lot lately, ever since these late night encounters started. Amy was on the couch in the living room with her boyfriend, Drew, last week when they started getting frisky. They were so hot for each other they didn't realize her step-dad had come home and was standing ominously in the doorway watching their progression. His face turned bright red and indignant as he watched Drew snake his hand around his daughter and draw her into his lap. Still clinging to his lips, Amy didn't notice her step-dad looking directly at her. She rocked furiously up and down in Drew's lap. Her gyrating motions with their clothes on were having some serious affects on Drew. With both his hands on either side of her hips, Drew slowed her rubbing. 

"Amy, I want you." Drew's voice was husky from disuse. Her forehead rested against his as she rubbed her clit on his covered cock. She rubbed his nose with hers and feathered his lips with hers. Catching his bottom lip, she nipped him and responded to his declaration by pulling her shirt over her head. Not one to bother with a bra, Amy's breasts fell free.

"Oh... you are so beautiful Amy" Drew breathed dreamily as he lowered his mouth to suckle on her rosebud nipples. As he took one into his mouth, Amy threw her head back and scream. She pushed wildly at Drew. Alarmed, his eyes flashed opened and he gave her a bewildered look. Amy was clutching her shirt to her breasts and was looking ghastly over Drew's shoulder. Taking the clue, Drew looked over his shoulders and straight into the face of Amy's very angry step-dad. Swallowing hard, Drew turned back to Amy, bright red. "I better go." Her eyes pleaded with him to stay, afraid of her step-dad's wrath.

"Yes, I think you had better leave. I really hope you enjoyed yourself, because it's not going to happen again. Do I make myself clear? If I ever see you here, I will shoot you myself." The menacing glare he gave the pair silenced all thoughts of argument. He stood in the doorway still, not bothering to move aside for Drew as he left. He didn't turn to look when Drew closed the door shut behind him on his way out. His eyes were still intently on his daughter, who, as Drew departed, pulled her shirt back on. She still kneeled as she was before, facing the back of the sofa, looking at her step-dad. She waited and he still said nothing. Finally, he spoke, "Has that ever happened before? Here? Is this what you two do when I'm not home?" His voice didn't sound angry any more. The anger was gone, replaced with something more dark and menacing. His questioning was deliberate, Amy didn't answer, not realizing if she should. Moments passed, Amy stared back at him, not knowing what he was thinking. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between them and hit her with a slap so hard he sent her hurling to the rug. Crying out loud, Amy tried to scramble away, but her step-dad was too quick. He rounded the couch and was gripping her wrist tightly. He dragged and pulled her up the stairs and into her room. He kicked her bedroom door shut, more out of habit than necessity and pushed her effortlessly on to the bed. Amy sprawled on the bed, sobbing, afraid of her punishment. Her step-dad silently removed his belt from his pants and walked towards her.

"Dad! NO...please!!" Amy begged as he turned her over on her stomach and grabbed the elastic bands of both her sweats and panties and pulled both off in one smooth fluid motion. But the pain she was waiting for never came. He didn't intend on whipping her. He gathered her hands together and bound them with the belt tightly. When he tugged on it and was satisfied with his work, he turned her over and propped her up on her pillows. Amy squeezed her legs together, shocked at what he was doing. He sat on the bed in front of her, edging her legs apart. Though she tried to resist, he was too strong. He spread her open to him and couldn't resist smacking his lips in anticipation of tasting her young cunt juice. 

"Dad! NO...please stop!" Her voice broke in embarrassment of her exposed state. 

Her step-dad looked at her for a long while before he answered. "It didn't seem like you wanted it to stop when you guys were going at it downstairs. It only seems fair that since I interrupted what you guys started that I should finish it. You are quite a little slut when I'm not around aren't you?" He smiled as he ran a finger through her cunt finding her dripping wetness. "Damn, you are really horny, you know that, baby?" Chuckling to himself, he continued to caress her there. His hands deftly rubbed her nub, coaxing it out of hiding. As soon as it peeked out at him, he couldn't help himself and lowered his lips to suck on its swollen head. Amy moaned. His lips closed around it, creating immense suction that had Amy bucking on her step-dad's mouth. His tongue rubbed insistently on it, causing her to shudder and twist side to side. "Dad, stop...dad." Her words were broken, her brained muddled by the sensation between her legs. He lay between her spread legs, he was rubbing her with his fingers now, so his mouth was free to answer her.

"Honey, you were going to have sex anyway. I saw you. So it seems only fair that I give you that release."

"Please...stop, this is wrong. You can't do this." Amy tried to squirm away from his touch, but he held her prisoner.

Softly, he asked her. "When?" 

Confused, Amy didn't know what he was asking or how she could answer. "When...?"

"When did you first have sex?" His eyes were on hers, ensuring that she wouldn't be lying to him. 

"I've never had. Dad stop that..." But even as those words broke from her, he was teasing the small entrance, and she arched instinctively to allow entry.

But he didn't enter. Even at her urging, he was completely mesmerized by her answer. "So, you have never had sex with Drew? Or you have never had sex before? At all?" The last words were said separately. He slowed his motions and enunciated each word, emphasizing their meaning...testing the possibility. 

"Dad. I'm a virgin. I have never had sex before. I swear!" Her eyes grew wide with fear as his fingertip, positioned in front of her tight cunt started to worm its way in. She tried to move away, but her motions guided it further in. Amy and he both groaned as he sank to his knuckle, her juices lubricating his invasion.

"God, Amy, you are so tight." He heard his own voice as he said the words as realization hit him like a ton of bricks. God. She really must be a virgin. Could she be lying to him? What reason would she have...If her and Drew had been having sex, would she still be so tight? He shook his head, trying to think. He knew he couldn't stop. He had been watching Amy for years and though he was ashamed, he couldn't help noticing how much his stepdaughter was beginning to look like his hot young wife. His member jerked at the memory. He decided and turned his attentions back to the task at hand. 

"Amy, since I can't decide if I believe you or not, I will not go any further than this today." Her eyes snapped to his face and her expression closed. He repeated the word for her benefit, "Today." He watched as she took in his intent. He gave an apologetic smile as he continued, "It won't be now Amy, because I haven't decided if that would be necessary, but know that it will happen. Someday very soon. I will have you; I must have you." As he said this, the finger that had been stilled in her love canal started to piston in and out vigorously. Amy cried out in ecstasy. Through barely opened eyes, she saw that he was unzipping his jeans so he could release his cock from its restrictive clothing. 

Oh no, Amy thought, he can't...he wouldn't. Her fears subsided as she realized that he only wanted to release some pressure and the jeans were probably too tight and hard for comfort. She felt something stirring deep in her belly. It was warm and coiling tightly.

"Let it go Amy...relax." Her step-dad instructed her as he continued to move his finger inside her. He had inserted another finger and was rubbing her insides deliciously. He stopped momentarily so that he could rub his entire palm on her mound. 

Through heavily lidded eyes, Amy was frustrated. Why had he stopped? Why NOW? God. What am I thinking? This is wrong...so wrong. Her thoughts quickly faded as he inserted two fingers in her again. Starting slowly, he allowed the two new fingers to coat with her moisture before he started pumping. She noticed with smug satisfaction that he had taken his other hand, saturated with her cream and was now rubbing furiously up and down his shaft. His face reddened and his forehead beaded with sweat. Amy couldn't keep her eyes open as she felt that coiling again, stronger than last time. A moan escaped her lips, "So good..."

He smiled at that and leaned in to suck on her clit. This was too much for Amy. She screamed aloud as her orgasm hit her, her pussy clenched tightly around his fingers and the sensation was too much for her step-dad as well. He couldn't control himself anymore and came strongly in his hands. Minutes passed as both their breathing slowed and he slowly slipped his fingers out of her clutching cunt.

"Baby, you are exquisite," he said, looking her over. A pink rose was spreading on her body, and her nipples were puckered and straining against the fabric of her teeshirt. Unable to move, Amy didn't resist when he pushed up her shirt and took one nipple in his mouth. He cupped the other breast, rubbing lightly. Abruptly he stopped and straightened out his own clothes and released her from his belt. 

"You will want to rest, Amy. There will be other lessons like this. Obviously, you are not to breathe a word of this to your mom. If you dare to see what happens, try me." His anger from before resurfaced, and Amy was instantly afraid of what he might to do her later. Holding her legs apart, he lowered his head to her cunt and licked the entire length before releasing her and striding out of her room, shutting the door firmly behind him.



Incubus Ch. 01



Lilly

Getting ahold of the cow blood had been the trickiest part of the ritual thus far. It wasn't like you could just walk into the store and pick up a gallon. No, if you wanted cow blood, you had to ask for it special, and then everyone wanted to know why. And "I want to summon a demon" wasn't an acceptable answer. Not if you wanted to retain a reputation of sanity, and, not to mention, get your cow blood. 

The pentagram was already in place, the dark lines of it very red against the grass. All that remained was the intricate patterning of the runes. I bent down and started painting the first. 

"I want to avenge my mother" wasn't and acceptable answer either. Especially not when your mother's official cause of death was natural causes. And then when they asked about how, exactly, cow blood could help with avenging anything, that brought you back around to the whole summoning a demon thing, which led straight to calling the nice people in white coats, and, again, not getting your cow blood. 

With the runes half done, I checked the book on demonology. They all appeared to be correct, thus far. Mostly. I wiped out a small squiggle with a paper towel and redid it. 

Fortunately, instead of admitting that I needed the cow blood to paint a pentagram, summon a demon, and avenge my mother's death, I could lie. And the right lie, about needing it for a science project, to the right person, had gotten me my cow blood. 

And now I had finished using it to paint the pentagram and runes. All it would take was a little chanting in my birthday suit, and I would have my demon, and then, my revenge. I began to strip. 

It had all started when my Great Aunt Catherine had died. Though we had never been close, she left me everything, including, to my great surprise, several real books on magic. So I had begun my studies into the arcane. 

Nervous now that I was down to my underclothes, I slowly undid my bra. 

In a world largely devoid of magic, I'd learned to see auras. With the right gestures and magic words, I could move things without touching them. Small things, anyways. Like the TV remote. Now I'd skipped ahead a few, or possibly a few dozen, chapters, and was trying something much more difficult. 

Naked now, I stood and, resisting the urge to cover myself, began to chant. 

The official cause of death for my mother had been a heart attack. Only I had noticed the faint patina of black magic on the corpse. 

My mother's corpse. I angrily brushed a tear from my eye. 

For awhile, I had been to full of grief to care that my mother's death had been murder. Remembering those black months, I shivered, though, even without my clothes, the night was warm. The lack of caring, the numbness, had passed, however. And since, in a world that didn't believe, I couldn't go to the police...

Within the pentagram, an eldritch form began to coalesce. It was over six feet tall and dark green, and covered in bloodshot eyes and sharp toothed mouths and tentacles. I shuddered, suddenly wondering if this had really been a good idea...

And then, suddenly, a naked young man stood in the center of the pentagram. He was tall, with long, cotton-blond hair. Lithely muscular, with a smooth, open face, high cheekbones, and large, green eyes, he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. And, at the same time- my eyes flicked down- very definitely male. 

He paced the edges of the pentagram, looking for a way out. There was none. I had made sure of that. Or I thought I had. My eyes flicked nervously over the runes at the edge of the pentagram. Then, almost of their own accord, they flicked back to his cock. 

It was, in some indefinable way, just as beautiful as the young man himself. It was also, other than a few anatomy book sketches, the first I had ever seen. The balls were round and full, the size of golf balls, just the right size for me to cup in the palm of my hand. My fist partially clenched. I could almost feel the delicious weight of him. The cock itself was long, about nine inches, and thick, as big around as my clenched fist at the widest part. It stood, proud and tall, against his belly. I could see a vein throbbing against its side. Parts of my anatomy which I had not previously given much thought quivered. I swallowed, and licked suddenly dry lips. 

"What do you wish of me, mistress?" 

The question startled me, and my eyes flicked up from his shapely cock to his beautiful, almost angelic face. "What?" I said.

"Mortal... You appear to have me trapped. What do you wish of me?" 

His voice was just as lovely as the rest of him, soft and smooth. I swallowed again as my hindbrain offered an explicit answer to his question. It took me a moment to collect my thoughts. 

"I... I wish to have you avenge my mother's death," I told him, my own voice sounding harsh as a nestling's squawk in comparision. 

"And, if I perform this task for you, what do you offer in return?" As he spoke, he leaned forward eagerly, the tip of his dick pressing into his taut muscles. 

I hesitated. This bit, the bargaining with the demon, had only been mentioned in passing in the short manual on demon summoning. What would the demon want? My soul? I was reluctant to offer that straight off. It felt too much like putting all my cards on the table immediately. However, I knew only one other thing the demon might want. 

"My magic," I responded. 

According to the manual, demons fed on magic. The used strong emotions, like pain, anger, and hate, to make it easier to access, and then they sucked it out like a human might suck the juice from an orange. Or, at least, that was what I had gathered from the chapter on demon feeding. The text was a little archaic and hard to read, even for me. 

The demon shook his head. "Not enough." 

I gathered my resolve, and offered my soul. 

He laughed. "Wrong kind of demon, love. I don't want your soul. Sweet of you to offer, though." His eyes glittered. "Tells me how desperate you really are." 

I wet my lips nervously. I hadn't anticipated that my soul might not be enough. "What do you want, then?"

His eyes weren't focused on my face anymore. They were fixed on something much lower down. I began to blush. 

"Your body," he said, not looking up. My insides quivered. 

I hesitated, and then replied, "Done." My body was a small price to pay for avenging my mother. Still, his choice of compensation was a bit unexpected. More than a bit, actually. No one had ever wanted my body before. 

The demon stretched, and then leaned against the invisible wall at the edge of the pentagram. "We have a deal. I, Estries, son of Saban, do pledge myself in service to you, in exchange for your magic, and," he said as he smirked, "Your body." 

I flipped through the pages of the manual until I found an appropriate response. Flustered as I was, I didn't realized until later that it was the wrong one. "I, Lilly Rose Flaxen, do accept this pledge. And I, in return, pledge my magic, and, umm, my body, until death do us part." 

The moon darkened... 

The earth shuddered... 

And then... 

I blinked. I didn't feel any different, and the demon still stood, naked and suavely smiling, in the center of the pentagram. "You can let me out now," he said. 

I gulped. If the ritual had worked, the demon was now bound to obey me. But how did I know it had worked? We couldn't keep standing here all night, and yet, could I really let him out? Was it really a smart idea? 

"Please, mistress. I'd like to put some clothes on," he begged, looking just a little bit pathetic as he tried to cover his enormous cock and balls. Funny, he hadn't looked the least bit embarrassed until now...

"Clothes sound like a good idea," I said as I wiped away one of the containing runes. He stepped out of the pentagram. "I'll put my own on, and then I'll find some for you." I reached down to pick up my blouse. 

He caught my wrist. "First, I think, we should... Consummate our new relationship. "

I looked up, startled. "Consummate? What do you mean- Mmmph!" 

Suddenly a long, smooth, dark green tentacle stretching out of the demon's back was wrapped around my head, sliding into my mouth. I tried to bite it, with no effect, and then clawed at it frantically, only to have my wrists caught by two more tentacles. 

The demon smiled beatifically as more tentacles reached out from behind him to ensnare me. "Consummate means exactly what you think it means, my sweet."

My arms were lashed to my sides, and my legs were bound together. I struggled frantically. 

The demon chuckled as he scooped me up in his arms. "No need to fight it, my pet. I'm not going to hurt you. Just... Make you cum a bit."

My eyes darted around helplessly, looking around for something, anything, to help me escape. I hadn't expected the demon to collect on his part of the bargain so soon, and I really, really hadn't expected him to do it like this. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe, cocooned as I was by tentacles. My heart pounded like it was trying to escape my chest. But down below, in the one spot free of tentacles, I felt... Hot. Damp. Quivery. 

My nipples were already erect in the chilly night. One of the tentacles grew a hand, and took a nipple between thumb and forefinger. Then, gently, it twisted. I whimpered. My cheeks flushed. 

The demon laughed. "I'm going to enjoy you immensely, little one." He took the other nipple in his tentacles. Squeezed. Twisted. I whimpered again. "And, trust me, you'll enjoy this too." 

I felt his enormous cock pressing against my back, rubbing against my spine. Then I thought of her own tiny hole. His cock was much, much too big. How could I possibly- 

I squeaked as the demon brushed a tentacle against my nearly hairless genitals. The demon's eyes glittered in the moonlight. "Already damp, I see. Let's see if I can improve that..." 

I watched, helpless and frightened, as he reached down there again. Two tentacles delicately pulled aside my labia, and one reached up under a fold of skin. 

I squealed at the sudden sensation. "I've got your pearl," the demon murmured, breath warm against my cheeks. I met his eyes, pleading. He laughed. The he frowned. "You're a virgin? I didn't expect..." The he smiled. "No matter. I'll just have to be gentle, is all." 

The tentacle against my clit started to rub, faster and faster, until it was almost vibrating against my sensitive button of flesh. I gritted my teeth as best I could and held in my reaction. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

But I couldn't control the warmth spreading up my belly, nor the wetness growing between my legs. Especially not when the demon started playing with my nipples again. 

If only I could speak. He was suppose to be bound to obey me, after all. If only I could scream. If only I wasn't gagged. Drool was running down my checks, mixing with the tears leaking from my eyes. 

The demon's gaze softened, and he bent to kiss my forehead, his dark hair brushing gently against my face. "I'm sorry about this, I truly am. Well..." he tweaked a nipple and grinned. "I'm mostly sorry, anyways. But I need your magic to stay in this plane of existence, and for that," he tweaked my other nipple, "I need sex. You should feel lucky I'm an incubus demon. Regular demons use pain to feed." I frowned. He was feeding? Like this? The book hadn't said... 

His tentacles felt up my entire body, exploring me, finding my sensitive spots, like the bit on my neck, and the spot behind my ear. Every spot they found soon began to grow hot as it was expertly manipulated. It was getting harder and harder to hold my reaction in. I was biting down on the tentacle in my mouth, hard, to keep from squealing. The sensation in my groin were getting intense as the tentacle against my clit vibrated faster and harder, driving me to my peak. 

A new sensation was growing inside me. At first, it felt like I needed to pee. The urge got worse, and then... And then...

I came. For the first time in my life, an orgasm, unmistakable, crashed through me, shattering my thoughts and stiffening my muscles in its wake. I screamed, the sound muffled by the gagging tentacle. Then it was over. Slowly, I came back to myself. 

The demon smiled, looking angelic, teeth perfect and white against the darkness of the night. His green eyes bored into my teary ones, looking into my very soul. "Time for the main event, I think." 

He lined up a tentacle with my pussy as the tentacles holding my labia spread them farther and farther apart. "You're a virgin, so this may hurt a little..." 

No, I wanted to scream. Not like this! Not like this! I whimpered as his tongue ran along the edge of my ear, and, between that and the sudden increase in clitoral sensation, almost missed the actual moment of penetration. Pain, and then pleasure spiked through me. I screamed and arced up against the tentacles restraining me. Slowly, ever so slowly, he eased his tentacle further in, making me shudder. It wiggled and writhed inside me, almost as if it were searching for something. 

I knew the instant it found my g- spot. The pleasure of it made me go cross-eyed, and the tentacle began to move in and out of me, rubbing up against my spot, first slowly and then faster and faster with a relentless power. I would have cried out, heedless of my captor, but the sheer sensation silenced me, limiting my vocalizations to short, breathless squeaks. I came again, helpless to resist the pleasure inside me. The flood of sensation was longer this time.

When, finally, I mastered the overwhelming pleasure and came back to myself, I glared up at the demon's angelic smile. He held a thin tentacle in front of my face. "This," he informed me, grinning, "Is going up your ass."

My eyes widened, and I shook my head frantically. "Mmmm- ummm! Mmmm- ummm!" 

He frowned, looking down at the tentacle. "You're right. It is a little small." Before my eyes, the tentacle expanded, going from the width of my finger to the width of one of his. "How's this?" 

"Mmmm- ummm! Mmmm- ummm!" 

He smiled."Still too small?" The tentacle widened further. "How about this?" 

I shook my head, eyes still wide with horror. 

"Well, I can't make it any bigger if it's going to fit in your virgin behind." He grinned. "Maybe I'll expand it once it's in there. How about that?" 

"Mmmm- ummm! Mmmm- ummm!" I shook my head. 

"Very well, if you insist." Two tentacles spread my butt cheeks. "Now this may sting a bit at first..." 

Slowly, he eased the tentacle into my ass. The initial sensations of pain faded quickly, and then it just felt... Strange. Stranger than the sensation against my clit. Stranger than, for the first time, having something in my pussy. Strange but oh so good. 

Gently, ever so gently, it eased into me, feeling places that were never suppose to be felt, stimulating what wasn't suppose to be stimulated. I closed my eyes and blushed, embarrassed to be enjoying something so... Intrusive. 

In my ass, the tentacle expanded, almost to the point of pain. I had never before felt so full, so stuffed, like a Thanksgiving turkey. There was no way, absolutely no way I could fit any more. 

The demon grinned. "Looks like you have a bit more room in there." The tentacle in my cunt began to expand. I moaned. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the tentacle in my ass began to work in and out, in counterpoint to the one in my vagina. I felt the fleshy wall between them, thin and delicate, as they rubbed against it in their inexorable rhythm. 

The tentacle against my clit rubbed and buzzed. Around my nipples, tentacles tightened and twisted and tweaked, and the two tentacles inside me began to move faster and faster and faster. All over my body, but especially in my groin, sensations built and shifted until I could no longer bear the pleasure. I struggled to jerk away from the source of the sensation, but it only grew stronger. I moaned. No more, please, no more... 

I came for the third time in my life, screaming into the tentacle in my mouth, my whole body tensing, and then going limp. Tensing, and then going limp. The sensation ran up and down my body, making my eyes cross, making me whimper, making me drool. It was indescribable. 

It felt like an eternity that I was trapped like that, body arcing with pleasure, heart pounding, heat rushing up and down me, but, finally, it ended. But the demon wasn't done with me yet. He stimulated my now overly sensitive body until I couldn't bear it, until I could think of nothing except escape, and then, of nothing save the pleasure. I came again, and again, and again. I lost track of the number of orgasms. 

Finally, it was over. The demon's body still moved against me, and within me, making me quiver with weary pleasure, but my whole body feel limp. Used up. Finished. I only meant to close my eyes for a second, but, exhausted, I drifted off to sleep. 

Estries

As my new mistress fell into exhausted unconsciousness, I gently withdrew my tentacles from her ass and her pussy. Then I carefully examined the two holes for damage. 

There was some stretching, of course, but even as I watched the muscles were tightening. No tearing, but then, I had been careful about size. There was a little chafing, but only a little. Between her own natural juices and the stuff my tentacles secreted, there had been plenty of lubrication.

I changed the composition of my saliva, adding substances that soothed and promoted healing, and then gently licked the affected areas. Hopefully, by the time she woke up tomorrow, the chafed areas would be healed. She would be a bit sore from all the stretching, but there was nothing I could really do about that now. 

Delicately, I unwound my tentacles from her body, careful not to wake her. She had struggled quite a bit. I gently probed her body for bruises and chafing, applying saliva to each minor injury I found. 

Finally, with each small hurt carefully cataloged and dealt with, I was free to admire my new mistress. Lilly. I tasted the name, whispering it. "Lilly." The new center of my world. I would protect and serve her, as well as pleasure her and feed from her magic. 

She was plump and small breasted. A bit shorter than the average for women of this world. Her hands and feet were dainty and delicate, with long fingers and toes. Her face was beautifully innocent and trusting in sleep, with a light dusting of freckles. She had shoulder length, light brown, almost blond, hair and, I remembered, greenish brown eyes. Plump cheeks masked cheek bones, and a hard, sharp chin spoke of stubbornness, while a tiny nub of a nose and full lips disagreed. She stirred slightly as I watched, and then settled into deeper sleep. 

I knew I needed to let her rest for at least an hour, but, after that, should I wake her, and pleasure her again? No, I decided. The poor girl had had enough for one night. Besides, I had little desire to feed again so soon. We had plenty of time for that. The rest of her life, in fact. While it was possible for her to break the bond and dismiss me, it would be difficult, and she seemed to be poorly educated in the methods of dealing with demons. 

I wondered where her teacher was. If she even had one. I sensed no other wizards in the general vicinity, and she was poorly taught, so, perhaps, she was on her own. Unlikely, with her obvious inexperience, but possible. I would need to ask her in the morning. For now, though, I needed to get her cleaned off. 

Turning, I headed for the house that belonged to this fenced in yard. I would find her room, I would clean her off, and then I would put her to bed.



Incubus Ch. 02



A small voice peeped through the fog of confusion: Get up, you sad excuse of a woman. C'mon. Get your ass in gear.

The voice grew louder and more insistent. You have things to do.

Britt closed her eyes tightly and concentrated.

She had long ago perfected the ability to take whatever it was that caused confusion, anger, or sadness and lock it in a box for later examination. Often the cause went away of its own accord. Often the cause looked entirely different in the light of a new day. Either way, this box allowed her to get on with her life when she would otherwise be crippled. Some would call it denial. Britt called it sensible.

With some effort, she stuffed the incubus in the box.

Unfortunately, the residual headache from the night before couldn't be dealt with in the same way. Britt got up, put her hair in a ponytail, and donned her jogging gear. Hangover cure number one: eight ounces of orange juice, four miles of pavement, one shower, and voila: good as new.

The crisp, autumnal air invigorated her. She jogged from her apartment to the university campus where she toiled as a graduate student. She found an easy rhythm as she jogged up and around the various residence buildings and past the sports fields. Her long legs easily ate up distance as she ran around a lake and its parklands. Finally, she sprinted the home stretch.

By the time Britt returned, panting and lathered in sweat, her head was clear. She bent and studied the lock of her front door and could see no sign of tampering. Okay, no obvious break and enter.

She showered, lingering under the punishingly hot stream, allowing her muscles to relax and her stress to drain away. After she dried herself, she examined her new nipple ring more closely. She pulled and twisted it, turned it within the hole, but no break revealed itself. She considered cutting it off, but the notion of hacking at something so close to her tender breast left her cold. Besides, the ring did add a certain something to an otherwise firm and shapely breast. Something a little rebellious. Too bad its twin had nothing. She might have to look into that. Maybe.

Moving from the gleaming ring, she took stock of herself. If her former boyfriends and occasional admirers were to be believed, she was somewhere between pretty and absolutely ravishing. She knew that the earnestness of these assertions depended largely on how motivated they were to get into her pants or how susceptible they thought she was to compliments. Many tried, but seldom did she allow herself to be manipulated. If she went down that road with anyone, she did so with eyes open and with certain expectations.

Britt's might not be ravishing, but she did qualify as pretty. The mirror showed light brown hair that cascaded in damp waves to her shoulders, framing a face with high arching eyebrows, green eyes, fine nose, an expressive mouth with full lips and the straightest teeth orthodontic coverage could buy. Defined cheekbones. Firm jaw. Perhaps she was a little more than pretty.

Regular exercise had ensured that she'd avoided the freshman fifteen as an undergrad. She'd maintained a lean figure through those years, aided as much by poverty as discipline. Recent years had added some attractive volume to the curves men found so appealing. 

Perhaps it was no accident that demonboy had sought her out.

Britt donned an oversized t-shirt and nothing else. The incubus sat in his box, occasionally stomping around, but Britt managed to ignore it. With a steaming mug of coffee, she settled onto the sofa and regarded the thick Victorian novel on her lap. She had to make some serious headway with her reading list. Her professors would have little patience for an unprepared graduate student.

The phone rang. The call display showed that it was Mike. She let the call go through to voice mail.

She settled more comfortably on the sofa and opened the book. The Victorians were nothing if not long-winded. She flipped to the back of the book. Over 800 pages. Good God.

Britt eyed her laptop on the dining room table. 

She tossed the book aside and started the laptop. She typed "incubus" in the search engine. She disregarded the band of that name and scanned the pertinent sites and articles with increasing disappointment. Incubi, it seemed, were either a convenient myth to explain away rape, incest, and nymphomania or actual living, breathing demons. Her own experience notwithstanding, those that claimed the latter seemed to be card-carrying members of the tin foil hat brigade.

There had to be another explanation.

She closed the computer in disgust and returned to her novel, consigning the whole issue to her box. She hefted the volume and wondered if the Victorians had ever suffered from chafed pussies and mysteriously pierced nipples. If they did, they certainly didn't write about it.

There were minutes, perhaps an hour at a stretch, when Britt completely forgot the incubus. Then she would catch herself in the mirror and discern the thick ring that pressed against the fabric of her t-shirt. Or she would adjust herself on the sofa and feel the tingling rawness between her legs. At those times her mind would turn inexorably to the incubus, their improbable meeting, the heat of his breath on her pussy and the feeling of his tongue on her clit. 

The phone rang at six and again half an hour later. Mike both times. Britt picked up the second time.

"Where've you been?" he asked without preamble.

"Home."

"I've been calling you."

"I know."

"Well?"

"I've got to get through Middlemarch."

"Middle what?"

"March. It's a novel."

"Oh."

"You got me drunk last night, by the way."

"Fat lot of good it did me."

Asshole.

"Huh?"

Crap. That had been out loud. "I stubbed my toe."

Britt heard the snap of a beer being uncapped. "Doing anything tonight?"

"Middlemarch."

"What?"

Didn't he listen? "The novel."

"Right. Tomorrow night, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"Great."

"Bye, Mike."

Britt hung up and wondered what she'd seen in him. She'd have to do something soon.

Britt turned off the lights and fell to bed, exhausted. The events of the previous night already felt distant. She reviewed the whole incident as dispassionately as she could. The big question remained: could he be who he claimed to be? Britt possessed an analytical mind, and the notion that she's been entertained by a demon was positively beyond all reason. True, he had entered a locked apartment with no sign of forced entry. It was nothing a skilled criminal couldn't do. He had revealed horns. It was nothing that couldn't be faked by some mean-spirited drama student to fool someone drunk and sleepy and gullible. She'd met the first two conditions. Perhaps she met the third too. 

The fact of the ring remained—a thick hoop with no beginning and no end. A piercing that had appeared overnight. A piercing that should have taken weeks to heal, but had left no wound and no discomfort. A hoop that grew warm when she thought of him....

She tossed. The ring was difficult to reconcile.

Would he appear again tonight?

She toyed with the ring.

It was really was impossible that it could have healed so soon.

The ring warmed perceptibly in her fingers. Her other hand snaked down her abdomen.

She wished he would appear....

***

Monday morning. Britt sat in class and tried to pay attention. A fitful sleep, filled with odd visions and lascivious dreams, had left her exhausted and distracted. The professor paced back and forth, lecturing enthusiastically on some Romantic poet. On any other day, Britt would have been carried away by the passion of the words. Instead, her thoughts, spurred by the insistent heat of the ring that impaled her nipple, returned to the passion she had shared with her nocturnal visitor two nights before. 

Britt's awareness of the ring had grown from the moment she awoke. It had started with a pleasant warmth, a comforting reminder of a remarkable night. For that memory alone she would cherish the ring always. She thought of him and of what he had given when he could easily have taken. So unlike certain selfish boyfriends. She considered her own inexplicable submission to this stranger and counted herself lucky that it had ended as it had. 

She sat in class and realized that she was thinking of him in the past tense. She leaned forward and pressed her tingling breast to her forearm. It came to her that she did want to see him again, if only to determine once and for all who and what he really was. The ring vibrated. Come to think of it, she needed to see him again. She couldn't bear the thought that their meeting had been pure chance, never to be repeated. It left too many unanswered questions, too many possibilities unexplored.

She squirmed on the hard wooden chair, discomfited by the vibration that extended now from the ring to her loins. 

She needed to see him again. The thought that such magic, such intensity, could not be repeated was unbearable.

Her body was alive, thrumming to a frequency beyond the ken of others. She wondered absently how her classmates could be indifferent to her growing agitation and arousal. 

Britt started when the scraping of chairs announced the end of the lecture. She looked at her notes, gasped, and quickly closed the binder, hoping that no one had seen the page. Doodles filled the page—rings with horns, entwined limbs, sexual organs. The sketches overlapped, one bleeding into another. An orgy.

* * *

Britt numbly followed the students filing out of the lecture hall. A hand grabbed her vice-like around the upper arm and tore her from the chattering exodus.

She whirled at her assailant. "Hey! What are you doing?"

It was demonboy, looking as tired as Britt felt. His grip was tight and there would be a bruise on her arm in the morning. At his touch, the ring shot a wave of heat through her body that nearly buckled her knees.

"I should ask you the same thing," said the incubus tightly, similarly staggered by the searing waves that suddenly enveloped them. "Why are you summoning me now?"

"I'm not. I didn't."

"I felt you."

"I was just thinking of you."

"Don't. It's distracting."

Britt fought to recover her equilibrium. Her heart leapt at seeing him again and at the notion that she could distract an incubus. She took a deep steadying breath and studied him. For a demon, he was certainly a dish. None of that sneering gargoyle hideousness. Hell, he was the type of guy a mother would swoon over. In the light of day, Britt could fully appreciate his ruggedly good looks and his aura of strength. His chiselled features, perfectly proportioned, were crowned by a full head of wavy brown hair. Healthy laugh lines bracketed smoky grey eyes. Firm lips. Strong chin with the hint of dark stubble. His weathered face suggested time spent outdoors with no concern for the elements. If Britt had to guess, she would have pegged his age to be in the mid-thirties. She caught his eye again and noted a depth and knowingness in his gaze and had to admit the possibility that he was older. 

He wore a scuffed leather bomber jacket over a tight white t-shirt, jeans, and heavy black boots. In the halls of academia, he was a man among boys, a wolf among sheep. Britt's stomach flipped.

The incubus let go of her arm and leaned against the wall. 

"What's wrong?" asked Britt.

The incubus answered with a weariness that was tinged with anger. "Ordinarily, a summons comes at night. Understand? Daytime is when I sleep."

"Like a vampire."

"Not like a vampire. Vampires aren't real."

Britt almost laughed. Professional jealousy? "Of course," she said.

"But you can't seem to shut up."

"I've barely said anything," said Britt, bristling.

"That's not what I mean. Ever since we met, you've been summoning me, without words, day and night."

"I do?" Britt wondered if he could read her thoughts.

"I've heard of people like you," he continued, "People who can call unconsciously at all times or at will, but I've never experienced them, not in all of my ... years."

"So I've been interrupting your sleep? I'm glad I'm not the only one." 

Damian didn't smile. "We need to talk. We should go somewhere."

"My office?" suggested Britt.

"Since when do they give students offices?"

"When they're grad students. I'm a teaching assistant."

"Lead on then."

They weaved through students in the hall, exited the building, and crossed a lawn.

"I'm Britt, by the way."

"I know."

"Do incubi have names? I've been calling you demonboy."

"Damian."

"Pleased to meet you, Damian." She turned to shake his hand but thought better of it. Shaking hands seemed superfluous after having your pussy mauled.

They entered the liberal arts building.

"What happened to the horns?" whispered Britt.

"It wouldn't do to flash them here. It takes some effort to suppress them, though. Especially when you're tired." He frowned at her accusingly.

The halls were deserted. It was noon and students and faculty were out for lunch or lingering outside, enjoying the fading warmth of autumn before winter claimed the campus.

When the office door closed behind them, Damian threw the lock.

The office was a disaster of sagging bookshelves, stacks of essays, and a desiccated spider plant. 

Damian turned to Britt. "So you didn't summon me on purpose?"

"How do I know? I hadn't summoned anything except pizza before last weekend. And even then, it's not like I tried. You just appeared. And just so you know, this hasn't been easy on me either. First you break into my place and surprise the crap out of me. Then you give me a tongue-lashing and leave me with a body mod I didn't ask for. Finally you disappear without giving me your name or a phone number or anything. Believe me, buddy, you're not the only one who's lost sleep."

Damian appeared momentarily nonplussed. "What have you been doing in the past hour? What were you thinking?"

"I was just daydreaming."

"About what, exactly?"

Britt blushed. "About you."

Damian waited.

"I was thinking that it was too bad that you didn't let me return the favor that night. I felt like I cheated you."

He stared at her hard. "You can't cheat me," he said flatly.

God, he looked good. Britt swallowed and approached him, placing trembling hands on his firm chest.

"Then maybe you cheated me."

Her mouth spoke the words but Britt could not believe her ears. What the hell was she saying?

Damian closed his eyes. "You don't know what you're dealing with, girl."

Right, thought Britt. She didn't know what she was dealing with. Britt's hands shook as slid down his lean torso, tracing the ripples of his abdomen until they reached the buckle of his belt. Here, she hesitated. Part of her was horrified. Why was she doing this?

The other part of her said, "I can learn."

Damian exhaled loudly.

She pulled at his belt.

"This is one kind of education you'll never stop paying for."

Britt failed to catch the note of despair in Damian's voice. The blood rushed in her ears and the ring sang its pleasure. She swallowed again and nodded. She undid his pants and lowered herself to her knees, drawing the pants down with her.

* * *

Britt knelt before him and put her hands together, as if in prayer. She reached for him, palms together, her fingers spread in a vee to cradle him. Nestled between her fingers, she stroked him, gently and without haste. 

He leaned against the desk. 

Her fingers closed around him and locked into each other. Britt squeezed gently and thick veins stood out from the shaft—serpentine, pulsing, and vital.

She released him and ran her fingernails slowly along the underside of his erection, from the base to the head and back. 

Britt adjusted herself. Grasping him firmly in one hand, she leaned into him. She pursed her lips and pressed him against them, kissing him gently. Her tongue slipped out from between parted lips and tasted him, triggering an vague echo of recollection. 

She moved forward, inviting him into her mouth. Her lips slid slowly over the corona, tongue exploring the glans. She tightened her lips around his circumference and pressed her teeth against the neck of the glans, eliciting a muted groan from Damian. She ran her tongue in teasing circles around his head, the surface of which grew firm and taut under the pressure of increased engorgement. 

Slowly, she pressed further into him. She could barely manage half of him. His width filled her. The head, smooth and hard, pressed insistently against her palate. Its coolness, in sharp contrast to the heat that emanated from the rest of his body, soothed her.

Britt willed herself beyond comfort and suppressed reflex. With a tilt of her head and a flattening of her tongue, she pressed forward. He slipped beneath the palate and advanced further within her. Her hands pulled his hips toward her until her nose touched flesh. 

She held him fully within her for several long moments, savoring him and a personal victory, for never before had she claimed a man in this way. 

His entire length pressed within her, alive and marble-hard. She extended her tongue and pressed against his entire length. She rolled her tongue in undulating waves, a motion that communicated her desire to draw him in more deeply. 

She gently bit the base of his cock. He grasped the sides of her head, clutched her hair, but didn't interfere with the exquisite play of mouth and tongue. 

Britt pressed her face more firmly against him, revelling in his aroma and a closeness so profound that it seemed to breach her core.

He had no more to give. His entire length impaled her.

He placed a hand behind her head and pulled.

The muscles of her throat closed tightly over him.

She wanted him. She wanted to ingest him.

The spell broke with a sharp crack of something hard striking her back. The point of impact flared painfully. Britt caught movement out of the corner of her eye as a whiplike object retreated behind Damian. 

A tail? Impossible.

Damian slowly disengaged himself and Britt mourned his absence. He grasped Britt under the arms and lifted her effortlessly to the desktop. Books and papers fell to the floor.

Britt's eyes widened, clouded now with the first wisps of fear.

His horns were larger that they'd been the night before. They rose at least eight inches from the crown of his head, twin obsidian spires angled slightly outward with an elegant backward curve. His shoulders and chest too appeared wider, and thick veins pulsed in his muscular arms. His skin had adopted a reddish hue. 

Any lingering hope that he was human evaporated.

"It's too late for that," he growled.

"What?"

"Fear." 

His eyes glowed like embers and Britt cursed herself for having teased a demon.

He grasped her roughly behind her neck and pulled her face violently toward him. "I tried to warn you."

He kissed her then, violently, hungrily. Britt was terrified but found herself responding to Damian in spite of it. His teeth nipped her lower lip, drawing a bead of blood. His tongue snaked out and licked the spot.

Britt's eyes widened as his other hand insinuated itself beneath her skirt and forced itself between her legs. With a strong movement, the thong lay torn on the floor.

He pushed up her skirt and Britt spread her legs. She cursed her body for blindly obeying its own imperatives before her mind could fully evaluate the consequences. And there could be no good consequences to this. It was too fast, a reckless intimacy without precedent. Yet here she was, willingly exposing her most tender and vulnerable parts to a demon. In spite of that, it felt right, this unconscious invitation.

Her labia, pink and fluted, glistened.

She couldn't have ended it now. Despite the fear and the prospect of danger, she wanted him with an intensity she could not understand. 




Incubus Ch. 02



Lilly

The sun coming in through my window woke me slowly. I yawned, sat up, and looked about my room. It was messy, with books on magic and college textbooks scattered everywhere. A book on omen reading sat next to a book on Java, and my book on demonology-

My book on demonology. The ritual. Last night. I wondered if it had all been a dream. I'd had vivid dreams before, though never one so... Explicit.

I looked down at my breasts, and felt the rough cotton of the sheets against my bare behind. I was naked. Completely naked. I never slept naked. And I felt a little sore in my private places. So it wasn't a dream. Last night had really happened. I wondered what my new demonic familiar was getting up to now. Probably nothing good. 

I dressed and padded downstairs, barefoot and apprehensive, to get my breakfast and find the demon. I wondered what I would do if he wasn't in the house. What if I had just unleashed an unspeakable evil on this world? Would he go around raping women until I stopped him? Could I stop him? Last night had proved that my control over him was, at best, limited. 

There was noise in the kitchen. Not loud noise, just the quiet clinking and clattering of dishes. I peered nervously into the room.

The demon turned to me from where he stood, unloading the dishwasher, and smiled. He wasn't naked, thank God. I wondered where he had found the clothes. "Good morning, mistress. I trust you slept well." 

I jerked my head out of the doorway, panting. What the fuck? Was he... Cleaning my kitchen? 

"Are you alright, mistress? I made you breakfast," the demon called from the next room. "Scrambled eggs and toast. I couldn't find the ingredients for anything more complex. I hope you don't mind."

How could he act so casual, as if last night hadn't happened? As if he hadn't-

"I also did some cleaning. Your kitchen was a mess," said the demon, peering out into the hall at me. I took a step backward, then another, and then turned and fled to my room, slamming the door behind me. 

Okay, I had to get rid of him. But how? The book on demonology. Right. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. Okay, dismissing demons... Dismissing demons...

Last night's pledge had bound him as my familiar, so the normal dismissal spell wouldn't work. Neither would waiting for the initial summons to fade. I acted as an anchor, binding him to this world. And I would continue to do so until my death, because I had used the "until death do us part" pledge. Fuck. 

Apparently the only way to dismiss a demon that had been bound as a familiar involved starving him, which would take awhile, or trapping him in a pentagram. I picked up the remaining cow blood and a brush. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. "Mistress? May I come in?" 

I hurriedly threw a rug over the pentagram and runes I had just painted. "Sure!" 

The door opened. The demon took a step into the room, and then paused. He lifted the rug, and shot me an amused grin. "Nice try." He carefully smeared a rune with his foot, and then dropped the rug. "I take it that your little book doesn't mention that I can sense magic." 

Shit. It did, but I had forgotten. That would make trapping him in a pentagram pretty much impossible. The demon took a step towards me. I took a step back. He grinned again. 

"Your only real option for getting rid of me, if you desire to do so, is to starve me out. But that will involve going against your pledge. Remember, you promised me your body and magic?"

"Fuck you," I snapped.

"Maybe later. The thing is, if you refuse to honor your pledge, my compulsion to obey you will fade, until you won't be able to keep me from doing whatever I want to you." He smiled slyly. "Perhaps my hold on this reality will fade faster than your ability to command me, but I doubt it. And, of course-" Suddenly, the demon was right next to me, pressing his hand gently over my mouth. "There is the fact that I am significantly faster and stronger than you are, and you need to speak to command me." He removed his hand. 

"Get out of my room!" I growled. 

"You will need to concentrate on the command to force me to obey you," the demon told me. "But I will leave, as you request. After you tell me one thing." His green gaze met mine. "Where is your teacher?" 

I blinked. "My what?" 

"Your teacher. Your tutor in the wizardly arts. Where is he? Or she, if it a woman." He eyes searched mine, and he sighed. "I take it you don't have one?" 

"Why do you care?" I asked. 

"Multiple reasons, but the main one is that you seem poorly trained. We will have to do something about that. Untrained wizards have a tendency to get themselves killed. How long have you been studying?" 

I didn't see any reason not to tell him. "Six months next week." 

He blinked. "You're joking." 

"Umm, no, I'm not. You said you would leave my room?" 

He ignored me. "You've been training six months, and you thought demon summoning was a good idea? What the hell were you thinking?" 

"Is that any of your business?"

He shook his head. "You have no idea how lucky you are, child. If you had messed up the spell, even a bit, or if I had resisted the summons, or, frankly, if you had ended up with a demon even a little less cooperative than me, you would be dead right now. Or worse." 

He blurred past me, and picked up my book on demonology. "I'm keeping this. For now, at least." Another three blurs, and he held a small stack of books. "These, too. You can have them back when you aren't likely to get yourself killed." 

"Why, you fucking patronizing asshole!" I tried to focus on a command. "Give me-" But he was gone, with the books. And there went my only possibility of learning enough about demons to get rid of him. "Fuck!"

When I went down to get some breakfast, the books were gone. A quick glance at my bookshelf told me he had taken some of my other books on magic, too. Asshole. 

The demon glanced at the plate with the scrambled eggs and toast. "Want me to microwave it for you? It's gotten a bit cold." 

I didn't answer. In fact, I ignored the food the demon had made me in favor of cereal. Except, when I tipped the box over the bowl, I found that I was out of cereal. "Fucking-" I felt tears welling up in my eyes. The demon, the forced orgasms, his high handed removal of my books. It was all too much. 

I felt a hand on my back. "Perhaps, while you eat, we should talk about the reason why you summoned me. The toast is cold, but the eggs are still at least a bit warm. Or I could make you something else."

I blinked back the tears. "No, toast and eggs work." When I was sure I had myself under control, I turned, went over to the table, and sat down. "Do you remember what I told you last night?" I asked. 

"Yes. You wish me to avenge your mother's death," he answered. "Do you know who killed her?" 

I shook my head. "I was kind of hoping that you could figure that out. The book mentioned that demons can sense magic? And track the magic users, once they've gotten a feel for their magic?" If that wasn't true, this whole disaster had happened for nothing. 

He nodded. "Yes. So she was killed by magic?" 

I remembered the greasy black aura over the corpse. "Yes." I blinked back tears again. "Yes, she was." 

"Where?" 

"My par- my dad's place." My father. He had taken up drinking after Mom died. I fought not to cry. 

The demon's hand brushed my cheek. "I'm sorry."

I batted his hand away. "Fuck off." 

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked. 

"Yes. Track the damn killer." Breakfast finished, I stood. "It's a half an hour's drive to my dad's place. We'd better get started. I've got classes this afternoon." 

The demon tried to make small talk during the half an hour drive to my father's house, but I wasn't interested in chatting. Not with him, anyways. Eventually he gave up and sat silently, looking out the window. 

Having him so close to me made me uncomfortable in a multitude of subtle ways. There was the danger he represented, of course. He was very powerful, with impossible strength and speed, and that made me nervous. I also had no clue what his motivations were. beyond sex and magic. Obviously he had other goals as well. Otherwise, I would have woken up either in the backyard covered in slime, or in his clutches as he started to feed again, not clean and dry, alone in my bed. And then there was the whole thing where he made me breakfast and cleaned my kitchen. It was confusing, to say the least. 

He made me uncomfortable in other ways, too. I remembered the feel of him, in my pussy and in my ass, pushing me to climax. I remembered the feel of his muscular chest a he held me close, and his cock rubbing against my back. And he was certainly not unattractive. He would need to feed again sometime, wouldn't he? I shook my head to clear it. I could not be looking forward to another encounter with my rapist. 

But I was, wasn't I? Last night had felt better than anything I'd ever felt before. And the idea that this attractive, if somewhat feminine, man wanted me enough to force the issue made me feel good. Desirable. Special. 

Enough introspection, I decided. We were here. I pulled into the driveway of my dad's house. 

Estries

We pulled into the driveway of a house with a large, and rather unkempt, front yard. This must be Lilly's father's house. Lilly turned off the engine, and got out of the car. I followed as she went up to the front door and rang the bell. 

We waited awhile, but no one answered. "He must not be home," Lilly said, fishing in her purse for her keys. "Might be just as well. I don't know how to explain you. He won't mind if I let myself in."

The door creaked open, and I immediately smelled booze and vomit. Lilly wrinkled her nose. "He said he was going to quit," she complained to no one in particular

We had to step around a puddle of dried puke to enter. I decided not to comment. 

It turned out that Lilly's father was home after all. He was snoring, half on the couch with his face mashed on the floor. "Dad?" Lilly called. 

Her father snorted. His eyes slowly opened, and then quickly shut again. "Turn off the the damned lights," he groaned. 

Lilly obediently turned off the lights. "You said you were going to AA, dad."

"I am not an alcoholic," her father slurred, trying to sit up. "I just drink socially. You know, with my friends?" 

"I know what socially means, Dad," Lilly sighed. "And it does not mean come home so drunk you can't make it onto the couch." 

"I'm your father. Show some respect," the old man slurred. He gave up on sitting, and slid off the couch. Then, slowly, he stood. Finally upright, he blinked at me. "Who're you?" 

"He's just a friend, Dad," Lilly sighed, 

"Aren't you gonna to introduce us?" he asked. 

Lilly sighed again. "Dad, this is Estries. He's a friend. Estries, this is my father, Sam." 

"Estries. Sounds foreign." Sam blinked at me. "You foreign, boy?" 

"Dad, Estries is-" Lilly began, but her father cut her off. 

"Let the boy speak for himself," he said. 

"I'm not from around here, no," I said. 

Sam shook a finger at me. "Don't want no foreigners dating my girl." 

"We're not dating, Dad. We're just friends," Lilly sighed. 

"That's what the boys say," her father said. "But you know they only want one thing." He glared at me, swaying slightly. "You stay away from my girl. Got that? Or I'll kill you dead." 

His eyes widened, and he put a hand over his mouth and lurched off, out of the room. A second later, we heard him vomiting. 

Lilly sighed. "Hopefully he made it to the toilet." 

"Hopefully," I said, looking after the man with an expression of disgust. "Now, where did your mother die?"

"In the kitchen," Lilly said, then added, blinking back tears, "I found the body." 

"How long ago?" I asked. 

"About three months. It... It took me awhile to, you know, get everything together. For the ritual, I mean," Lilly explained. 

"I might not be able to find anything," I warned. "It might have been too long ago." 

Lilly blinked again. "I know," she whispered, then added, in a stronger voice, "Try anyways." 

"Of course. Now, where in the kitchen?" I asked. 

Lilly pointed. 

The first thing I noticed when I entered the kitchen was bottles. Lot and lots of bottles, all different sizes, most empty, but some unopened, or half full. The sink was full of dishes, as was one of the counters, but most of the kitchen was occupied by bottles. 

Lilly sighed. "I'm going to do some cleaning," she said. "You just do your thing." 

I nodded. I would have to look deeply to have any chance of sensing the remains of killer's spell after so long. I closed my eyes. It was easy enough to cut off sight, then. One by one, I blocked out the other senses inherent to this form. The smell of alcohol. The feel of the floor beneath my feet, and the clothes against my skin. No taste, easy enough to ignore that. And then, finally, I blocked out the sound of Lilly rummaging through cabinets, and muttering to herself about trash bags. 

It was not dark in this little, cut off world of mine. It was not silent. I was beyond darkness, or silence. It was nothing. Pure null. Except for one thing. The sense of magic. 

I could feel Lilly nearby, a fiery cloud of power and noise that smelled like rain and felt like a purr. Outer shell of magic, inner orb of life force. I could feel the bond between us, created by the pledge. It was warmth, and comfort, and the smell of peaches, and the color blue. It was not stretched taunt, but was waving, like a jump rope will if a person shakes it from each end. 

Lilly's mother must have had the potential for wizardry, just like her daughter, because I could sense her, too. This still felt like her home. I could feel where she was standing when she died. Her magic marked it. And, around that, I could feel... 

Wrongness. Darkness. Death. A feeling of greasiness, and the sweet smell of decay. Something was off about the remains of this spell. Yes, it was death magic, but it shouldn't feel quite so... Dead. It had something to do with the wizard who cast it. Maybe something was wrong with his or her magic. It would make the killer easy to track. Every wizard's magic had a signature, like a fingerprint, but this was... Very distinct. 

I reached with my mind, searching for the fingers that had made this print, the claws that had ripped a mother's life away. For an instant, I found it. It was close. And then, just as I was about to get the precise location, it was gone. Damn. My eyes snapped opened. 

It took me a second to process the sudden influx of information from my non magical senses. There was a kaleidoscope of light and sound and smell. And, I noted, a slight pain. I looked down. 

There was a kitchen knife buried up to the hilt in my stomach. I sighed, and looked over at Lilly. "That's not going to actually hurt me, you know."

She glared defiance. "I had to try." 

I removed the knife, and absentmindedly mended the hole in my flesh. The shirt was a projection of my will, and easy enough to fix. "You may as well accept that you're stuck with me, my dear. Nothing you are capable of can kill me." 

With a flick of the wrist, I threw the knife at Lilly, who shrieked and flinched. "You can, however, irritate me quite a bit," I continued. "This could make our relationship somewhat chilly." 

Lilly looked up at the knife just above her head. "You could have killed me!"

"I never miss." I turned to leave the room. "I'll be in the car." 

A few minutes later, Lilly joined me. She started the car, and pulled out of the driveway. I stared out the window, thinking. 

I wished I hadn't taken her by force last night. I wished I hadn't needed to feed so badly that I couldn't afford to ask for permission, out of fear that the answer would be no. It had been about a year, in mortal time, since I had left the world of my birth, looking for a mistress or master of my own. I had wanted someone I could love like my parents loved each other. In that year I had nearly been summoned several times by magical practitioners who were obviously evil. I remembered one, an old man, had a girl tied up near the pentagram, presumably for me to feed on once I had pledged to him. I shuddered. 

Lilly's summons had seemed like a godsend after all those evil wizards. Here was a young woman who was good, thoughtful, and kind, one who wasn't likely to make me do something nasty. The hint of grief and desperation made me feel needed, and protective. I had answered the summons without hesitation, and had fed primarily to ensure I remained by her side. And now, because of that, Lilly wanted to get rid of me before I had even accomplished what she summoned me to do. There was no way around it. I had screwed up. 

"Ummm... Estries?" Lilly was speaking quietly, like she wasn't sure she wanted to attract my attention. 

I looked over at her. "Yes?" 

"I just wanted to say... I'm sorry I stabbed you." Lilly shifted uncomfortably. "Are you still mad?" 

I shook my head. "No." Well, not mad at her, at least. I was kind of mad at myself. 

Lilly nodded. "Good."

We sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally Lilly asked, "So, did you get anything? About my mom's killer, I mean?" 

Ah. The reason for her apology. I should have known. "Yes. I felt the spell. And I was able to sense the killer. However, before I could get an exact location, the killer must have noticed I was searching, and must have shielded to block the magical signature. I'll try again later. Don't worry, I'll find whoever it is, and make them regret ever touching your mother." 

There was another brief silence. Then Lilly whispered, "Thank you." 

Lilly

Classes today were uneventful. When I got home, I discovered that Estries had made me dinner. It was kind of nice not to have to worry about cooking. Besides, Estries was a good cook, even without much to work with. 

"When's your next day off?" Estries asked as I finished my spaghetti. "I'd like to do some grocery shopping." 

"I've got enough time tomorrow," I answered. "Before my lab." 

"Good. I'll prepare a list," said Estries. "I'm going to try to find the killer again. Please don't stab me this time." 

"I won't," I assured him, looking at my feet. Not like it would work, anyways. 

Estries closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he opened them again, scowling. "Shielded before I could get a location again. Damn." He looked over at me. "I'll keep trying, of course. I'm sorry." He looked sorry, too. Very apologetic. 

I sighed. "I'm going to bed." Halfway out of the kitchen, I stopped. "You planning on feeding?" 

Estries shook his head. "No. Why?" He half smiled. "Do you want me to feed?" 

"No. I just didn't want to wake up in the middle of the with something up my ass!" I snapped. But he was right. I did kind of want him to feed again. 

"Fair enough, mistress," Estries conceded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I replied, ignoring my faint pang of disappointment.



Incubus Ch. 02



Damian paused. The head of his cock lay a vivid purple against a blossom of pink, splitting the undulant flesh of her inner labia, framed by the smoothness of the outer. Her yielding softness tentatively embraced his implacable rigidity.

Britt opened her legs wider and thrust her pelvis forward. A universal invitation. Permission granted.

"Do it," she whispered. 

He paused, his entire being tense.

"Take me," she pleaded.

A pained look crossed his face.

"Please."

How often had he heard these words? Yet here, their tenor was different. The promise of giving as well as receiving. The promise of pleasure shared.

He entered her with agonizing deliberateness, spreading her lips, luxuriating in their taut embrace. He disappeared in increments, as though daring her to stop him. In response, she ran her legs up his muscular thighs and wrapped them around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back. He filled her. Just when she felt she could take no more, he thrust the rest home. Britt gasped. 

She could not contain him, yet her muscles tightened in erratic contractions, trying of their own accord to hold him captive. 

He withdrew. His cock glistened, baptized in her fluids.

He thrust again, gliding into her.

She couldn't possibly open herself more. 

His movements touched off a storm. Her core spasmed around him.

She threw her head back and surrendered to him completely.

He battered her.

Time fell away and his thrusts blurred.

From out of the fog, a roar of release, growing in volume.

Britt whimpered and abandoned herself. She reached forward, between her legs, and found him. At the moment of climax, her nails gouged furrows into the flesh of his back. The ring at her breast blazed painfully and she cried out.

At her cry, Damian withdrew suddenly, leaving her bereft and hollow.

Britt opened her eyes, ready to plead for his return.

Gouts of semen arced over her leg and spattered the desk and scattered papers, unmarked assignments.

How do I explain that? Britt wondered absently.

A hiss rose from the desk. The liquid bubbled and a sulphurous vapor filled the air. 

Britt watched in horror as the liquid vanished into the holes it burned through the papers and the surface of the desk.

The hissing ceased but the odor remained. She looked at Damian. His appearance had returned to normal. He scrutinized her, unspeakable sorrow in his eyes.

Britt's tongue lay paralyzed in her mouth. She drew up her legs and clutched them tightly.

Damian pulled on his jeans. He reached out to her and she flinched.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his despair fathomless.

"I...." he began. He then shook his head and exited the room, leaving Britt on the desk with her knees drawn up to her chin, arms hugging her legs.

* * *

"You seem to be doing a little more than the usual house calls. A little overtime, Damian?"

A woman, clad entirely in black leather, detached herself from the shadow of an ancient oak. Her coat ended mid-calf, partially concealing the boots that hugged her legs to just below the knee. She belonged to that rare class of woman who could walk confidently on stilettos, and a rarer subset thereof who combined that skill with feline grace. 

She turned and smiled at the young men who had stopped their game of touch football to observe her. Her coat opened, revealing a black waist cincher over a partially unbuttoned white blouse. A black leather skirt hugged shapely hips and, by virtue of its immodesty, revealed a scandalous expanse of toned thigh between it and the tops of her boots. 

She turned back to Damian and smiled, but concern quickly etched her face.

"Kat. Stop teasing the boys. We may have a problem."

Damian glared at the young men and they quickly turned away.

Kat and Damian walked quickly to where he'd parked his car.

Inside, he made no move to start the engine. Instead, he gathered Kat in his arms and embraced her as one would a lover, tongue twining with hers. 

She tasted him and the residue of Britt's blood.

She sat back and regarded Damian. "You're right. We may have a problem."



Incubus Ch. 03



A cool autumn breeze greeted Kat as she exited the isolated century farmhouse that she shared with Damian. It lifted her coat and caressed her bare legs as she locked the door. Here, far from the city's lights, a swarm of stars populated the heavens. Silence reigned. The farmers who resided miles down the road were enjoying their last few hours of sleep before beginning their daily labors. 

Damian's Porsche still sat in the inky darkness by the barn. It hadn't moved since they'd returned from the city on Monday. Damian had been uncharacteristically listless and silent on the drive home. Something had gone terribly wrong, and the foreign blood on his tongue only confused matters. It was human but bore unmistakable traces of the demonic. Damian could shed no light on whether he had somehow infused the blood with his own energy, or whether it was inherently so. The fact remained that this represented an unprecedented synthesis. Neither Kat nor Damian knew what to make of it.

Kat started her Range Rover and rolled slowly down the drive, gravel crunching loudly beneath the tires. The headlights illuminated the trees that stood like sentinels between the house and the dirt road. 

Damian hadn't fed since that Monday, and in the intervening days he'd grown increasingly pale and lethargic, sleeping by day and pacing the house and grounds by night. 

At first, Kat hadn't been unduly worried. There had been periods in the past during which Damian had exhibited similar symptoms. Periods during which he had failed to heed the essential difference between himself and his quarry and had developed an imprudent fondness for those he fed upon. Kat would berate him for his foolishness, for believing that the eagerness with which people surrendered to him was love and that it could blossom into something more. It could not. 

You're a demon, she would remind him, not some horny adolescent.

And then he would huff and roll his eyes, just like an adolescent.

Eventually Damian would relearn that the quarry's relationship to the incubus was fuelled by lust. Nothing more. The incubus had a unique power to lowered inhibitions, imbued the victim with the permission to fulfill any carnal desire, the courage to cross the line, and the desire to embrace fear. The result in the end was lust, a hunger to sin and to sacrifice. 

Eventually Damian would grow hungry and would once again distil that lust and fear into that which sustained him. 

He would learn anew that any sentiment that polluted the relationship between demon and quarry invited trouble. 

And there would pass a long period of stability -- years or even decades -- until he happened upon that one victim who would banish these lessons like leaves in a cool autumn breeze.

Earlier in the evening, Kat had asked Damian to accompany her on this run. They normally hunted alone because their tastes and methods differed and because they had no desire to see the other engaged in the very activity that was denied them as a couple. But tonight, Kat had wanted to keep an eye on him, to ensure that he received sustenance.

His response had given her a chill: "I don't hear the tone anymore."

It was the first inkling that Damian's moroseness stemmed from a cause more serious than unrequited love. 

Not hearing the tone was not unlike a bat being unable to receive sonar signals. For a demon, the tone meant the ability to navigate, to find a suitable prey, and to feed. Its absence was unthinkable and suggested to Kat that this was beyond time's ability to heal and her ability to help. This was new and unknown. This was sickness. 

She drove past a darkened farmhouse and projected herself into the rooms where people slept. There was no inkling of a meal there. Not that she wanted to feed in her own backyard, but it might have spared her a long drive.

She would feed at the university, about an hour's drive south. Over the time they'd been together, Kat and Damian had gravitated to university towns. More than any institution -- perhaps with the exception of convents and monasteries -- universities were reliable sources of nourishment. A large percentage of the students graduated each year, ensuring a healthy turnover. More importantly, young people responded well to their projections and returned strong tones, for their emotions were fresh, vibrant, and never too far from the surface. The promise of sin, they found, was often wasted on the old. Around a university, one modest projection could leave a demon awash in the ubiquitous feelings of youth: hostility, desperation, desire, and arousal. 

Kat stopped at an intersection and turned onto an empty two-lane highway that led through some sleepy villages and eventually to one of the two universities in town. She was hungry. The clock on the dashboard showed three o'clock, late enough for the drunken undergrads to have fallen asleep, early enough for her to feed and return to Damian.

If Damian could no longer hear the tone, he would starve. He would be unable to locate anyone whose response to him combined the necessary susceptibility with longing. 

***

Bryan Dueck was a large, strapping farm boy, away from home for the first time. Caught between his parents' religion, his own barely-suppressed desire, and thousands of young female undergrads who flaunted their youthful sexuality with carefree abandon, Bryan's tone had drawn Kat like a magnet. 

When she first met him, he'd been about ready to explode. 

She was happy to help him reach his potential. 

On the first night, Kat dispensed with the usual demonic foreplay -- the teasing, leering, and taunting. Instead, she straddled his chest, facing his feet, lowered herself, and took him into her mouth. Just like that. 

He was hard almost immediately. He thrashed around, as though dreaming of drowning or of being crushed, while simultaneously raising his hips in an effort to impale her face. A true multi-tasker. Kat drew him into her, enjoying the sleepy confusion and savoring his agitation. 

He ejaculated before he awoke fully, hot, expansive geysers typical of the young. Kat lapped it up, absorbing the contradiction between his bodily pleasure and his subconscious fear.

When he was spent, Kat curled up next to him, with her head on his shoulder and his cock in her hand.

He took a shallow breath, as though afraid that anything deeper would disperse the illusion. "You're real."

"Mmm." Kat pinched one of his nipples between her fingernails.

"Who... who are you?"

"Kat."

She stroked him, enjoying his confusion. She could feel the stirrings of life beneath her fingers. She loved the young.

"I don't know you, do I?"

"No."

"Okay."

His hand tentatively stoked her back. She smiled and snuggled a little closer.

"Do you know what I want to do?" she asked.

"What?"

"I'd like to fuck you now." 

She thrilled at the jolt of apprehension and desire that suffused him. She found that she was hungry again. Calling the preamble an appetizer, she eagerly tucked into the main course.

On the second meeting, he asked if he could take her out to dinner.

So cute, thought Kat, his wanting to be a gentleman. 

"You don't have to. Besides, I'm not hungry."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

"For food, I mean."

What she meant and what he thought she meant were different, but amounted to the same thing. Bryan smiled shyly.

"Besides, I'd prefer to fuck you."

"Okay." Bryan blushed. 

He was so cute.

The third meeting took place a couple of weeks after the last. Kat had been foraging -- evaluating prospects, snacking while they slept, and building up an inventory. Bryan wouldn't last forever, after all.

Bryan had been considerably less afraid the last time. It was charming that he'd so easily grown accustomed to her nocturnal visits, but Kat needed him on edge. This wasn't a partnership of equals. The experienced incubus and succubus could balance lust and fear, raise the intensity of each in a careful dance of risk and reward, of dread and ecstasy, and compel the subject to satisfy that which they feared most. It was the energy of that fragile balance that nourished.

Kat had allowed Bryan to take charge, and he rose above her like a rustic Adonis, pinned within the vee of her upraised legs. Lean muscles bunched, veins popped. A sheen of sweat bathed him.

A spring squeaked loudly and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Lifting her in his strong arms, he maneuvered her to a different position on the bed.

There was silence but for the occasional clap of flesh and muted moan.

"Fuck me hard," she whispered.

Bryan dutifully complied.

Kat squealed and drew her legs back. "Harder," she commanded, louder this time.

"Shh," whispered Bryan.

"What?"

"You have to keep it down. Hell, you shouldn't even be here," whispered Bryan as he slid in and out of her like a piston. "Besides, this is a Catholic college..."

Kat tightened herself around him.

"Mmm, that's good," he continued. "Not to mention the fact that this is a Catholic residence."

"And they'd frown on you fucking someone?"

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"What?"

"The F word."

"Fuck?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Okay."

"They'd frown me right out of here."

Bryan resumed his previous pace and was quickly on the threshold. For a relative novice, thought Kat, he was good.

Bryan closed his eyes and his movements grew erratic.

"Make love to meeeeee!" Kat bellowed, eschewing the F word. "Haaaard!"

Bryan's fear peaked as he came. 

Doors could be heard opening in the hallway.

"Oh, FUCK!"

"Oh, God," whispered Bryan.

Kat lapped it up. The thrill of fear, the pulse of lust. Perfect.

This was their fourth meeting. Kat's experience told her that it would likely be their last. He had satisfied her greatly, had sinned with uncontained enthusiasm, but she had no desire to consume him to the point of emptiness or to see him kicked out of his residence.

Despite his irritation with her immodesty the last time, he was going sweet on her. The fear and guilt of their first meetings was now replaced by an expectant lust. It saddened Kat, but it just wouldn't do. She regretted that their relationship was coming to an end -- Bryan was a sweet and innocent boy -- but lust alone did not nourish her. Lust had to be tempered with fear, and fear was increasingly difficult to instil in him. Too much fear turned the meal sour; an absence of fear turned it sweet. She didn't need empty calories, she thought wryly.

Kat parked opposite Bryan's residence. She projected her thoughts into the building and caught Bryan's tone at once. He was ripe. She ignored him for the moment and scoured the building. Most of the students were asleep but a few were studying, even at this hour. There was little risk of discovery.

She made her way into the building and slipped expertly into his room. He snored gently.

Kat willed him awake.

He opened his eyes and smiled. "Kat," he said sleepily, "I hoped you would come."

She could see tenderness in his eyes. How easily the young confused sex with love. How she envied them for their ability to consummate the latter.

"I told you I would."

She remembered how he'd been mortified the first time. She almost had to rape him, though he stammered his gratitude when it was over. His fear of getting caught with a woman in his room had infused his lust. Bryan had fed her well.

Kat pulled back the sheets and saw that he was already erect. They built them large on the farm, she thought. She smiled sadly in the darkness.

"Won't you be a gentleman and take my coat?"

Bryan rose and eagerly complied, slipping off the coat, revealing her bare shoulders. 

She faced away from him. She unclasped her hair and dark tresses cascaded over her shoulders. She had chosen her wardrobe carefully, selecting a black leather underbust corset that highlighted the fullness of her breasts and the narrow circumference of her waist. A leather choker adorned her neck. Judging by Bryan's increased heart rate, she knew that she'd chosen well; this was more than he'd bargained for.

Kat turned to face him. She could feel the heat of his gaze as his eyes tore themselves away from her breasts and stroked down her lean torso. She allowed him this visual feast. His eyes paused at the garter straps that framed her pussy, with its neat exclamation mark of hair rising above a glittering ring. The ring, a souvenir from her time in what was now the Czech Republic, pierced the base of the clitoral hood where it met the inner labia. The ring had no beginning and no end, and featured two little horns that seemed to glow in the darkness. Bryan studied it, as though he had never seen it before. It was quite possible that he hadn't; his attention in the past had been focussed elsewhere. His eyes traced the length of Kat's toned legs, encased in black stockings, which ended in a pair of black stilettos that for most were better suited to pointing at the ceiling than walking.

Kat approached him and leaned her forearms on his powerful shoulders. She kissed him and ran the tip of her tongue over the curve of his lips. His farm-calloused hands wrapped around her. They caressed her buttocks and ran up over the laces of her corset. She shivered and arched her back, pressing herself into him. His hands stopped at two bumps that Kat had deliberately allowed to develop on either side of her upper spine.

"What are those?" Bryan asked, concern in his voice.

"Oh those? Nothing. Don't worry about it."

She pushed him to the bed and straddled him. She grabbed his wrists and held them down on either side of his head. She felt the pulse beneath the skin.

"Tough girl," he said, smiling.

"You don't know the half of it." She leaned forward pressed his face into the cleft between her breasts. The stubble on his cheeks scraped her tender skin as she slid one breast and then the other over his face. Her nipple tickled his lips, which readily opened to accept her. He sucked each nipple when offered. He'd learned quickly what she liked. 

Kat sat up, still holding his wrists. Bryan tried to raise his hands and found that he couldn't. The veins bulged in his forearms, so she lessened her grip. A bitter undercurrent of uncertainty now flavored the sweetness of his confidence. Kat smiled inwardly at his consternation that he could not budge her.

Kat maneuvered herself over him. His cock rose to meet the entrance of her pussy, barely splitting her lips. She maintained her position, savoring his hardness and his heat. He lifted his hips and she moved with him, teasingly.

"Don't be so impatient," said Kat.

He groaned.

She lowered herself onto him by slow increments, withdrawing when his eagerness hurried her pace. She let go of his wrists. His glans brushed her g-spot and Kat held it there, enjoying the gentle pressure, angling her pelvis to increase it. Bryan fondled her breasts and gazed at her. 

Kat opened herself to him, feeling his energy, soaking it up like an appetizer.

His desire soared. No doubt, thought Kat, he regarded himself the luckiest guy on earth.

Kat allowed her tail to emerge behind her. Keeping it hidden was no trouble, but allowing it freedom during the act was exhilarating, a rare pleasure. With its tip, she stroked his inner thigh. 

"What's that?"

"What?"

"I feel something between my legs."

"Your cock. I have it." She lowered herself and tightened the muscles around him. He moaned and momentarily forgot the phantom sensation.

Kat rode him more quickly now and rocked her hips back and forth. 

Bryan's breathing came in gasps now.

Time to slow down.

"Why are you stopping?"

Kat said nothing and Bryan opened his eyes. "What's with your eyes? They're glowing."

"Must be my contacts," murmured Kat. She rose and held his glans tightly within her, contracting and releasing her muscles at an impossible rate while swivelling her hips in a lazy figure eight. She could feel the blood coursing through his hard cock. She allowed herself some enjoyment, revelling in his youthful hardness and the delicious pressure of his cock within her. She picked up the rhythm.

She stroked the inside of his thigh again, insinuating the tip of her tail between his legs to linger at his balls.

Kat felt his heart rate quicken.

His brow furrowed as he tried to reconcile this feeling with her known anatomy. A growing fear battled with his desire.

Kat threw her head back. Perfect, she thought. Perfect.

As she tightened herself around him and bore down, lips kissing his thick base, she unfurled white gossamer wings from the bumps Bryan had noted earlier. She extended them with a loud crack.

Bryan's eyes grew wide. Kat ground her hips into him and pinched his nipples between her sharp fingernails. He whimpered. "Are you an angel?"

Kat laughed, but not unkindly. "I get that all the time."

She increased her efforts. Her vaginal muscles worked him furiously and her tail explored the sensitive spots between his legs. She had to be careful now. 

He was so close. So close. She could feel him trembling, mind and body careening down different paths.

Her eyes glowed hotly as she observed him. Gleaming ivory horns materialized at the top of her head.

His cock spasmed. "I get that all the time," she repeated. "I'm really the opposite."

She impaled herself viciously upon him, a dark angel. She saw the awareness of her true nature dawn on him. Horror mingled with the height of arousal. He came in hot spurts that warmed Kat from the inside. She drank him in, his cum, the energy of his confusion, the passion and the terror. He filled her and she drank it up.

He tried to climb out from under her even as he spurted the last of his seed into her.

She restrained him a moment longer, feeling his dying pulses within her, lapping up his energy. With some regret she stopped feeding and let him go. Kat had played him masterfully. She was sated. 

She furled her wings behind her and concentrated for a few moments. The horns and tail vanished, and the wings, so large in the narrow confines of the room, disappeared as though they had never been. She appeared before him as she had upon entering: small, knowing, and imminently desirable. 

Bryan had crawled off the bed and now cowered in a corner of the room. He flinched as she approached. Good, she thought. She hadn't pegged him as a violent one. 

"We won't see each other again," she said.

He watched her mutely, eyes wide.

"We had a good time, though, didn't we?" 

Nothing. Perhaps he was going into shock. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

"Don't worry. You aren't evil. You aren't going to hell. The fact that you aided and abetted the enemy stays strictly between us, okay? Unless, of course, you want to confess. But that's entirely up to you."

Bryan smiled slightly. His first sign of life.

Normally Kat would have left him after taking her fill, leaving him to construct walls of denial as best he could. Something made her stay, a desire to mitigate the damage. She thought of Damian.

"You won't be back?" asked Bryan quietly.

Kat shook her head sadly.

"Good." Bryan stood. "Get the fuck out of my room."

So much for sweetness, thought Kat. She grabbed her coat and left without a word.

Kat drove the streets of the sleeping town. Bryan's energy coursed through her, alive and intoxicating. Her route took her to a nondescript three-storey apartment block where Britt lived.

Kat had been able to extract the name of Damian's last encounter. Incubi generally guarded the identities of their victims, but Kat posed little risk as she did not compete with him. A quick search on the internet provided an address.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor and paused outside of Britt's apartment. The silence at this hour of the morning was oppressive. Kat projected widely and received the expected responses from all around her, except from Britt's apartment. 




Incubus Ch. 03



Lilly

I entered the lab, head down, and made my way over to my assigned lab table. My partner was already there. 

"Lilly! How are you?" Jerry greeted me, grinning and waving flamboyantly. 

I grimaced. "I've been better." 

Jerry's smile instantly vanished. "What's wrong?" 

I sighed. No way in hell could I tell him about the demon. No pun intended. "My dad's been drinking again. I'm really starting to worry about him."

"That sucks," Jerry said, frowning. "Any way I can help?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Sorry. I shouldn't dump my troubles on you like this." 

"Hey, if I can't help, the least I can do is listen, right?" Jerry said. "Need a hug?"

Wordlessly, I buried my head in Jerry's shoulder. He patted my back and made comforting noises. It was so tempting to tell him all of my troubles. But he would never believe me. 

I pulled away. Jerry gripped my shoulder. "Hey, can you make it through class today? If not, you could go home. I could tell the teacher you aren't feeling well." 

Go home? To the demon? Fat chance. "I'll be ok." 

Jerry shrugged. "As long as you're sure, 

And then the teacher entered. Class started, and I spent the next two hours in busy contemplation of a beaker and some test tubes. 

When it was over, Jerry and I began to clean our workstation. I did the scrubbing, both of the table and the glassware we had used, and he carefully packed away the chemistry apparatus. It was how we alway did it. I enjoyed the exacting work of getting everything perfectly clean, and Jerry didn't want to mess up his nail polish. 

This was the second class we'd been in together. The first one had been a lecture on introductory computer science we both took over the summer. I'd tutored him on the some of the more difficult aspects of what we were learning, and, after my mom had died, he'd tutored me. He was the reason I hadn't had to drop the class, and he said that my help was the only reason he'd passed. Combined with some shared interests, this had cemented our friendship. 

"So, kid, you want to hang out tonight?" asked Jerry. 

"Quit calling me kid. I'm only a few years younger than you," I complained. Jerry had spent a several years in the military before he began college. He was going to school on the GI bill. "And, sure, I'd love to hang out. Your place?" I didn't want to go home. 

"Queens is having karaoke night," Jerry said with a grin. 

I groaned. "You know I don't like clubs. They're too crowded." 

"So we'll show up early, and leave before the it gets too packed." Jerry winked. "They've got some pretty hot pole dancers." 

"I don't have anything to wear." I said. 

"You supply the shoes, and I'll get the dress," Jerry said. "You're not much shorter than me." 

"Your stuff is too glittery," I said, wrinkling my nose. 

"Then just wear what you've got on," Jerry said. "No one will stare, or anything. You get all sorts in Queens." 

I sighed. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?" 

"Nope. " Jerry confirmed. 

Estries

I peered through the window at my mistress from my perch up in a tree. This owl form was pretty much the smallest I could get. Hopefully, if my mistress spotted the bird, she wouldn't suspect it was me. 

She was chatting with her lab partner about going clubbing. I sighed inwardly. Clubs meant lots of people. More people meant more variables, making it harder to protect her. I also wasn't sure I could get in. I had no identification. I could materialize items, but could only keep them materialized if they were touching me, and complex things, like, say, a detailed driver's license, were hard to do. 

I wondered where one would go to acquire a fake license. Odds are someone on campus would know. Of course, the drinking age was 21, and Lilly was only 19. If she could get, I probably didn't need a license. 

Lilly was heading to the car now. I fretted a bit during the time she was out of my sight, and then sighed in relief as she exited the building. Lots of things liked to prey on untrained wizards. Other demons, for one, as well as the various other creatures that fed on magic. Then there were those who would use her powers for personal gain. My summoning would have shone like a beacon to anyone in the country who could sense magic. I wondered if Lilly realized she had painted a target on her back. Probably not. 

I wasn't sure how Lilly would react to me following her, and she couldn't do anything to defend herself anyways, so I had decided not to tell her about the danger she was in. It would only worry her. 

I left my perch silently, and trailed the car to what I presumed was her friend's apartment. Again, I watched at the window. It was nice to see Lilly laugh. An hour later, they left in her friend's car. 

The club itself was easy enough to get into. I wore a different human form, so Lilly wouldn't notice me. Without an ID, I just had to let them stamp my hand to tell the bartenders I couldn't drink. Inside, there were fewer people than I had feared. I enjoyed the deep, throbbing music, and watched the pole dancers a bit, but kept half an eye on Lilly. She talked to a few people she knew, and her friend teased her into taking the karaoke stage. I felt her stage fright through the bond as she sang, and her embarrassment at every fumbled lyric and wrong note. but she sounded pretty good. 

And here came trouble. I sensed him before he even entered the club. Another demon. Unbonded, as far as I could tell, so he was working for himself. Probably born on this mortal world, because, without a master, a non native demon would snap back to hell. This world was pretty far, metaphysically speaking, from the demonrealm. 

I intercepted him on the way across the bar. There was a moment where we sized each other up. Then the other demon deflated. 

"Yours?" he asked, looking down at his feet in a gesture of submission. 

"Mine," I confirmed.

"Of course," he replied. He looked at me calculatingly. "She has you pledged to serve her. I could help you with that."

I snorted. "I remain pledged at my own pleasure. She cannot command me." 

"Of course not," the other demon said, trying to make himself appear smaller. "Forget I asked. May I go?" 

I thought for a second. If he left, he would doubtlessly find another victim to feed upon, and probably kill. On the other hand, if I fought him, I would draw unwanted attention to myself, and, while I was certain I could win, the fight would weaken me, possibly allowing some other threat to get to my mistress. "Go," I told him. "And if I sense you near her again..." I trailed off threateningly. 

"You will not, I give you my word," said the other demon. Then he turned and fled. 

Lilly

True to his word, Jerry left with me before things got too crowded. By then I'd sung three times, and had enjoyed myself immensely, though I was harassed a bit by one drunken idiot who seemed to have come to the wrong bar. Jerry and his friends put a stop to that pretty quickly. The crowds, though, were starting to make me nervous. I was glad we were leaving. Jerry clapped me on the back. "Didn't I tell you we'd have fun?" he said to me. "It's more fun, of course, if you can drink, but fun even if you can't."

He winced slightly. "Mind going to get the car while I sit for a bit? These heels are killing me." He tossed me the keys. 

"You should have worn flats," I called back, laughing, as I headed toward the parking lot. 

A man seemed to be following me. Probably going to his own car, I told myself, but I quickened my pace. When he paused a row over from where we had parked to fumble with his keys, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

I gasped as the guy who had been harassing me earlier stepped out from behind a car. "You..." he slurred. "Why don't you come home with me?" 

"I don't think so," I said, trying to get Jerry's keys into the lock. I dropped them, and swore. 

"That's what all the woman say," then drunk complained. "But I'm a nice guy. Don't you think I'm a nice guy?" He stumbled toward me, inadvertently kicking the keys under the car. "It's women these days," he continued. "They like the bad boys. But I'm a nice guy. Don't you like nice guys?" By now, I was backed up against the car, cringing away from his bad breath. "Come on, just give me one kiss," he slurred, leaning forward. 

I heard a meaty thwack, and then the drunk stumbled sideways, the fell over, unconscious. It was the other guy, the one I had thought was following me. His eyes were glowing red. 

"You ok?" he asked. His eyes dimmed back to a normal color. 

"Ummm..." I stuttered. 

The man whose eyes had been glowing leaned toward me, frowning. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" 

"Your eyes," I stammered. "Your eyes were glowing." 

The man closed his eyes. "Shit."

I began to back away. "What, what are you?" 

The man sighed. "It's me. Estries." 

"Estries?" I wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or more frightened. 

"Yeah," he said. His featured shifted and blurred, and suddenly I was looking at the same face that had stared out at me through the pentagram that night. "Are you ok?" 

"I'm fine," I said. "What are you doing here?" My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Were you following me?" 

Estries sighed again. "Yes." 

"Why?" I asked, somewhere between scared and angry. 

"Because when you summoned me, you signaled everyone who could sense magic within 2000 miles.That's pretty much all of the US, and most of Mexico. Lots of nasty things are in that area. Lots of things that think a new wizard is worth controlling, or would make a tasty snack, " Estries explained

"I can take care of myself," I snapped. "And nothing has come after me so far."

"Not as much as I was expecting, I'll admit, but I had to head off a demon tonight," Estries said. 

"I didn't see a demon," I shot back. 

"That's because I didn't let him get anywhere near you," Estries replied with exaggerated patience. "And you can't sense demons like I can. Not yet, anyways." 

"Why wasn't there a fight, then?" I accused. 

"Demons can judge the power levels of other demons. This one was too weak to take me," Estries said, now obviously annoyed. "He chose to leave. Now, I'm sure Jerry is waiting for you to bring him his car. You should go." He shifted again, this time into an owl. The owl hooted, and then flew off. 

I sighed, and bent down to fish the keys out from under the car. 

Later that night, Estries opened the door to the house as I was pulling my keys out of my purse. I glared at him. "How do you get in and out without a key, anyways?" 

"You keep a spare outside your back door," Estries told me. "Under a rock. I just use that." 

I scowled. "No more following me, ok?" 

"I'm afraid I can't grant this request," Estries said. 

"That was an order!" I snapped. 

Estries's eyes narrowed. "Make me," he challenged. 

We stared at each other for a minute. Then I looked away. "You know I can't. Please?" 

"No. I will not compromise on matters involving your safety," Estries replied. 

"Did you at least search for my mother's killer?" I asked. 

"Yes," Estries said. He looked uncomfortable. "No results." He sighed. "Frankly, I'm starting to wonder if there will ever be results. Whoever it is shields very quickly every time I look. That means they have a way of sensing that I am watching, even while they are asleep, and are good at shielding. I don't see how I could counteract that." 

I felt like I was going to cry. "So all this? It was for nothing?" 

"Anita-" Estries began. 

"No! I had one thing I wanted you to do, one thing, and you can't do it!" I yelled. "Why did I even bother summoning you if you can't find who killed Mom?" Suddenly, I felt exhausted. "I'm going to bed." 

"Look, I'm sor-" Estries started to say.

I cut him off. "Leave me alone. Ok? If I can't get rid of you, at least leave me alone for awhile." 

Estries nodded, eyes downcast. "As you wish."

Estries

After my fight with Lilly, I decided to go for a walk around the block. Clear my head a bit. I wouldn't be going far enough to endanger her. If she woke up, I would know, and be back at the house in seconds. 

So she knew I was following her. Great. On one hand, I wouldn't have to hide from her anymore. On the other hand, it would definitely not help our relationship, or her peace of mind. I wished my eyes hadn't given me away in the parking lot. But, when I had seen that man practically on top of Lilly, and felt her fear, I had gotten angry, and, when I was angry enough, my eyes glowed red. It wasn't something I could really control. And, once she had seen that, it was better to just confess. She would have figured out it was me soon enough. 

I felt Lilly stir in her sleep. She awoke briefly, and then drifted off again. 

As for my inability to find her mother's killer, well, that was just humiliating. I wished I had chosen a better time to tell her about my failure. I wished I could have succeeded. Enacting vengeance on her mother's murderer would have gone a long way toward mending my relationship with Lilly. However, it was an impossible task. The killer was just too quick. Maybe when Lilly was a more skilled wizard, we could- 

Suddenly I couldn't feel Lilly. At all. She had gone from sleeping soundly to not there in an instant. I raced toward the house, hoping I was not too late. 

When I got to the house, I didn't bother with the keys. I just busted down the door. Lilly was not in her room. She was not in any other room. She was not in the backyard. 

Ok, Estries, I thought. Calm down. What do you sense? What do you smell? Aside from a distinct lack of Lilly. I took a deep breath in through my nose. I could smell... 

Vampire. I could smell vampire. And another, a human male, one the vampire frequently fed on, by the smell of him. The scent was stronger in Lilly's room than in any other room in the house. And, now that I was looking for it, I sense the remains of a spell on the window. 

So. They had entered through the window, probably using an unlocking spell. The man I could smell was doubtlessly a wizard, because vampires couldn't work magic. When Lilly woke up, the vampire had put her back to sleep, and carried her out the window.I followed the trail of their scent outside. 

It ended in a tangle of magic right next to a curb, and I could smell exhaust from a car. They appeared to have spelled their car to block Lilly's magical signature. It must have also been spelled silent and invisible, or I would have seen or heard it leaving as I arrived. 

I closed my eyes, and reached out with my mind, trying to find the wizard who had cast the spell that had hidden Lilly. He must have been inside the shield, too, because I couldn't sense him. I opened my eyes, growling in frustration. 

If I was close enough, I could sense the shielding spell itself. However, I would need to be practically on top of it. The whole purpose of this kind of shield was to block the magical signatures of those inside it, so it would be counterproductive if the spell itself was too easy to sense. I would have to search the entire city, block by block, to find it. 

This had been a good, clean job. From an assetic point of view, I could admire the planning and magical skill it had taken. From a personal point of view, however, I was angry. And very, very worried. 

Lilly

I woke suddenly, heart pounding, to see someone bending over me in the dark. My scream was abruptly cut off by a hand over my mouth. "Go back to sleep," green eyes ordered, and I found myself obeying.

When I woke the second time, I was most definitely not in my room. My wrists were cuffed to the ceiling, and my legs were spread wide, and cuffed to the floor. I was naked, and there was a collar around my neck. I struggled, to no effect. 

"Don't bother," said a cold voice, and a man walked into my limited frame of vision. He was tall and thin, his hair was dark brown, and his eyes were an eerie shade of green. "You can't get loose. And even if you did," he smiled, "you wouldn't get far. Don't bother with your magic, either. The collar blocks it."

"Who are you?" I asked. "Where am I?"

"I am the vampire Denadren. As for where you are," he said as he leaned over me, his grin showing sharp white teeth, "I don't mean to tell you."

"Any possibility of you letting me go?" I asked, resigned to the probable answer.

"No."

Well, that was just great. I tested the cuffs again. Not an inch of give.

"I bet you're wondering why I brought you here," said the vampire, eyes unnaturally bright in the dim light of the single bulb in the room.

"Not really," I answered.

The vampire raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I'm tied up, naked, in a dimly lit room that looks like someone's basement," I snapped. "I think I can guess what you're planning to do with me."

He smiled. "I may be planning on fucking to you, but that is not why you are here."

The silence stretched, and lengthened. Finally the vampire Denadren snapped, "Don't you want to know?"

"Not really," I said. "So you can just go fuck yourself." Now, Estries could track me, right? He could track any wizard once he'd gotten the scent of their magic. He'd come rescue me. Except, I realized, I had no idea if he could overcome the vampire.

I heard footsteps. It sounded like they were coming down stairs. "Master?" called a soft voice. "I've checked the shields. They are in place."

I turned my head as far as I could to see a very pale, sickly looking young man, who was staring at the vampire as though hypnotized.

"Very good, Dmitri," said the vampire with obvious approval. He glanced sideways at me. "Your demon will never find you with the shields blocking your power. Not that he'll look too hard, I think. Demons are not known for their loyalty. Though, I suppose, since you are necessary for his continued link to this world, he might trouble himself." He smiled, as though at a particularly dull student who had somehow gotten the right answer. "It was brilliant of you to have him watching you like that. It made it very difficult to get ahold of you. If your home security wasn't so dreadfully lax, I wouldn't have managed it." He stroked my cheek in a parody of intimacy. "I'm glad I have," he told me. "You are an almost perfect specimen, even if you are a bit fat."

Perfect specimen? What was he planning on doing with me? Other than the obvious, of course.

As if he was reading my mind, or more likely, just liked the sound of his own voice, the vampire told me. "You know, of course, that I, as a vampire, drink blood. What you may not know is that, the more I drink from a person, the more they come under my control. Instead of just being open to my compulsion, they hang on to my every word. Much like young Dmitri here." He gestured to the young man, who was now drooling a little. "That's what I have planned for you, my sweet Lilly of the valley. You will be my slave, my willing tool, in heart, mind, and soul." He gave me a self satisfied smile. "Your magic will be enormously useful in my acquisition of power, and your body, fat as it is, will provide myself and Dmitri with... Other pleasures. Of course, I don't want to kill you, sweet Lilly, so the transformation will take time. Seven days. Don't worry, I will keep you... Entertained."

I didn't like the sound of that, any of it. I had to get loose. Somehow.

"And now, I think, it is time for the first feeding." The vampire Denadren leaned forward his breath warm against my neck. Fangs brushed against my soft, vulnerable skin.

I spat on him. It was the only thing I could think of to do. Luckily, it worked. The vampire jerked back, hissing.

"Dmitri!" he spat.

"Yes, master?"

"Gag her!" the vampire ordered. "And bring the riding crop. I think she has earned," he smiled unpleasantly, "punishment."




Incubus Ch. 03



I refused to open my mouth. Dmitri just stood there, staring stupidly and holding the ball gag, until the vampire sighed and took it. He held my nose until I was forced to take a breath in through my mouth, and then he forced the gag in. It was almost too large for my mouth. My jaw ached. 

The vampire raised the crop. One smack. Two. Three. By five, my butt began to ache. By ten, I was sure it was as red as a valentine heart. And still the vampire kept going. Finally, he seemed satisfied. My butt was one solid mass of pain. A trickle of blood ran down the back of my legs. 

"And now," said the vampire, "It's time to start making you mine."

He grabbed me by the hair and bent down over my neck. There was no teasing this time, no brushing of the fangs against my skin. The teeth went straight in, and they went in hard. I moaned in pain, and then moaned again at a sudden rush of pleasure. It felt fantastic, not like my first night with Estries, but like a drug, dulling my senses and releasing the endorphins in a heady rush. I found I didn't care what the vampire did to me, as long as I could keep feeling this good. But the pain in my ass was distracting, grounding me in reality. Was that a flash of jealousy across Dmitri's face?

And then it was over. The vampire's teeth slid out of my neck far more gently than they'd slid in. He looked ecstatic, on top of the world. I felt mostly felt dull and happy in a placid sort of way. The feeling swiftly faded away, leaving nothing but pain. 

The vampire pulled out what I recognized as an electric massager. What was he going to do with that, I wondered. Then he lined up the business end with my crotch. Oh.

Dmitri brought over a harness, and they hooked me in with the vibrating part over my clit. Then the vampire shoved something phallic roughly into my pussy. I winced. Estries was a lot gentler, I thought. I wished he was here. 

"I prefer these," the vampire said, "because they have electrical cords, not batteries. Batteries have a habit of running out at the most inopportune moment, don't they? Like six hours into the day, just as you're coming up on your seventh orgasm..." He smiled wickedly. "You don't mind if I leave you like this for awhile, do you?"

"Nmmmph!" I protested through the gag.

"Good. Dmitri," the vampire said, eyes flashing, "Plug them in."

The vibration started the second the plugs entered the socket. It was pretty intense. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the growing burning in my clit. Don't leave me like this, I silently pleaded. Don't leave me!

But it was too late. The vampire and Dmitri climbed the stairs, and the lights snapped off, leaving me alone in the dark with my unwanted lust.



Incubus Ch. 03



Kat sent a focussed projection into the apartment and determined that Britt was indeed within. 

Unexpectedly, Britt returned nothing. No tone. No whisper of reply.

It was as though she were alive but hollow. 

Her hollowness terrified Kat. What had Damian done to her? That Damian could discern nothing beyond Britt's absence of tone was equally devastating. The two were obviously bound in ways Kat could not understand.

There was little point in confronting Britt. A piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, but the overall picture was as murky as before.

Kat drove home, having lost the euphoria that normally accompanied a good feeding. She felt badly about Bryan, but he'd get over it. He'd tasted the forbidden fruit and for him there would be no going back. Score one for the forces of evil. A sinner was born.

Instead, her mind turned to the problem of Damian and Britt. Kat was clearly ill-equipped to deal with what ailed them. Nothing in all of her experience prepared her for this. Unfortunately, the demon community featured nothing in the way of doctors or medical information lines.

When Kat returned to the farmhouse, she checked on Damian. He lay on a rumpled bed, not bothering to hide his horns and tail.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"I called, but no one answered," he said jokingly. "No pie for me, pizza or otherwise."

Kat caressed his face and gently kissed his lips. 

"We have to do something," she said.

Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes. Demon tears. Who would have thought?

"Give me something to work with," she insisted.

"I wish I could, Kat. I really do."

They remained silent for several minutes. She stroked his face and ran her long fingers through his hair. The sun rose over the horizon. A new day. 

"It almost as though we were feeding each other," said Damian sleepily. "Britt and I."

Kat stroked his proud horns and ran her hand down to his cheek. With demons, feeding was a one-way street. Demons fed no one. 

Unless...

Kat sat upright.

"What's wrong?" asked Damian.

People fed demons. Demons didn't feed people. 

Could it be?

Kat stood abruptly.

"Kat?"

But Kat had fled the room. There was work to be done.

***

Kat closed the door to the study and sat at the heavy oak desk. She started the computer and stared at the blank screen.

Despite the lack of community, demons still managed to keep in touch, but at a pace that the modern world would have found infuriating. Unlike the modern world, demons had patience and time. 

The internet had made it possible for demons to find each other when they wanted to be found, to exchange stories, to disseminate information. Their communications were subtle, usually in the form of anonymous stories posted on the Web, featuring a smattering of keywords that only had particular meaning to other demons and those few humans who fancied themselves demonologists. Amateur literary sites were a boon to incubi and succubi, for in this forum they could not only promote their myth, but communicate with others of their ilk.

Kat typed a few words. The story would be a veiled query to the demon community, describing the liaison between an incubus and a mysterious woman, whereupon both grew sick. 

Hopefully, someone would read the story and recognize the problem. Kat needed a diagnosis. Damian and Britt needed a cure.

Kat typed more quickly now, documenting what little she knew and filling in the gaps with erotic detail. 

She thought briefly of Bryan, his energy that permeated her, and then banished him from her mind.

The sun rode high in the sky when she finished the story. She then set about adding certain markers that would identify the story as demon-authored. 

She re-read it, adding detail and fixing grammar. Demons could sometimes be the worst critics.

Finally, she was ready to post the story. She added the expected keywords, and then added "De civitate dei", "morbus", and "Sinistrari".

She clicked Submit and sat back. 

There was nothing she could do but wait. 



Incubus Ch. 04



Kat disengaged from the sleeping seminary student. He whimpered as he rolled over. Her visit would be dimly remembered as a dream. His sheets would bear testimony to it and he would pray with extra zeal to be delivered from the torments of the flesh. Possibly he would never learn of having been visited by a succubus. 

She kissed him on the forehead, nodded to the crucifix over the door, and slipped out of his room.

Kat made her way to Britt's apartment and slipped into it as she had the last three mornings. The girl in the bed looked even more ill than she had the day before.

Kat manoeuvred around the sleeping form, doing what she could to make Britt more comfortable. She felt Damian projecting to Britt, a sudden concentrated wave of hunger and yearning. The hair stood up on the back of her neck. She felt a pang of guilt, as though she were eavesdropping on an intimate conversation. Britt writhed on the bed, tormented, but not a whisper of response returned to Damian.

Kat exited the apartment, furious at her helplessness. 

She returned home just as Damian emerged from the forest that bordered the edge of the farm. He had taken to disappearing from sundown to sunrise, as though his absence from the farm would disguise the fact that he was not hunting. With each passing day, he grew fainter and more lethargic.

"You're not eating," Kat said.

"Don't worry, mom," Damian replied with a weak smile as he passed her.

"I do worry," Kat said, just like a mother.

It was infuriating. 

Three days after posting the story, Kat received anonymous feedback that consisted of instructions to contact someone through Skype, followed by a name and a local time.

Kat paced the study in the farmhouse, impatiently watching the morning sun creep across the hardwood floor.

At the appointed time, she made the call. Her fingers tapped a nervous tattoo on the oak desk as her call went unanswered. Posting a story on the internet had been a long shot. The chances that another demon would notice it and recognize it for what it was -- a desperate plea for help -- were ridiculously small. Her heart fell as the computer continued to emit monotonous beeps. Even if the story were noticed, what were the chances that another demon would be able to help her? Next to none. She would have given anything for a health handbook for the ailing demon. 

Kat nearly jumped from her chair when she heard a voice from her laptop. "Hello?"

"Forgive my delay. I trust I am speaking to the author of the story?"

"Yes you are. Thank you for contacting me so soon," said Kat.

"You tell a fascinating tale, if a little over the top sexually."

"Sorry. I was in a hurry."

"It's nothing to apologize for. I'm quite a fan of exaggerated sexual exploits, for an old lady."

"Would you like to go to video?"

"Yes."

The woman who appeared on Kat's screen was stunningly beautiful and far from old. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, wore her hair in an up-do that was reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn's in Breakfast at Tiffany's. She had porcelain skin and refined features that no rural internet connection could diminish. She wore an elegant strapless black dress and a string of pearls around her neck. It looked as though she were about to attend a premiere at the theater.

"I'm sorry if I'm keeping you from something," said Kat.

"It's of no matter. I suppose introductions are in order. I am Isabel d'Avignon," said the woman, employing the ancient demonic practice of identifying the geographical area of their earliest circle of influence.

D'Avignon, thought Kat with some astonishment. Her story had been caught up in of one of the oldest branches of the family tree.

"I'm honored," said Kat, inclining her head. 

Isabel smiled faintly.

"Katarina von Regensburg," Kat then said, reluctantly using the same convention. "But please call me Kat."

"Regensburg. I haven't heard that name for a long time. But of course, you were among those sent to the new world."

"That was a long time ago."

"Yes it was," said Isabel sadly. "But we have more pressing matters to discuss, do we not?"

"I'm afraid so."

"When this is over, I would like to have the opportunity to speak with more leisure. As it is, I have read your tale with interest, Kat."

"Thank you."

"Let me see if I understand then..." Isabel encapsulated the problem quickly and succinctly. Kat added a detail here and there, but Isabel appeared to grasp the issue with surprising intuitiveness. 

"It puts me in mind of a similar situation -- one that occurred in Prague in the middle of the nineteenth century," said Isabel.

"As long ago as that? I hadn't heard of it."

"Communication was far more sporadic and difficult then, no? Particularly for those who were banished?"

Kat regarded Isabel and pressed her lips together, refusing to rise to the dig.

"Let me ask you something," continued Isabel. "Are you and the incubus bonded?"

"I wear his ring. Yes."

"Good. That makes matters much easier. May I ask his name?"

"He is Damian... of Pannonia."

Isabel closed her eyes. "Another name from the past. A powerful, ancient branch. Any more names such as these and I shall become maudlin. It is fortunate that you and he are together. I don't think the matter can be resolved without the involvement of another member of his circle."

"What can you tell me of his ailment?"

Concern etched Isabel's fine features. "This girl, I believe, responded to Damian in a unique tone, something that distinguished itself from all the others and proved irresistible to Damian. It is impossible to know. What I suspect, though, is that this girl possesses within her something latently demonic. What has lain dormant has now been awakened under Damian's attentions. It's very rare, but has happened in the past. It would explain the unique power of this girl to feed and ensnare him.

"Our few historical precedents tell us that the demonic will grow within her. She still possesses the human attributes that attracted him, yet he is now also repelled by that which he has awakened. And she, poor thing, is intimately connected with a being with whom no long-term intimacy can be achieved. I'm sorry if I'm sounding a bit like a psychoanalyst, but it appears that we have a paradox. Each is simultaneously attracted and repelled by the other to the exclusion of all else. The paradox has essentially trapped them, precluding any other normal relations. I'm afraid that without intervention, the paradox will strengthen until it ultimately consumes them."

Kat shook her head. "You say that she carries with her the demonic. How can this be?" Kat had her suspicions, but needed confirmation.

"Forgive me. I have the advantage of knowing precedent." Isabel explained herself more fully.

"Oh, God," whispered Kat when Isabel had finished.

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "God cannot help them, but you can. You must act quickly."

Shortly after the conversation with Isabel, Kat debated waking Damian and telling him of what she had learned. Instead, she jumped into her Range Rover and made her way directly to Britt's apartment. 

Kat paused at Britt's door and determined that Britt was sleeping despite the fact that it was almost noon. She slipped easily into the apartment and stopped at the doorway to the bedroom. There, on the bed, a sheet wound serpent-like around her naked body, lay Britt in a tight foetal ball. Her pallid skin shone with perspiration and she shivered uncontrollably. 

Kat searched the medicine cabinet and returned with some pills and a glass of water. She sat on the edge of the bed and roused Britt enough to get the medicine into her. Britt moaned deliriously. With a cool compress, she wiped Britt down. Britt emanated heat like an oven. Kat ran the cool clother over her forehead and arms. At her chest, Kat stopped when she saw the ring that pierced Britt's right nipple. Damian's ring. She wiped it and the creamy flesh against which it lay, then bent and lightly kissed it. She rinsed the cloth and ran it down the length of Britt's lean torso.

Britt quieted after several minutes and finally fell into a listless sleep. 

Kat's thoughts returned to her conversation with Isabel.

"You said that it reminds you of another situation."

Isabel hesitated. "Yes. I stress that it was similar. Unfortunately, there was no happy ending."

"They died?"

"Yes."

"So what's different with this situation?"

"You. You are the difference, Kat."

"I don't understand."

Isabel explained patiently, answering Kat's increasingly agitated questions. Isabel's knowledge of demon lore was encyclopaedic and she was able to piece together a course of treatment that, in theory, would cure both Britt and Damian. "But don't forget," concluded Isabel, "your situation is unprecedented. For the life of me, I can't think of any other approach."

"Nor can I," said Kat. But I'll try, she thought.

"At any rate, I must go. Please keep me apprised of developments. There are so few of us left in the world," she concluded wistfully.

Kat thanked her and broke the connection. 

Kat observed the sleeping form of Britt. It was now past four in the afternoon. She had continued her efforts at cooling Britt's overheated body. Despite Britt's weakened state, Kat sensed the inherent strength beneath her beauty and could understand what Damian had seen in her. 

Britt stirred and opened an eye. Kat looked closely and observed that Britt's gaze was clear and intelligent, if a bit tired.

"You're awake."

"You must be the gentle hand that caressed me in my sleep," said Britt weakly.

Kat laughed. She lifted Britt's head off the pillow and pressed a cup to her lips. "Drink. You've been very ill."

When her head returned to the pillow, Britt asked, "Do I have you to thank for returning me to the land of the living?"

"Yes."

"You must be my guardian angel."

"I doubt that. I'm Kat."

"Kat? I don't know you." Britt spoke without alarm at the notion of a stranger in her apartment.

Kat hesitated. She could dissemble, but time was of the essence. "I'm Damian's friend. His consort."

Britt turned the word over in her mind. "Consort? Is that some kind of euphemism for lover or wife?"

"No." 

The silence lengthened between them. "There's more, isn't there?"

Kat took a deep breath. "You know Damian's true nature, do you not?"

"He's a demon; an incubus. And he knows how to screw up a girl's life."

"Yes to all of it. And I'm a succubus."

Britt closed her eyes and groaned. "Oh great. I seem to be a regular demon magnet."

"Based on the evidence, I have to agree. You are a demon magnet. Unfortunately, because of it, Damian is dying."

Britt's eyes opened wide and her exhaustion fell away. "What? That's impossible. I hear him calling me now, but I never used to hear him before. He used to blame me for calling him. Now I can hear him calling me, but it's as though he's speaking through cotton wool."

"And you never thought it unusual, that you could hear him calling you?" asked Kat.

Britt responded with impatience. "I've been sick and haven't been thinking at all. Besides, after the past few weeks, I wouldn't recognize unusual if it slapped me in the face."

Kat nodded. "You're right -- he is calling you. You shouldn't be able to hear him, though. Not consciously, at least. Unfortunately, his calls aren't reaching anyone else. They're focussed on you and no one else. As a result, he's unable to find sustenance. In short, he's starving."

"What can I do? I can feed him, can't I?"

"No, you can't. Otherwise he'd be here right now and he wouldn't be sick."

"I don't understand," said Britt.

"I'm sorry that I'm burdening you with this when you're unwell, but it's important. You are connected with Damian, and it's certain that your illness and his are connected as well. I suspect that your cures may be connected too."

"But I'm feeling better now," Britt protested.

"You're not cured. I've masked some of your symptoms, but believe me, you're not out of the woods."

Britt seemed to fold in on herself.

"I can help you," said Kat, placing a hand on Britt's shoulder.

Britt shook it off. "You? I think I've had enough help from demons to last me a lifetime."

Kat got up and paced the room. "I noticed that you wear his ring."

Britt sat up in bed. The sheet slipped down, revealing the ring in question. Britt quickly covered herself and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.

"I didn't ask for it."

Kat ignored her. "Even early in your... relationship, Damian saw something in you."

"If he wants it back, he can come and get it." Even as the words left her lips, Britt had to acknowledge that she couldn't bear to lose the ring.

"He was protecting you from others like himself. He was marking you as his."

"As in his property?" asked Britt incredulously, her anger rising.

"As in someone he cares about and wants to protect."

Britt's mouth opened and closed without making a sound.

"Take a shower and pack a bag. We're leaving in twenty minutes," said Kat, exiting the bedroom.

"Did I say I would go with you?"

"No. But you will," said Kat as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Britt sat in the Range Rover's passenger seat, small and pale. Her hair hung in damp chestnut waves that cascaded to her shoulders. She looked at the passing scenery for a moment. The setting sun cast long shadows across the road. Britt then closed her eyes and allowed her forehead to bump against the window. 

"This is crazy," said Britt. 

"What is?"

"This. Everything. Last week, I was an obscure grad student writing papers on obscure dead poets, and now I'm embroiled with demon nymphos. I must be nuts."

"Surely you don't doubt who we say we are, do you?"

Britt unconsciously pressed a forearm against the breast on which she wore Damian's ring. "I did, but I don't any more. No, I don't doubt you, and that's what worries me. Any sane person would. If you would have told me a week ago that I would be in the company of demons...." She shook her head again.

Soon they were out of the city, driving north through agricultural land.

Kat felt genuinely sorry for Britt. She had been forced to accept the unthinkable in an impossibly short period of time. Her life as she knew it had been turned upside down. And it was only going to get worse.

A violent fit of trembling wracked Britt's slight frame. Kat looked at her with concern and placed a hand on Britt's lap. She imagined the battle taking place within her. The trembling soon stopped.

"So what's it like, being a succubus?" asked Britt.

"A succubus? It's kind of like being Satan's whore."

Britt started visibly at the Kat's bluntness.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I guess I'm a little stressed." asked Kat. "Actually, Satan's whore isn't quite right, though it does have a nice ring to it." Kat drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Finally, she said, "Satan didn't really create us; you did."

Britt gave her a startled, uncomprehending look.

"When I say you, I mean humanity in general. You created us because we were convenient and more palatable than the alternative. You created us to explain the pregnant, unwed serf. You created us to explain the abused daughter who'd been serially fucked by her drunken father. You created us to assuage the discomfort brought about by blatant sexuality in times of puritanism. Mankind created us to explain all of these things and more. Why would anyone be surprised when Satan put some flesh on the bones and set us loose?"

Britt stared at her in disbelief.

Kat laughed. "Is that so hard to believe? In a world that creates miracles from coincidence and sees Jesus on a piece of toast, is it so hard to believe in us?" 

"If you put it that way...."

"Honestly, though, we're no big deal as far as demons go. We're the simple foot soldiers of sin. In the pantheon of demons, we're barely worth a mention. Our teeny capacity to lead folks astray is nothing compared to what humanity is capable of doing all by itself without any help from us."

"So why are you here?"

"That's the rub, isn't it? The meaning of life. To tell you the truth, I think we're still here partly because you still need us, and partly because we amuse our master. He still looks in on us from time to time, you know. He's a bit of a voyeur that way. Of late, of course, he has left us pretty much alone. He's had bigger fish to fry. That being said, if we reduce the number of young people going to church and dilute the sanctity of the confessional by unleashing an endless stream of repeat offenders, he's content."

Britt was about to ask a question when Kat continued. "For some reason, our master has a soft spot for us. He gives us quite a bit of latitude to go beyond our original mandate, if you can call it that. For example, I used to enjoy visiting the father who had raped his daughter and blamed it on us. Couldn't be a loving father, so it had to be an incubus! Imagine his surprise when I'd appear in the flesh like a wrathful avenging demon. I would feed on him, though he wasn't at all to my taste." Kat laughed bitterly. "It certainly taught him about taking master's name in vain. He never again touched any of his daughters though."

"Was your master angry?" asked Britt.

"You'd think that he would be, with us retaliating against sinners, but strangely he wasn't. Perhaps because it built up our cred, instilled fear, added meat to the myth. Perhaps because we did our honest work so well."

"So you did good occasionally, by punishing sinners?" asked Britt.

Kat turned to Britt. "Shh. Not so loud; he might hear." The joking undertone only barely hid the apprehension.

"You make him sound almost sympathetic."

Kat spoke through clenched teeth. "No. He's evil through and through and is capable of ghastly atrocities. But in the same way that the merciful Lord is capable of wrath, our master is capable of unspeakable horror and occasional justice. We're here because he still tolerates us. We can never forget that we are here at his discretion and could end it for us at any time."

They drove in silence for several minutes. Finally, Britt uttered the question that Kat had been expecting all along.

"What are we going to do about Damian?" asked Britt.

Kat hesitated and rejoiced that Britt had used the word 'we'. This was a part of the conversation that she had to handle carefully. "I can give you some of myself so that you can heal him. I will share him and myself with you."

"Share him with me? You can have him. I'll renounce my claim on him."

Kat shook her head. "You know better than that. Demons don't mix with demons. Besides, you are bound to him. You wear his ring."

"I never asked for it."

"Once you met each other, there was no other way."

Britt groaned in frustration. "I hate this. I don't understand what's going on..."

"I feel for you, Britt. In a similar situation, I would feel the same way. I myself don't know all of the details, but I know that we both have to sacrifice part of ourselves for him."

"There's no other option?

"If we don't, he will cease to be, as will you. I'm doing it because I love him." 

The statement hung in the air. Kat didn't mean to reveal this much and risk creating an adversarial relationship with the girl she needed as an ally.

"I love him too," said Britt quickly. Kat saw the surprise that registered on Britt's face.

The two women regarded the other. Neither flinched. 

"You love him? Really?" prodded Kat. "Or do you love his effect on you? Think carefully on this, because if you join me in saving him, not only will you be bound to him even more closely, but you will also be bound to me."

Britt closed her eyes. "I still don't understand any of this."

Kat remained silent for several minutes, deep in thought. Finally, she asked, "What do you know of your mother?"




Incubus Ch. 04



Britt was momentarily distracted by the question. "She died when I was a newborn. I never knew her."

Kat nodded as though the information confirmed something.

"What does my mother have to do with this?"

Kat waved the question aside. "I'm afraid your ancestry is why you can't sustain Damian."

"My ancestry?"

Kat pursed her lips and remained silent for several long minutes. Finally she said, "Because you're one of us."

Britt felt a chill to her core.

"You're a halfling, a cambion." 

"A what?"

"As far as we can tell, your father was an incubus."

* * *

Britt spent the rest of the drive in a dazed silence. A cambion. She tried to wrap her head around it.

She had been raised by her grandparents after her mother's death in a car accident. Britt had long wondered at the absence of photographs of her father and that he was never spoken of. She had grown up with a sense of otherness that her domestic situation didn't explain. Orphaned, being raised by her grandparents, attractive in a way that intimidated the boys and aroused jealousy in the girls, she grew up into someone who existed on the margins of any social circle that tolerated her. With Kat's revelation, something clicked into place. Instinctively, she knew that Kat spoke the truth. Her mother had taken the secret of Britt's father to her grave. Until now.

"...and that's why you can't sustain him -- the demonic part of you has awakened. It's Damian's misfortune that he found you. Unfortunately, now that you're bound, he can't fulfill his role. He's fixated on you and you attract his projections."

Britt finally found her voice. "Can I stop? I'm sure you can help me stop."

"You've tried not thinking about him, right? And you know that you can't not think about something."

They turned off the gravel road and onto narrow path that was concealed within a screen of trees. They emerged into a clearing in which a farmhouse sat, lit by the golden rays of the setting sun. The farmhouse appeared to be well over one hundred years old. It was built of stone and a covered porch ran the length of the building's face. Dark red shutters flanked the windows on the ground and upper floors and two small triangular windows appeared just below the apex of the roof on either side of the chimney.

To the left of the house stood a barn and a large shed, to the right a dense forest. 

"Welcome to our home," said Kat.

Britt said nothing, but had to shake her head at the incongruity of demons calling this bucolic setting home. 

They entered the house, which echoed with the sounds of Kat's heels on the stone floor.

"Where's Damian?" she asked.

Kat listened for a moment. "He's on the grounds somewhere. He usually comes back by sunrise."

Britt stood uncertainly in the threshold as the upheaval of the last few weeks bore down on her. She was a cambion. She turned the concept over in her mind. Perhaps it explained the explosiveness of her few meetings with Damian, her irrational desire for him. She wondered whether her mother's own demon lover had instilled in her these same feelings. For the first time in her life, she felt a connection with her mother. Both had been caught up in a world in which they did not belong. Had she given herself willingly or had she been coerced? Who was her father? Was there a connection between their relationship and her death? Britt felt a chill. Her mother was Britt's age when she had died. What were the circumstances? Was Britt herself on the same road?

Kat dropped her bag on a table by the front door and wrapped an arm around Britt's shoulders. "Worrying won't help anything."

How can I not? Britt thought. 

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Britt shook her head. She wandered to a livingroom furnished with what her untrained eye recognized as priceless antiques. She curled up in a leather armchair and wrapped her arms around her legs. She felt like an awkward child next to the unconscious elegance of Kat. One more way in which she was way out of her element.

"Look around. Make yourself at home. Help yourself to whatever you want. I'm going upstairs. I need to prepare for when Damian returns."

"Do I need to do anything?" asked Britt apprehensively.

Kat thought for a moment. "I don't know. There's no playbook for what we're about to do. You can join me or stay here, as you wish. I won't be long."

Britt opted to stay where she was, grateful for some privacy and the time to work through what she'd learned.

After what seemed to be more than half an hour of listening to the old farmhouse settling onto its foundations for the night, Britt rose and tentatively climbed the stairs. More than anything, she needed the comfort of another, even if that other was a succubus. 

The hallway was dark but for a sliver of light seeping out from the edge of a door that was ajar.

She knocked tentatively but received no answer.

With her fingertips she pushed the door open.

It was a spacious bedroom, complete with a massive canopy bed and ancient furnishings and rugs. But it was not the room that drew Britt's attention.

Kat stood naked in the middle of the bedroom, arms outstretched and head thrown back. She glowed with an impossible inner light that radiated raw power and beauty. Gleaming white wings stretched out on either side of her, as wide as she was tall, the thin membrane rippling in unseen breezes. Her ample breasts rose and fell in time with her steady breathing. She was lean and perfect. Her taut midsection moved shallowly beneath the vault of her ribs. Toned legs, slightly apart, descended from a pubic crown from which a golden ring glittered.

Britt's breath caught in her chest. Kat appeared to be every inch an angel. 

She shattered the illusion by levelling her gaze at Britt, revealing a pair of ivory horns that spiralled up from the crown of her head to rounded points. A tail appeared from behind. It wound itself around her torso, sliding in a seductive caress from her breast to the curve of her hip.

Britt forgot her sickness and her heart ached at the singular beauty before her.

Kat smiled and rather than feeling dread, Britt's heart soared. She belonged here.

Britt approached slowly and entered the aura of light that surrounded the succubus. She immediately felt warmth, comfort, and peace. The disquiet of the last few weeks fell away and the churning of her insides stilled.

Kat placed her hands on Britt's shoulders and gazed into her eyes. Her hands slid down Britt's arms to the hem of her sweater. Britt lifted her arms in invitation and the sweater rose and was discarded. Her pants and undergarments followed, and soon Britt stood before Kat, naked and surprisingly unashamed.

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the succubus. Kat's wings closed elegantly around her, a cocoon of wing and flesh. They stood, breast to breast, the length of their bodies touching. Of their own accord, Britt's hands wound around Kat's waist and slid up until they nestled between her back and wings.

I could melt here. The thought drifted through Britt's consciousness and was gone. 

"Are you okay?"

Mmm.

"There's a cure," whispered Kat. "For you and Damian."

"Uh-huh?"

Kat hesitated. 

"What is it?"

Kat loosened her grip on Britt and whispered into her ear. "This isn't an easy thing, Britt. You need to allow him to take you."

"He already has," said Britt, flashing back to that afternoon in her office, the passion, the heat. His hasty departure when....

"You mean?"

Kat nodded.

"I saw what it did. It burned holes in my desk."

"I can help. I can mitigate the effects. I can dilute it."

Britt cringed. Dilution wasn't the same as negation. "How? What's involved?"

Kat closed her eyes and said nothing while her fingers traced the rise on either side of Britt's spine. Britt wondered how much Kat wasn't telling her. "You'll be bound to me," said Kat finally.

There was more. Britt could tell. "What else?"

"You'll lose some of the things that make you human...."

"Huh?"

"But you'll gain some things too," continued Kat. "A longer life, resistance to disease...."

"A tail?"

"No," said Kat.

"Horns?"

"No."

"Good."

"And some aptitudes that have lain dormant may awaken."

"Like what?"

"There's no way of knowing."

Britt held firmly to Kat, comforted by her warmth in the coldness of what confronted her.

"So what will I lose?"

Kat hesitated, biting her lip. "You'll never have a family, for example."

Britt's mind reeled. A family had never factored into her vision of the future, but having the choice taken away was another matter.

"Please understand, your dual nature would likely result in... unpredictable children. That you grew into a balanced, healthy woman is itself a miracle."

"So not having children qualifies as what? A blessing?"

"In a word, yes." 

Kat's hands stroked Britt's flanks and something -- Kat's tail perhaps -- slid lightly up the inside of Britt's thigh. 

They stood cocooned for several long minutes, taking unhurried comfort in their closeness. 

She turned the thought around in her mind. The notion of foregoing parenthood did not trouble her as much as that of being bound to Kat and Damian. What would that life be like?

"There's no option, is there?" asked Britt.

"No."

Britt turned her head to the smoothness of Kat's neck and lightly brushed her lips against the skin. She hadn't been planning to do anything of the sort, but it felt right. 

"How can you mitigate the effects?"

Kat's wings and arms released their hold on Britt slightly and Britt leaned back. 

"You know," Kat whispered.

I don't know anything, thought Britt. She nuzzled in more closely and her hands trailed down Kat's strong back to the perfect curve of her buttocks. 

"Just listen."

Britt lowered her head and tentatively brushed her cheek against the soft curve of Kat's breast, feeling Kat's nipple harden slightly against her face. 

Britt kissed one breast and then the other -- chaste kisses and soft strokes of her hand. Despite never having done anything of the sort before, this intimacy felt like the most natural thing in the world. She took a hardened nipple in her mouth and ran her tongue over it. She sucked it gently at first, and then with more force. An indescribable flavor flooded her mouth. She swallowed and a momentary light-headedness nearly brought her to her knees. When she recovered, she eagerly moved to the other breast and repeated the actions.

A moan rumbled in Kat's throat.

With her hands flat against Kat's back, Britt lowered herself farther still, kissing a trail from Kat's breasts to her pubic mound, until she rested on her knees between Kat's spread legs.

Britt pressed her nose against Kat and inhaled deeply. A subtle scent, heady and irresistibly female, rose to her nostrils and quickened her heart. Britt felt that light-headedness again and drew back. Her eyes fell upon the ring that adorned Kat's clitoris and recognized it as a twin to her own. 

Britt took the ring into her mouth and with her tongue explored the spot where metal pierced flesh. Kat's scent, arousing and beguiling, teased some distant memory.

Britt`s hands reached between Kat`s legs, curled around the velvet swell of her buttocks and found the base of her tail. Her fingers stroked its length. Kat stiffened and then relaxed.

Kat's hands held Britt's head as if in benediction. Britt's tongue slowly traced the contours of Kat's feminine geography, flitting into folds and teasing the soft pink flesh.

The tail guided Britt's hands to her opening,

Britt stroked Kat's glistening labia with her fingertips and inserted first one finger and then another. Kat tightened around them in welcome. Britt removed them and set their tips on her tongue, savoring Kat's essence.

At that taste, something loosened inside of Britt. 

She wrapped her arms around Kat's hips, placed her hands flat on her shapely ass and pulled her closer.

Her tongue moved more insistently now, movements accompanied by throaty moans from above.

Britt drank Kat in and a pleasant numbing warmth spread through her stomach, not unlike the warmth caused by strong spirits.

Britt sucked Kat's clitoris into her mouth and ran her tongue over it.

Kat stiffened and her breaths came in short bursts. 

"Oh God," she gasped.

A tremor wracked Kat`s body and she grasped Britt`s head more tightly, pressing her pelvis against it.

Britt thrust her tongue into Kat and lapped up the fluid that now flowed freely. Britt revelled in the intoxicating headiness of it, the calm that settled in the pit of her stomach.

Kat held Britt in place until the tremors ceased. A long sigh signalled fulfillment. Kat then took Britt's hand and helped her to her feet.

Britt smiled dreamily. "So that's how succubi inoculate cambions?" asked Britt.

"More fun than needles," Kat murmured.

"I don't know what came over me. I've never done anything like that before."

Kat placed her fingers beneath Britt's chin and raised her head. They touched lips and Britt returned the embrace. At length, she said, "There's no need to apologize. Sometimes our bodies and not our minds write the story. Sometimes our bodies know what to do."

* * *

Britt must have dozed. She was startled awake by the whisper of her name.

Kat stood by the bedroom window. The glow of the rising sun at the horizon lightened the yard in front of the house and threw the sleek lines of Kat's body in sharp relief. 

"Britt, come here."

Britt approached the window, wrapped an arm around Kat and pulled aside the curtain.

"There, by the oak tree. Do you see him?"

Britt could barely make out the shadow of a man, hunkered down by the trunk.

"Yes." Britt's voice quavered and the ring at her breast tingled for the first time in many days.

"He has seen us."

Britt's heart leapt to her throat.

The figure outside stood and detached itself from the shadow of the tree. Britt could discern horns. Something was wrong though. The figure lacked definition, as though his edges were bleeding into the surroundings, like water color on wet paper. Even as her stomach fluttered nervously at the sight, her heart leapt.

Kat guided Britt to the center of the room and took her face in her hands.

"Remember," said Kat. "I'm here with you. You're not alone."

To Britt, these words provided little comfort. Usually people said that you weren't alone right before they abandoned you.

Kat turned Britt around so that they were both facing the door. Britt felt Kat's breasts pressed into her back and her hands on the soft hollow on either side of the pubic mound.

Kat's wings closed lightly around them. Britt wasn't sure if this was protection or restraint.

At that moment, the door to the bedroom opened, framing the bare-chested figure of Damian.

No one spoke. In addition to his blurred edges, Britt saw that Damian appeared washed out, hinting at transparency. Despite the loss of definition, Damian cast a striking figure. His horns glinted. Black hair fell over his forehead, curtaining eyes that smouldered red. 

Britt drank in the sight of him. Lean and tightly muscled, he exuded strength and purpose. 

He approached the two women, wrapped in the white cocoon of Kat's wings, and stopped inches from them.

His breath rasped out from between slightly parted lips. "Britt," he whispered.

Demon or not, she yearned for him. 

Britt reached out from beneath Kat's wings and undid the button of Damian's jeans. Trembling fingers lowered the zipper and the jeans fell to the floor.

Damian licked his lips and his tail whipped back and forth, mesmerizing Britt with its movements. He said nothing as he placed a hand on the screen of wing that covered Britt's right breast. The nipple ring blazed and Damian smiled, as though recognizing something pleasant but dimly remembered.

Kat tightened her grip on Britt, even as Britt silently begged to be released. She wanted him. Wanted to heal him however she could.

Kat slowly backed away from Damian, still holding Britt, until they reached the bed. Damian remained motionless, observing them with molten eyes, his organ rising like a scythe from a nest of dark hair. 

Kat sat on the edge of the bed with Britt on her lap. At length, she lay back, holding Britt tightly to her. 

Kat spread her legs and whispered, "Do this. Please."

Reluctantly, Britt spread her legs as well, exposing her most vulnerable parts to Damian. Desire warred with fear. Kat's arms locked just beneath Britt's breasts and her wings tightened around them both.

Britt felt more vulnerable than she ever had before. 

An unnatural silence blanketed the bedroom, as though the world held its breath. Britt could feel Kat's slow breaths and the steady beat of her heart.

"That's it," whispered Kat. "Shhh."

Britt relaxed in the warmth of Kat beneath her and the wings around her. 

Her breath hitched at a tingling sensation on that part of her that was exposed. She attempted to close her legs but was unable to. Whether because of Kat or Damian, she didn't know.

The tingle intensified and grew substance between her open legs. 

Kat felt it too, for she unconsciously tightened her grasp around Britt. She whispered softly in Britt's ear, "In the name of the Master, bind Britt to us." 

It felt as though an electrified instrument thrust into Britt at that moment. She gasped as a wild charge erupted from her cunt to the top of her head.

Kat continued. "And in the name of the Master, let us reside in her dwelling place and she in ours. Let her accept us as we accept her."

The current was alive within her, suffusing her body with a charge unlike anything she'd ever felt before. It was an excruciating pleasure and her body writhed uncontrollably in Kat's grasp as Damian repeatedly thrust himself into her. Muscles deep within her throbbed and twitched and her breath came in short gasps.

As suddenly as the current started, it stopped, leaving an expectant hum in its wake.

Britt lay atop Kat, panting and spent.

She felt a pressure between her legs, but this time without the explosive electricity.

At that moment, Kat let loose an anguished cry.

What was happening? wondered Britt.

Soon, Kat relaxed and her arms and wings withdrew from Britt and lay limp on the bed. 

Damian slammed into Britt once again, hard and brutal. Again, Britt's core exploded in a mad thrumming of electricity. Through the delicious anguish, she glimpsed Damian, face contorted beneath gleaming horns. 

"In the name of the Master..."

Britt arched her back and came, even as Damian pummelled her. Muscles spasmed around Damian as she widened her legs for him. 

She fell limp against Kat when he withdrew. Again, Damian thrust himself into Kat. Britt reached behind to stroke Kat's face as her body stiffened. While Britt's pain was tempered by pleasure, she knew instinctively that the same could not be said for Kat.

Later, she could not tell how many cycles she and Kat had endured. Three or four? Dozens? She didn't know.

By the end, both she and Kat were sobbing, beyond any reasonable capacity to react.

The last thing Britt remembered was a kiss on the forehead before Damian stiffened and cried out, an animal howl that married release with remorse. A searing pain exploded within her, a blaze in the center of her being. After that, she knew no more.

~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~

I hope you have enjoyed this installment. Please let me know what you think. Your comments help keep me motivated. 

kt



Incubus Ch. 05



Britt awoke in a bedroom she didn't recognize.

She attempted to sit up, winced, and fell back onto the pillow. Every muscle hurt. Her abdomen felt as though it had been pummeled. Despite her physical pain, her mind had a crystalline clarity and she felt more alert than she had in a long while.

Recent events came back to her in a rush. She was in Kat and Damian's farmhouse. She'd been ill, but judging by how she felt now, that illness had passed. She recalled her episode with Kat -- her first with a woman -- and the strange threesome with Kat and Damian -- her first of that particular scenario as well. Surprisingly, she felt no shame at these firsts. She knew that they had played a part in her cure and she regarded them with a sense of liberation. 

Suppressing a moan of pain, she threw the covers back and rose. A silk robe was folded neatly on a chair. She wrapped herself in it and peeked out of the bedroom. She could sense someone downstairs but she wasn't yet ready for company. Instead, she made her way to the bathroom.

She locked the door and allowed the robe to fall off her shoulders to pool at her feet. She gazed at the woman in the mirror. The first thing she noticed was a ring on her left nipple, a twin to the one that Damian had affixed to her right. She supposed Kat had given her the new one, now that they were bound. She liked the symmetry but reserved judgment on the symbolism, unsure of what it meant to be bound to a succubus (not to mention her partner as well). She examined it; like Damian's ring, this one had no beginning and no end and gleamed in the light. The piercing had completely healed and nothing indicated that it had only recently been secured.

Backing away from the mirror a couple of steps, she took stock of the whole. While she still recognized herself, there was a new vitality about her. She couldn't put a finger on it, but the eyes were clearer, more penetrating, the mouth fuller, the jaw stronger. Her body too exhibited some subtle changes. Her breasts appeared fuller, her torso leaner. The small blemishes that had marked her body had been erased. While she had never been a slouch, hers body now spoke of vitality, power, and potential.

Being intimate with demons appeared to have some advantages.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Britt, are you alright?" It was Kat.

"Fine. Just fine. I just want to take a quick shower. Then I'll come down."

"Okay." 

Britt heard Kat hesitate before her footsteps retreated down the hall.

Britt lingered in the shower for a long time, savoring the warmth of the water that coursed down the curves of her body.

Kat sat at the kitchen table with her elbow on the table and jaw cupped in her hand. She gazed into the middle distance, absently stirring a cup of tea, a newspaper open before her. Britt hesitated at the entrance to the kitchen.

Here sat a woman, a succubus, with whom she'd been intimate. Even in this most domestic of environments, Kat was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. She wore her dark hair in a ponytail. She wore a red sweater that clung to her voluptuous curves. Her nipples pressed against the material and it was evident that she wore no bra. She didn't need to. Britt felt a pang. She wished she could be so effortlessly desirable. 

Britt had to shake her head. Before her sat a creature built for sin, to torment and to steal virtue. But Britt knew that Kat was more than a sexual predator. Her willingness to sacrifice for Damian spoke and her tenderness with Britt of a depth of emotion beyond what one would expect from a demon. Despite the short period that she had known Kat, Britt counted her as a friend. 

"Hello," said Britt.

Kat smiled weakly. "Good morning. You're looking well."

"How long did I sleep?"

"Twenty-four hours."

"I guess I was tired."

"Among other things. How are you feeling?"

"Great. Better than I have for a long time."

Kat got up and pressed a cool hand to Britt's forehead. "No fever."

"I feel fine."

These were uncharted waters. Britt's mind whirred. What was the protocol for the morning after with succubus with whom you'd just had a dalliance and whose ring now decorated your nipple? Did you bestow a good morning kiss? Did you pretend that nothing had happened?

"Do you hear Damian?" asked Kat, interrupting Britt's thoughts.

Britt closed her eyes. Nothing. Blissful silence. She shook her head.

"That's good," said Kat, still standing close.

Something inside of Britt quickened at Kat's nearness. She'd never been attracted to another woman. "Where is Damian?"

"Out. But he'll be back soon." Kat offered no explanation.

"Thank you for what you did," said Britt. "And for the ring." The memory Kat's scent and feeling of her skin came back to her in a flood. She threw caution to the wind and tentatively pressed her lips to Kat's. 

"We're bound now," Kat responded, wrapping a hand behind Britt's head and returning the embrace with breathtaking urgency.

Confusion and desire battled within Britt. She clutched the sweater at Kat's back, knotting it in her hands. What have I started? she thought.

Kat then quickly disengaged. A bewilderment that mirrored Britt's own etched her face. She returned to her chair. "I should be thanking you. Without your sacrifice, Damian would be dead."

Her sacrifice. Britt remembered now: she would never have children. She waited for the regret to come, but it didn't. 

"How are you doing?" asked Britt.

Kat shrugged. "I don't know."

It was obvious that yesterday had cost Kat dearly, but Britt was afraid to ask how much.

At that moment, Damian bustled into the kitchen, bags of groceries in his arms. Seeing Britt, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Britt stood, similarly frozen, her eyes on Damian. That he had recovered too was clear. He was no longer that washed-out phantasm of the morning before. 

He set down his bags and approached. Britt breathed in his scent and submerged herself in the aura of his masculinity. He looked strong and vital; lean, handsome, and indescribably desirable. 

This isn't good, she told herself, this Pavlovian lust response to these demons. 

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face. His piercing blue eyes searched hers. "You're well," he said finally, his deep voice stroking mysterious strings deep within her.

Britt nodded. She wanted him to kiss her and leaned closer. I've got to stop this, she told herself.

Kat came to the rescue. "You could use some breakfast," she said.

While Damian busied himself at the stove, Kat set out a plate, cutlery, and filled a glass with orange juice.

"Just me? What about you?"

Kat and Damian exchanged glances. "We've already eaten," said Kat.

Britt cursed herself for her stupidity. They were demons, after all. They took their sustenance in the beds of the vulnerable. They'd probably been up all night. The realization momentarily dampened Britt's desire for them and enabled her to regard them anew. She knew that she couldn't begrudge them their nature, but at that moment it was difficult to separate the intimacy they had recently shared with the reality of nightly visitations with strangers.

"So what now?" asked Britt as she pushed her plate away.

Damian settled in at the table opposite Britt. "Kat and I have discussed it and we want you to move in with us."

Britt was floored. Move in? She glanced from Damian to Kat. The tightness of Kat's smile suggested that she was less enthused with the proposed arrangement than Damian.

Britt thought about it for a moment. "No," she replied.

Damian was obviously shocked. Kat leaned back in her chair and directed a brief nod to Britt. 

"No. I have a degree to finish. Thanks to you, I'm way behind."

Damian sputtered. "Degree? We have everything you could possibly want here."

"Except for a degree. What would I do with myself all day? I appreciate your offer, but I'm going back, Damian, whether you like it or not."

Kat said, "He's not used to taking no for an answer."

Damian looked crestfallen and Britt's heart went out to him. "That's not to say you can't visit," she added.

Damian perked up.

"But I don't want you sneaking in like you have been. You come to the door like a gentleman. Ring the doorbell. And another thing: don't count on your demonic wiles to get your way. I'm onto you. If you're going to get anything from me, you're going to have to earn it."

Britt laid her hands flat on the table and leaned toward Damian. "You might be a little out of practice, but I'm one girl you'll have to court."

* * *

The first half of the drive back to Britt's apartment passed in silence. Britt couldn't erase the image of Kat, alone, waving to them as Damian's Porsche sped away from her.

Damian was obviously bewildered and hurt that Britt hadn't acceded to his request. Perhaps it was the ease with which he enjoyed his conquests over women. Perhaps he had never before been denied. 

Britt probably would surrender to him eventually, but something within her resisted the temptation to make it easy. More than anything, she needed time. Notwithstanding the fact that he was an incubus, they had lifted the lid on a box that contained any number of complications. Britt had unwittingly become a point in a triangle that, however manipulated, contained one or more sharp and uncomfortable angles. Achieving some sort of equilibrium would take time.

"So how long have you and Kat been together?" asked Britt when the silence grew oppressive.

Damian shifted in his seat and glanced at her. "A long time."

"What's a long time?"

"Six or seven...." His voice trailed off.

"Years?" prompted Britt.

"Hundred. Six or seven hundred years. I don't remember exactly. I'm bad at anniversaries."

Britt slouched more deeply in her seat. What had she done, getting between two demons who had seen any number of empires rise and fall?

"You've lived together that long?"

"Off and on."

"Oh, God."

"She's like a sister to me."

"Does she think of you as a brother?" asked Britt more sharply than she'd intended.

Damian frowned and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Finally, he said, "What else could she think? It's not like we've ever been intimate. Nor could we have been."

Britt resisted the temptation to punch him in the shoulder. Typical male, she thought. Believing that intimacy -- or love for that matter -- had to be expressed horizontally. For a guy who'd been around for hundreds of years, he certainly hadn't learned anything about women.

"Is there something I should know?" he asked.

Of course, Damian had no idea of what had passed between Britt and Kat, and Britt herself had no idea of what it had cost the succubus. 

"She loves you, Damian."

She speedometer crept up as Damian digested this. "Um... I don't suppose you mean in a sisterly way?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Damn."

Britt walked him through it. "If the roles had been reversed, if Kat had found a cambion for herself and that person had insinuated himself into your lives, how would that have made you feel?"

"Damn."

They drove in silence for several minutes.

Britt placed a hand on Damian's thigh. "Let's give it some time. This is all too new for all of us."

Damian nodded. "You might be right."

But Britt only half-believed her own statement. What did 'some time' mean for beings who'd been around for hundreds of years?

They drove into a small town and Britt asked Damian to park. 

"Why are we stopping?"

"I need some fresh air."

Damian shrugged and pulled the Porsche into a parking spot.

After perusing the boutiques that lined the main street, they found the mouth of a trail that ran like a narrow ribbon along the top of limestone cliffs that restrained the roaring river almost a hundred feet below. A cold wind whistled through the gorge. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot.

Britt stopped at a lookout and Damian approached from behind, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into him, welcoming in the contact.

"This is one of my favorite spots in the area," she said.

"I can see why."

Britt turned in his arms and faced him. "Tell me everything's going to be okay."

"I can't. But I hope so."

Britt frowned.

Damian continued, "This is new to me too, Britt." He tightened his arms around her. "Nothing in all of my years has prepared me for this. My nature doesn't allow for long-term commitments or meaningful relationships."

Britt searched his eyes.

"Perhaps until now," he concluded.

Britt pressed her lips to his and she melted into him. 

When he broke the embrace, he whispered, "I'm learning as I go. Please be patient."

They returned to the car, hand in hand.

It was late when they arrived at Britt's apartment. It seemed like ages since she'd last been there. 

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

"I never do that on the first date."

"This is hardly our first date."

"I think it is." Britt smiled at him innocently. 

"But..."

"You can kiss me again, though. Just a kiss, mind you."

Damian smiled and took her in his arms. For someone who was learning the ropes at the courting game, he certainly knew how to kiss. Despite her resolve to resist, she found her will weakening.

Footsteps sounded in the stairwell.

"Damian," she whispered.

He stared at her, hunger in his eyes.

"Your horns are showing."

Damian looked surprised and shimmered. His horns disappeared just as Britt's neighbor rounded that last flight of stairs.

"Good evening, Britt."

"Hello, Mrs Dabrowski."

"Beautiful night."

"Yes it is."

"Ah, you have a young man," she said in her thick Polish accent, as though noticing him for the first time. Britt suspected that the old Polish agony aunt had fully sized him up before she'd reached the landing.

Britt made introductions.

"He's a handsome one."

Britt smiled. "I think I'll keep him."

Mrs Dabrowski winked conspiratorially. "Mind that I don't snatch him away from you."

Damian rolled his eyes behind the old lady.

"I'll be careful."

The neighbor turned to her door and fumbled with a large ring of keys. How many locks could an old woman need to open? Britt wondered. 

Mrs Dabrowski hummed a tune off-key as she sorted through them, selecting one which didn't work and then another. 

Damian hissed with impatience.

Britt silently thanked her neighbor for providing her a means of escape. "Good night, Damian. I had a great time." Britt kissed him on the cheek.

"Ah ha!" cried the old lady as she pushed the right key home.

"Call me tomorrow."

Before Damian could react, Britt fled into her apartment and closed the door. She leaned against it and listened.

After a few moments, she heard Damian's steps retreating down the stairway.

* * *

Britt spent the weekend submerged in her studies. Her illness had created a seemingly insurmountable backlog. Damian called every evening. After berating her for her disappearing act, he agreed to give her space.

On Monday, she returned to the university. She stopped at the graduate studies office to collect her mail. On the secretary's desk sat an enormous bouquet, an explosion of color and scent erupting from a crystal vase. 

"Wow," she said.

"Wow indeed," spoke a voice from behind the flowers. The secretary rose from behind the bouquet.

"Secret admirer?" asked Britt, smiling.

"You tell me," said the secretary, also smiling.

"Huh?"

"They're yours."

Britt's eyes widened as she fumbled with the envelope. She opened it and read: Awaiting your summons. Love, Damian.

"Oh my," she whispered, stuffing the envelope in her pocket.

She carried the vase upstairs to her office, eliciting curious gazes and some good-natured ribbing from her fellow grad students. She cleared some papers off of her desk and placed the vase on it. She sat and gazed at it.

She smiled dreamily. Awaiting your summons. Yes, she would summon him again. But this time it would be different. She was not one to play insensitively with the feelings of others, but she wanted to make a point. Damian had insinuated himself into her life uninvited -- or at least consciously uninvited -- and had unleashed a torrent of upheaval. Her cure marked a new beginning, one in which Britt would take some control. If her solitary weekend had taught her anything, it was how out-of-control the last few weeks had been. That being said, she had little doubt that she would summon him soon...

Britt.

...but she would have a game plan.

"Britt!" 

She looked up.

A hulking presence in jeans and a sweatshirt stood in the doorway of the office. She frowned. Mike. Her boyfriend. Former boyfriend now, although he wasn't yet privy to the modifier.

"Where have you been? I've been calling."

Britt blinked at him. "Sorry. I've been sick."

"I was concerned. You might have called."

"I said that I was sorry."

Mike refused to be mollified. "What the hell is this?" he asked, gesturing to the flowers.

If he'd ever done the same, he'd know, thought Britt. "Flowers."

"I can see that."

Inspiration struck. "From a friend. Because I was sick."

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Some friend."

"Yes he is."

"He?"

Britt winced. She'd blown it. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation at school. "He's just a good friend, Mike, that's all."

Mike looked doubtful. Britt scrutinized him, wondering what she'd ever seen in him. 

...must think I'm an idiot...

The thought drifted through her mind unbidden. What was that? she wondered. It sounded almost like Mike, but he wasn't speaking.

"Okay. Great. He's a good friend." He sat in a chair across from the desk. He slouched, legs splayed. "We should get together. It's been a while."

Britt's eyes narrowed.

...maybe she'll let me fuck her one more time...

"What?" gasped Britt.

Mike looked baffled. "I said that we should get together."

Britt felt as though she were losing her mind. "I don't know, Mike," she stammered.

Mike frowned. "What's going on here, Britt?"

...bitch...

"I have no idea." Britt's hands trembled.

Mike stood, the chair scraping irritatingly against the floor. "Are you sure you're not still sick? You're pale."

Britt shrugged.

...if she wasn't so hot, I'd...

"I'll call you." 

"Sure," she whispered.

Britt ran through her phone messages when she returned home -- two wheedling messages from Mike, nothing from Damian.

She felt an unreasoning disappointment. Perhaps she should call him; she owed him that.

As if on cue, the phone rang. 

"Hello, Britt?" It was Damian. Her heart soared.

"Hi."

"I'm just in the neighborhood and was wondering whether you wanted to get together."

Oh God. Please. Yes! "Sure."

There was a knock on the door. "Hang on."

She opened the door and there stood Damian, tucking a phone into his jacket. He smiled.

In the weeks that followed, Damian demonstrated that he was as decent a guy as a demon could be, attentive and caring, insightful and worldly, and yes, gorgeous and unfailingly desirable. He seemed content to allow Britt to lead their relationship, respecting her need for distance, never pushing but showing in a multitude of small ways that he genuinely cared. By the end this period, she yearned for him. 

* * *

Britt paced her apartment nervously. She told herself it was to practice walking in heels, but in truth she was too nervous to sit. 

The doorbell rang and Britt stared at it dumbly before willing herself to answer it.

Damian's jaw dropped as his eyes widened. Dumbstruck. Thoroughly gobsmacked. "Wow."

Bingo. That was the response she was hoping for.

"Come in."

Britt knew that he was watching her leather clad butt, out-thrust out as only four inch heels could do. She hoped that she didn't break an ankle.




Incubus Ch. 05



"Can I spend the rest of my life undressing you?"

Britt turned and smiled. "I don't have that long."

He took her statement as an invitation and reached for her.

She laughed and held up her hands. "I didn't mean it that way," she said. "It's just that I'd be too old by the time you'd finished."

Despite Damian's favorable reaction, Britt felt a little self-conscious. This was about as far removed from jeans, sweaters and sneakers as she could get. She wore a white, satin blouse with several of the top buttons undone. A thin chain funneled into the generous cleft of her breasts. A black leather skirt encased her legs to mid-thigh. A midnight blue underbust corset over her blouse cinched the already narrow circumference of her waist, enhancing the hourglass figure that she normally kept hidden. Beneath it all she wore a lace bra and matching thong, garter and stockings. Her boots, a final surrender of reason and budgetary worries, encased her lower legs, laces criss-crossed from just below the knee. 

Damian sat heavily and gazed at her, elbows on knees, chin in hands.

Britt fidgeted. "What?"

He shook his head. "Who ever thought that the ungodly power to seduce was limited to incubi?"

They wended their way between tables to an intimate booth tucked into a quiet corner at one of the finest restaurants in town. Male diners paused mid-chew as Britt passed, while the female diners were torn between admiring Damian and casting withering looks at their male counterparts.

"I thought you didn't eat," said Britt after they'd been seated.

"Not usually. It doesn't do a thing for me. But I can't very well sit here with no food, though the dish before me right now is plenty good enough to eat."

Britt rolled her eyes despite the tingle she felt in the pit of her stomach. "I'm sure you see your fair share of dishes."

"You'd think that."

Britt regarded him quizzically.

"Britt, we're as much cursed as those we feed upon. Can you imagine? Centuries of visiting sin and carnality upon the unsuspecting without enjoying the intimacy? Forever being something to be exorcized?" He laughed bitterly. "Pity the demon. Imagine that."

Her heart went out to him. 

He shook his head and smiled ruefully. "It's bad enough you have a demon on your hands. Heaven knows I don't want you to think I'm desperate too."

Britt reached for his hand. "I don't think that. Besides, you have a half-demon on yours. Perhaps we're fated to be wicked together."

Damian laughed and it was music to her ears.

The rest of the meal passed quickly. Whether because of the candlelight, the wine, or Damian's presence, Britt felt intoxicated, submerged in a deep contentment, coming up for air whenever Damian's hand brushed hers.

She admitted to herself that she was his, come hell or high water.

On the way back to the car, they passed a bar that blasted loud Celtic music and raucous laughter onto the sidewalk. 

Damian slowed and peeked into the window. "Shall we check it out?"

Britt groaned inwardly. In contrast to her vow to proceed with all caution, she now yearned for nothing more than to be with Damian behind closed doors. Now. If she were any more wound up, she'd explode. Besides, this was a student bar, and the last thing Britt wanted was to be recognized by one of her classmates. 

He smiled, as though recognizing her sudden need for haste. 

"Come on. It'll be fun."

Britt didn't notice the flash of recognition as they passed the doorman.

Damian watched the students on the dance floor, a look of bemusement on his face. A small coterie of young women danced earnestly by the stage, surrounded by a self-conscious ring of awkwardly twitching boys. 

"This is what passes for dancing these days?"

"Can you do better?"

A look of horror crossed his face. "I'm far too old."

"Frost said that dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire."

"Then he obviously hadn't seen this. This is more an expression of horizontal seizures."

He sipped his single malt, and a look passed between Damian and the lead singer, who tipped her head in a subtle nod.

The band ended the song to applause and drunken shouts and then launched into its torch song. Damian smiled and pulled Britt onto the dance floor. He wrapped an arm around her corseted waist and held her hand. He held her close and pressed a leg between hers.

"This is more like it," whispered Damian.

Britt rested her head on his shoulder and allowed herself to surrender to the heat that emanated from him. The rest of the world dissolved around them. She felt only him, the pressure of him against her chest, the fleeting brushing of their legs, the erotic synchronization of movement.

The song ended and segued into a number that brought the singles back to the dance floor. Britt and Damian remained motionless, an island in the now heaving mass of students around them. Britt rose on her toes and nipped his earlobe. "Let's go. Please."

They left the dance floor arm in arm to collect their coats. 

Their way was blocked by Mike. "So this is your friend?"

Shit, thought Britt.

Damian extended a hand. Mike ignored it, his eyes boring holes into Britt.

"I knew something was up," said Mike. Two of his friends, the doorman and a gym gorilla Britt didn't recognize, stood behind Mike, grinning. Magically, the area around them cleared.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" shouted Mike above the pulsing music.

"She doesn't have to say anything," said Damian, stepping into the space between Britt and Mike.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"You are now."

Britt shouted a warning.

Mike swung his fist, a haymaker with little grace but plenty of force. Without taking his eyes off of his opponent, Damian's hand swung up and caught the fist before it could connect.

"You should really reconsider what you're about to do."

Mike's face twisted into an ugly grimace and he launched the other fist. Damian's other hand caught the punch as well.

Holding both fists, Damian's hands effortlessly swung down and he leaned into Mike. "You can't say that I didn't warn you."

"Please don't hurt him," pleaded Britt.

Mike attempted to deliver a head-butt which Damian easily avoided.

Damian shook his head and tightened his grasp. Mike's eyes widened. A series of cracks sounded over the music. 

Mike paled instantly and dropped to his knees as an animal howl erupted from his lips. The music faltered and stopped. Mike held his mangled hands to his chest.

Mike's friends took one look at the state of their companion and retreated a few steps. Several of the onlookers averted their faces with groans of disgust.

Britt stood in shock as Damian's wrapped an arm around her waist. "I think we should go."

A path opened before them as Damian grabbed their coats. Britt allowed herself to be shepherded outside as the club's bouncers converged on the wailing form of her ex-boyfriend.

"Did you have to do that?" asked Britt as they walked to the car.

"He got off easy."

"That's easy?" Britt shivered at the recollection of the sound of bones breaking.

"A lot easier than what he had in mind for you."

Britt wound her arm through his. "Thanks."

He looked at her and cocked an eyebrow.

"He had it coming," said Britt.

"So, did it turn you on, me defending your honor like that?"

She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

"Ouch."

* * *

They stood at Britt's door.

"I guess this is good night," said Damian, grinning.

Bastard, thought Britt. He knew exactly what was going on. Perhaps Britt could surprise him after all. Her finger probed a gap between the buttons of his shirt. "It doesn't have to be."

"No?"

"You could come in," said Britt.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, she was on him, mouth pressed against his, tongue probing, hands exploring.

She disengaged from him and took a tentative step back. His face registered surprise and hunger and his breath came raggedly. She knew she had him on the brink. Then again, she was on the brink herself.

Britt took a steadying breath. She had played out this moment in her mind and didn't want her own raging passion to derail her plans.

She approached him again and placed her hands on his chest. "If I'm going to be bound to you, it's only fair that you agree to be bound by me."

The smile left Damian's face. Britt thought for a moment that she'd taken it too far. "I already am," he whispered.

"I appreciate that, but it's not exactly what I had in mind."

She took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

"Don't move," she commanded.

Britt's hands fumbled with the buttons of Damian's shirt. By the time she'd reached his navel, Damian reached for the hooks that secured her corset and Britt shook her head. "I told you not to move."

Damian's hands dropped to his sides.

She knelt before him and busied herself with his belt. Soon his pants lay crumpled on the floor and she ran her fingernails along the thickening length of his cock that was straining the fabric of his briefs. These she slid off as well and his manhood sprang free.

She grasped it in her hand, kissed its crown and stood.

Damian's eyes glowed.

"Lie down," Britt commanded.

Damian hesitated but did as she asked. He positioned himself in the center of the bed, his organ already erect and proud.

From beneath the bed, Britt removed two lengths of rope that she had hidden there earlier. She hopped onto the bed, straddling him. The thickness of his cock pressed insistently against her backside.

Damian raised an eyebrow. 

"Give me your hand," said Britt.

He lifted a hand and placed it on her breast. Not exactly what she had in mind, but it would do. While he kneaded her breast, she managed to tie the rope around his wrist, leaving a good length to dangle.

She could feel the warmth of his hand through her blouse and the tingling of the nipple ring. She was close to discarding her plan altogether and taking him right then, but managed to restrain herself.

She repeated the process with the other wrist and fastened both to the headboard. She didn't doubt for a moment that Damian could defeat either her ropework or the headboard, if it came to that.

"I didn't take you for kinky."

She leaned back and admired her handiwork and the breathtaking man she had bound. He gazed at her hungrily while he tested the ropes that secured his wrists.

"You've got me where you want me. Now what?"

Britt swallowed. "I want to see you as you really are."

Damian grinned. "Very well."

He shimmered beneath her and Britt felt a tingling at her breasts and a heat between her thighs. Horns of the blackest night rose from his head and his skin took on a darker, reddish-brown hue. His eyes smoldered orange.

"Happy?"

Britt wasn't sure. She'd been able to overlook his nature for much of their date, to think him a man like any other. Now the doubts assailed her anew. It was difficult to reconcile the caring and attentive man she knew with this horned demon. Was this what she wanted? Did she understand what she was getting into? What was the cost?

Her fingertips tentatively explored his horns from the tips to their base, like a blind woman reading braille. Lids closed over smoldering eyes, hiding a flash of disbelief. Her fingers continued their journey to the hard planes of his face. She leaned over, resting on her elbows and grasping the horns in her hands. She kissed him deeply and pressed herself against him.

She sat up and his eyes opened again, begging hungrily. 

Britt slowly unfastened the corset while grinding her pelvis against him. Her blouse and bra followed. Her nipples tingled, puckered and slightly distended by the thickness of the rings that penetrated them. She stood then and removed her skirt and thong in a deliberate striptease and cast them aside.

Damian's glowing eyes roved her body and she flushed under the scrutiny. She stood for a moment longer, hips swaying gently, and unclasped her hair, allowing her tresses to descend in chestnut waves around her shoulders.

"You're a fucking tease," said Damian huskily.

Britt straddled him again and whispered into his ear. "And there's not a thing you can do about it." She bit his lobe hard enough to elicit a gasp.

She grasped his horns and pressed their tips into the pillow. She lowered her chest to his face, allowing first one nipple and then the other to graze his lips. She moved her breasts back and forth, the silken skin tingling against the stubble on his cheeks. She lost herself to the sensations when Damian took her into his mouth, teeth biting down on the soft and sensitive flesh. His tongue ran in heated circles around the nipple, exploring where the ring penetrated the flesh, alternately sucking and nibbling. He unleashed sensations that communicated a damp warmth to her groin.

When he finally released her, she positioned herself over him, her pale hands small and delicate against the muscular expanse of his chest. The crown of his cock cleaved the yielding softness of her pussy and she swayed her hips, her body poised on his length. She slowly lowered herself onto him in deliberate, delicious increments. 

He filled her as no one else had. When she had no more room for him, she pressed against him, relishing the exquisite pleasure and pain of accommodating him, until her damp lips kissed the base of his shaft. She remained thus for several long moments, quaking as a multitude of nerves fired and muscles spasmed within her.

Finally she rose and took him in again, grinding her pelvis into him.

Whatever he might be, this felt so right. 

She felt another sensation, a flitting point that danced around her ass, pressed against her perineum, and insinuated itself alongside his cock within the straining confines of her pussy.

Through the shimmering heat of her passion, she tried to place this phantom sensation. 

She glanced at Damian through the swaying curtain of her hair. He grinned wickedly. Something pressed against her anus.

His tail. When she had asked him to reveal himself, she'd forgotten about his tail.

As she bore down on him, his tail penetrated more deeply into her ass.

She moaned and quickened her pace, riding Damian's cock and probing tail with animal intensity.

Her body shuddered as she came, trembling with each wave until she collapsed upon him, spent.

He flipped her onto her back, having easily escaped the ropes. She opened herself to him. He twined his fingers in hers and held her hands immobile on either side of her head. 

He rose above her, a medieval vision, and lowered himself into her.

"Fuck me," she begged.

His whipping tail thrashed her flanks as he rode her. 

She gasped at the pummeling.

He moaned his release as his cock pulsed deep within her, emptying itself.

Britt held him within her, hands on his hips, refusing to part from him.

Some time later, Damian lay alongside her, head perched on hand, the other lazily stroking her breast.

"Britt?"

"Hmm?"

"Britt, I..."

She pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. There was no need for words.

"Me too," she whispered.

Damian left in the evening after they'd spent the day together, exploring each other at leisure. He had asked whether she wanted him to return to human form but she begged him not to. At times, the sight of him as a demon shook her; at others, the incongruity of this horned being engaged in domestic tasks made her laugh.

When at last he made to leave, Britt held him though she knew that he had to feed.

He stood reluctantly at the door. "You understand that I have to leave -- what I have to do?"

Britt frowned but was forced to nod. She wished that she -- and she alone -- could sustain him.

"Can you accept it?"

She did, but couldn't prevent her eyes from misting. "Only if you make love to me first."

"Is that an invitation?"

"It's a demand."

***

Damian's frantic telephone call came the next morning. "Have you seen Kat?"

"No. Not recently. Why?"

Damian cursed. "I think she's done something terrible."

-- to be continued --

***

My apologies to those of you who thought the story ended with the last chapter. Rest assured that there will be a couple more chapters in this series and the next series (featuring some of the same characters) is already in the works.

Thanks to those of you who have taken the time to comment and to vote on previous chapters. It's reassuring and encouraging to know there are readers on the other end. As a neophyte, your input means a lot.



Incubus Ch. 06



The retired priest's residence looked not unlike a university dormitory – utilitarian and architecturally undistinguished. Two multi-storied wings extended from a central tower that overlooked a large courtyard. Spotlights illuminated the cross affixed to the peak of the tower.

Kat drove slowly past the residence and parked several streets away. At this hour there were no pedestrians. She stepped out of her Range Rover and retraced her path back to the residence. The heels of her boots echoed in the deserted street. A cold, unforgiving wind gusted in the tunnel created by the vacant buildings on either side of the street, whipping Kat's long black hair behind her. The moon rode low in the heavens, appearing and then vanishing behind scudding clouds.

Not for the first time, Kat questioned the wisdom of her plan.

Since Britt and Damian had been cured, Kat had felt dangerously unmoored. The simple symmetry, comfort, and predictability of her life with Damian had been thrown into disarray. Fate had a way of doing that – blindsiding you when you least expected it and then laughing as you stumbled along a new and unexpected path. She could almost hear the laughter. How could a succubus expect comfort, after all? That she had enjoyed any was remarkable enough.

For the life of her, she could think of no other way that she could have acted. To save Damian, she essentially had to sacrifice her relationship with him. It put her in mind of that odious declaration -- if you love someone, set them free. Bullshit, she thought, and as if to prove it, her life reeked of it right now.

She didn't blame Damian. Hell, she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't similarly embrace the happiness that had been offered him. However, Damian's understandable preoccupation with Britt had left Kat bereft of the anchor she had relied on for eons.

She ducked into a dark alley. Scraps of newspaper and candy wrappers eddied by the hulking dumpsters that sheltered scavenging rats. 

At first, she fought the self-pity that threatened to engulf her, knocking around the old farmhouse alone and venturing forth to feed only when her nature demanded it. She tried to convince herself that her selfless sacrifice for the one she loved was a reward in itself. For a saint it might be; for her it wasn't. As the days passed, the melancholy she barely disguised had evolved into vague anger and then into unfocussed rage.

When Damian was home, he studiously concealed his own exhilaration, which just enraged Kat more.

Through it all, the rage intensified.

Kat knew herself well enough to recognize the growing need to lash out, to direct her rage somewhere, but felt powerless to prevent it. No, not powerless. Unwilling. She needed the cleansing of a righteous conflagration.

She'd chanced upon the first in a series of newspaper articles just before Britt had made her appearance in the kitchen that morning. Britt, fully recovered, heart-rendingly beautiful and innocent and blessedly ignorant of what had awakened within her. Try as she might, Kat couldn't muster up even a vague dislike for this woman. She'd been pulled into a demonic liaison against her will and had borne the pain and uncertainty with remarkable strength. No, Britt was perfect for Damian. It was too bad that she was perfect for Kat too. 

When Britt had kissed her that morning, the memories of what they had shared had come back in a flood. It would be a chapter she might revisit later in life, when time had dulled the memory. As it was, the kiss underscored the impossibility that the three of them -- Britt, Damian, and Kat -- could share their lives with each other equally. If you love someone and all that crap....

The impotent despondency that Kat had felt at that moment found its focus in the subject of a newspaper article. Yet another disgraced priest had come to light, one in a long and loathsome procession of clerics who preyed on the young, vulnerable, and innocent. In short, a predator.

She'd circled the article in red, not quite knowing then what she'd do with it, but knowing that it was significant. Over the next few weeks, she voraciously researched this priest. Perhaps fate was again playing a game and setting her on another path. As her anger grew, she willed for her path and the priest's to intersect.

In the alley, Kat shimmered and lost substance, growing almost invisible. She would now appear as a phantasm, a hint of movement that had haunted the peripheral vision of humankind throughout the ages.

This would be an old-school visitation.

Kat swept up the remaining distance to the residence, pausing by trees, hulking skeletons now bereft of their leaves. She projected into the residence for activity. There was none; the residence slumbered.

Kat thought it would have been difficult to locate the priest's room, but it wasn't. She stalked the silent halls, projecting into rooms as she went. She rejected those rooms in which the occupant transmitted unease or disgust at the man who now shared their domicile. So much for Christian charity. Eventually she found a room that was thick with the miasma of despair and fear. She ghosted through the halls once again to be sure. 

She stood before a door. This was the room.

Behind this door slept one who had betrayed trust and defiled innocence more thoroughly than any demon could.

To the ignorant, such a person might be seen as an ally in the cause of evil. Kat knew differently and seethed in disgust. She, at least, would remain true to her nature.

She suppressed the fury that now seeped around the edges of her control and eased into the room.

In the bed, twisted in the sheets, the priest whimpered as an unearthly cold swept the room.

* * *

The moonlit room was modest. It contained little more than a dresser, a bed, and a night table on which lay a well-thumbed bible. It was an appropriately nondescript room for the barrenness of the soul who resided in it.

Kat noted the crucifix on the wall and shook her head.

The priest twisted in his bed.

"Sleep, father," whispered Kat. I don't want you awake yet, she thought.

The priest grew quiet.

Kat regarded the figure, half disbelieving that such corruption could reside in such an innocent, grandfatherly shell.

Kat hovered over the bed and reached down to draw back the blanket. The priest flailed for the covering as the cool air of the room eddied around him.

"Shh."

Her ethereal fingertips trailed up his inner thigh to brush his flaccid member.

"You know you want this..." whispered Kat.

The priest responded to Kat's touch.

"...blessed release."

The priest's hand inched across the bed to his groin and slipped under the waistband of his pajamas.

"That's it."

How weak, thought Kat. Still caressing the very thing that had wrought such suffering.

"I can help you, father."

The priest moaned pitifully.

"I want to help you."

* * *

Even in sleep, the priest could not escape.

He knew he should be strong, rise up to the challenge the Lord presented to him, but he knew himself. He was weak, unworthy. He couldn't fight it.

The dream came to him, as it always did, like an unpleasant houseguest he had no courage to turn away. It was a dream that would taint his days and set him on a quest for absolution that would inevitably fall short.

He grasped himself. 

"I can help you, father."

Half asleep, he pried open an eye. The room was dark and he was alone. A dream. Just a dream. He drifted off again, surrendering to whatever his fevered unconscious threw before him.

"I want to help you."

"Help me," he whispered.

* * *

Kat felt ill, revolted by this piece of human carrion that she had targeted. 

Why am I doing this? she thought. Was it her job to haunt this man as he haunted the thoughts of his victims? Was this justice?

She overcame her revulsion and exposed the priest's hand as it weakly fondled his organ. 

Get this over with, she told herself.

She lowered herself over him and spread her lips. She tentatively licked the glans that the sleeping priest helpfully presented to her.

Such weakness.

She lowered herself further still and took him in her mouth, feeling him harden as she did so. She caressed him with her tongue.

It would be much easier to bite it off and be done with it, but that would be unsubtle. Even then, she increased the pressure of her teeth against the base of his cock. It would be so easy.

A timorous whimper from the priest brought her back and she spat his now hard and saliva-slick cock from her mouth.

Get this over with, she told herself again.

Kat straddled the priest and reached behind to stroke him, running her fingernails up the underside of his organ.

She positioned him at her anus and pressed down, circling her hips. With her hands on her buttocks, she spread the halves of her ass and bore down, almost breaching the first ring of muscle.

"Do you like it, father?"

"Yes," whispered the slumbering priest.

* * *

He felt the delicious pressure of flesh against his erection and the subtle movements designed to give him entrance. On the brink, in several ways. He could end it now and draw a line in the sand beyond which he would no longer go. Let this day mark a new beginning. Own up to the misdeeds of the past and start anew. The path of virtue was not yet closed to him. Yet he couldn't. The flesh was weak. He heard his own muffled cry that accompanied the blessed yielding as he penetrated and the flesh of the other embraced him tightly.

He moaned. To be enveloped by another....

"Do you like it, father?" That mocking voice again.

"Yes," he murmured, even as he desperately clung to sleep lest the dream evaporate, leaving only unfulfilled solitude. "Yes."

* * *

Kat lowered herself in increments, taking him inexorably within her. There was no pleasure in having this parasite invade her. Perhaps reward would be in seeing his eyes when he recognized her for what she was.

She rode him then. The enjoyment of the game she felt with others was absent here. If he only knew that even a demon felt violated and revolted by his touch.

The cadence of the priest's breathing signaled that he was almost there.

She squeezed her muscles around him, eliciting enough real pain to dissolve the fiction of sleep.

His eyelids fluttered.

"Be here with me, father."

She rode him, not allowing the priest's growing confusion to detract from the stimulation.

"Let's both give thanks for what we are about to receive."

"Who..."

The priest came fully awake, torn from the embrace of his dream. His eyes widened. This was real.

"Fuck me, father, for you have sinned."

A strangled noise seeped out of the priest's open mouth.

Kat tightened herself mercilessly around the base of his cock. 

"Do you like this, priest?"

Kat revealed fully herself then. She sighed as she materialized. She could see horror in the priest's eyes as he recognized her.

Kat fingered her horns, snapped her wings open, and allowed her tail to caress her breasts. She leaned menacingly over him. Her black hair tenting around his head, the glow from her eyes reflected in his, their noses bare inches apart.

"Or did you prefer it when you dreamt I was a child?" she growled.

The priest gibbered in terror, mouth articulating sounds that might have been a prayer.

This was the point at which Kat normally fed, when terror and arousal peaked. However, the priest's taint lent his energy a rancid foretaste. Kat recoiled at his contact, almost retching as she absorbed the first tendrils of the priest's energy.

"Remember: I am to you what you were to them, priest," she hissed.

She drove herself onto him anew and allowed her fury free reign.

The priest's fingers scrabbled on the bed as he came, like desperate crabs seeking purchase on shifting sands. His breath came in short, wheezing gasps and a sheen of sweat bathed his face. He clutched his chest.

His moan had nothing to do with fulfillment. His last rattling breath had everything to do with the closing of a chapter. 

Kat sat upon him as he writhed beneath her. The glow in her eyes faded as the life left his. At length she disengaged from the priest and stood at his bedside. He now lay motionless, eyes affixed unblinking at the ceiling, looking reduced and fragile.

Kat placed the bible on his chest and drew his cooling, liver-spotted hands over it.

She didn't feel guilty for having dispatched the priest. The possibility of this postscript to his sorry life had been in the back of her mind all along. If there was any justice in the world, he was now making the acquaintance of her master. Neither did Kat feel any particular satisfaction. The priest was dead. One predator had bested another. Nothing else had changed.

The rage, she knew, would be back. For now, it slumbered.

* * *

Damian returned home after visiting Britt and stopping in at a particularly impressionable young single mother. He'd fed upon her like a glutton as her fear battled gamely with a hearty and seemingly boundless sexual curiosity. 

She was delicious.

He would visit her again.

The house was empty, but more than that, it felt empty, as though its soul had been sucked out. It was unusual that Kat would not be home at this hour. 

Damian flipped on the radio and found a series of newspapers arrayed on the kitchen table as the news of the priest's death broke on the local newscast.

Damian thought nothing of it. Disgraced priests had been much in the news in the last few years. Damian could imagine the sighs of relief and muttered thanks in the corridors of the archdiocese that this one had died before the sordid mess could be aired in the courts. 

An article in the top-most issue had been circled in red. He scanned it:

... local priest facing child pornography charges is allowed to stay in the tri-cities ...

... must report regularly to police. The conditions also prohibit access to computers and the internet and being in contact with children and teenagers under the age of 18....

... is being welcomed to live at a priest's residence run by the archdiocese, the archbishop announced Thursday afternoon....

An alarm went off in his head. What was Kat's interest in this story? 

He quickly scanned the remaining issues. All featured articles, going back in time, detailing the downfall of this priest.

"Shit," muttered Damian.

He stood irresolutely in the middle of the kitchen, clutching a newspaper in his hand.

It can't be, he thought. 

He scrambled to the office and booted Kat's laptop. She'd been spending a lot of time locked up in the office of late. He opened Google, selected View All History, and quickly found a link to a press release from the local archdiocese:

"When our brother called our offices, there were no options available to him respect to a residence in the tri-cities area. In the spirit of Christian charity, I have granted him permission to stay at our Retired Priests' Residence. 

"I appreciate that our brother faces serious charges and pledge our complete cooperation the authorities who are responsible for the administration of justice. 

"I also appreciate how this matter has saddened our ministry and community...." 

"Shit," muttered Damian again.

There was no doubt in his mind that the priest's untimely demise and Kat's interest in him coincided in a terrible way.

On impulse, he checked Kat's browsing history again and found a Mapquest query for the address of the retired priest's residence.

Damian dropped into the chair and buried his head in his hands. 

How could he have been so blind?

He called Britt. 

"Have you seen Kat?"

"No. Not recently. Why?"

Damian cursed. "I think she's done something terrible."

"What?"

"I'm not sure, but I have a good idea. I'm coming to see you. I'll tell you when I get there."

At that moment, a tone emanated from the laptop.

Damian cursed and clicked around until he stumbled upon Skype and a voice came out of the laptop.

"Hello?"

"Hello," Damian answered, surprised.

An attractive woman appeared on screen. "Am I correct in assuming that this is Damian?"

"You are."

The woman smiled. "I was just calling Kat to see how it went with you and that girl."

"We're both fine. Who is this?"

"Forgive me. I'm Isabel D'Avignon. Kat sought my help in resolving your problem."

The wheels in Damian's mind whirred. D'Avignon. The name rang a distant bell. Avignon was a papal city, an ancient city in France, once a beacon to their kind. Isabel D'Avignon. One of the ancient clans? It couldn't be. Could it?

"Am I correct in assuming that we obey the same master?" asked Damian carefully.

"You would be correct."

Damian was astounded and humbled at the effort Kat had expended on his behalf. Links between clans were tenuous and infrequent. Isolation preserved anonymity. 

"In that case, I have to thank you for whatever assistance you provided. Both I and Britt have fully recovered. Unfortunately...."

"Yes?"

"Unfortunately, Kat has gone. I think she has crossed the line."

Isabel's face creased. "Tell me more."

"A clergyman had died. A priest. Disgraced, but a priest nonetheless."

Isabel sat back, shocked.

"I believe that Kat is involved. Right now, I don't know where she is."

They regarded each other across the internet.

"I know what she's capable of," said Damian. He closed his eyes and remembered their demonic salad days, before age, experience, and mutual comfort had mellowed them.

Isabel spoke to someone beyond camera range and then returned her gaze to Damian. "We're packing our bags. We'll be there tomorrow."

"Is it necessary?"

"If you feel even somewhat responsible for this -- and I suspect that you do -- my sense of responsibility eclipses it. I suggested this path and in my arrogance allowed her to follow it unsupported. If anyone is to blame, Damian of Pannonia, it is I."

"Let me tell you how you can reach me."

"Don't trouble yourself. We will find you."

* * *

Britt and Damian started at the crunch of tires on the gravel of the drive. Both leapt up and ran to the window. Unfortunately, it was not Kat's Range Rover. Instead, a long, black Lincoln drew to a stop by the front door. A large man emerged from the driver's seat and rounded the car to open the passenger door.

They had spent the past day on tenterhooks. Without any clue as to Kat's whereabouts, Britt and Damian remained at the farmhouse in the hopes that Kat would appear. It wasn't as though they could ask the police to file a missing persons report.

Damian went to the front door as Britt continued to examine the new arrivals from the living room.

A woman emerged from the rear of the car. Like the driver, she was blonde and slender, and even from a distance Britt could see that she was remarkably attractive. 

At the sounds of the visitors in the foyer, Britt joined Damian to greet them.

Introductions were made. Isabel's companion, Jean-Paul, regarded Damian with undisguised disdain and Britt with some suspicion. He was large and stood several inches taller than Damian. 

The woman, Isabel, removed her black leather gloves and slipped her long manicured fingers into Britt's hand and regarding her with undisguised curiosity. She combined beauty with unconscious refinement, yet there was nothing distant about her. She exuded warmth and empathy and Britt calmed the moment they made contact.

"Britt. I had so hoped to meet you, though I wish the circumstances were better." Isabel spoke with a soft French accent.

Britt nodded, suddenly at a loss for words. Damian had briefly explained the history of European demons during their vigil for Kat. After having wandered from empire to empire for hundreds of years, many demon clans had spread to the major cities of medieval Europe -- Bruges, Florence, Lutetia. The Avignon clan was one of the more illustrious and accomplished, having survived and thrived side-by-side with popes and their followers. Legend had it that their master was particularly pleased and amused with their ability to rub elbows with the Papal court during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and as a result relaxed many of the strictures that bound them. With increased latitude from their master and their proximity to this particular seat of power, the Avignon branch had grown in influence and prestige in both demonic and human circles.




Incubus Ch. 06



Now their matriarch gazed upon Britt.

"Pleased to meet you," Britt stammered.

Isabel turned her attention to Damian. "Have you heard anything?"

"No."

"And you, Britt, have you heard anything?"

Britt shook her head.

Damian ushered them all into the living room.

"Are you sure?" asked Isabel when they were seated. "You are, after all, bound to Kat."

"No. Nothing."

"Perhaps you don't know what to listen for. I'm certain that I'm not mistaken in my belief that you can capture thoughts."

"I... I don't know what you mean."

Damian looked at Britt quizzically.

"Have you heard voices?" asked Isabel impatiently.

Britt recalled hearing what seemed to be wisps of thought from her ex-boyfriend that morning in her office. She described the sensation to Isabel.

Isabel smiled. "It's a start."

"Is it like reading minds?"

"No," said Isabel. "It's more like catching stray thoughts of those who aren't disciplined enough to shield them. In a way, it's not unlike what incubi do when they project and catch human responses."

This was the first indication of what Kat had hinted at weeks ago -- that Britt would inherit powers with the awakening of the demon half of her. 

"I haven't caught so much as a whisper from Kat."

"There's a possibility that I can help you get past Kat's defenses. Damian, is there a room where Britt and I may have some privacy?"

Damian silently led them to the study. His eyes betrayed concern as he closed the door softly behind him.

Isabel sat opposite Britt.

"Believe or not, you're only the second cambion I've met."

"Who was the first?"

Isabel didn't answer directly. "He's gone, and just as well. You, however, have a strength that he lacked; you've been able to keep the two parts of your nature in balance and derive the benefits of both. And in that ability, you may well be unique. I wish I had more time with you. There is much we could learn from each other."

"It seems that I do have a lot to learn," said Britt.

"Oh?"

"Like being bound. I honestly don't know what that means."

Isabel sat back. "It seems that Damian has been remiss, or perhaps distracted." She looked meaningfully at Britt, who could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. "Being bound is both a blessing and a curse, depending on how you look at it. Which do you want first?"

"The curse."

Isabel took a deep breath and leveled her gaze at Britt. "You can have no other. Being bound is for life, much like marriage but with no convenient escape clause. It's no accident that the words binding and bondage are related. That you are bound by two demons is almost unheard of, and adds some complexity to a life that seems to have had its share in the last few weeks. In essence, you thrive as your master thrives, and you suffer as your master suffers. Your lives are now inextricably entwined. For this reason alone, it's important that we find Kat."

"So I'm a slave? To both of them?"

"I prefer the term consort. And yes, being bound to both is a problem."

Britt closed her eyes as the reality of being bound sunk in. "I'm ready for the blessing now," she said weakly

"First of all, being bound offers you protection from both humans and other demons who would harm you. You'll live longer and more intensely. Latent abilities will come to the fore. You will find no one more dedicated to you than your master. That being said, you are a cambion, so that dynamic will likely be different in ways I can't imagine."

"Essentially I'm married to two demons with no chance of parole."

Isabel smiled. "You could put it that way. Does that worry you?"

Britt shrugged. "Worrying about it now won't get me anywhere or change anything. Besides, it's Kat I'm worried about."

Isabel nodded and stood. "Good. Now, let us see what we can do to hone these latent abilities of yours." She held Britt's upper arms. Britt needed no instructions to gaze at the ancient succubus's eyes; they were magnetic -- ice blue with an undercurrent of heat. There was history in these eyes – a lot of pain, some pleasure, and great knowledge. 

At first, Britt sensed nothing out of the ordinary. They locked onto each other and the study gradually dissolved around them. Britt became aware of a low electric thrumming at the base of her skull that sent tendrils up and over the crown of her head. Her brain hummed like an engine winding up with a power that was barely contained. Britt felt herself swelling, filling the room, extending her reach far beyond her body. 

Isabel broke the connection suddenly and staggered back a few steps. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, collecting herself.

"What's wrong?" asked Britt, alarmed.

"You're truly remarkable, Britt."

"That's it?"

"You speak of an impressive pedigree. Your mother was remarkably strong. The fact that she was able to carry you to term speaks volumes."

"And my father?"

Isabel remained silent for a few moments, her eyes unfocussed. "I must do some research. But let's get back to matters at hand. Do you hear Kat?"

Britt wanted to hear more about her parents. She was about to speak but Isabel's countenance strangled the words in her mouth. Britt obediently closed her eyes. She heard nothing.

"Concentrate on Kat. Picture her in your mind. Think on the moments you shared. Reconstruct her -- her body, her smell, her taste."

What did she know? wondered Britt. She shook the thought out of her head and took a deep breath. She followed Isabel's instructions, casting her mind back to that day in Kat's bedroom, the feeling of Kat's skin against hers, the glow of warmth and power that enveloped her, and her taste.

An image of Kat coalesced in her mind. Alone. Seated on a bench in the shadows. Around her, more benches. "She's in a church," said Britt finally.

"Good," murmured Isabel.

"In a pew at the back."

Isabel's voice seemed to come from a distance. "Leave the church. Go outside. Do you recognize it?"

Britt concentrated. "I... I think so. Yes. It's not too far from the university. I know it."

"You've done well."

Britt blinked. 

"I think we should be going," said Isabel.

* * *

The only illumination in the church came in the form of weak light that barely penetrated the stained glass above the main doors. 

Britt's eyes adjusted to the gloom and recognized Kat curled up on a pew to the right, just as she had seen in her mind.

Britt slipped into the pew next to Kat.

"Britt. I knew it was you who would find me."

Britt wrapped an arm around Kat's shoulder. "You've caused a bit of a stir."

Kat regarded the altar and remained silent.

"We've been worried."

Kat still said nothing.

"Why a priest, Kat?"

"Funny, I was asking myself the same thing." Kat reached up and gripped Britt's hand. "I don't think he was a priest, Britt. I think he was a monster who happened to wear a collar."

"He's dead."

"I know. I watched him die."

Britt shivered.

"You think I'm a monster too, huh? I see how you're looking at me, thinking that perhaps this priest and I are not so different."

Britt looked away.

Kat spoke quietly and Britt strained to hear. "I told you weeks ago that mankind alone is capable of far greater evil than the likes of Damian and me. As much as this priest might claim that he was possessed, and in so doing take our name in vain, the fact is that he and he alone is responsible for the evil he inflicted upon those children. Do you know what the difference is between him and us?"

Britt shook her head.

"It's that whatever sin we visit on our victims, it is something they have invited, albeit unconsciously. Do you think these kids invited any of what they suffered?"

"No."

"It might surprise you that we never prey on children. Never. One reason is that there's nothing in it for us. True, there would be fear, but there would be no desire. When you think about it, innocence is the absence of desire and is therefore beyond the reach of evil. So when an emissary of virtue preys on the innocent, it goes beyond evil. That's something I can't abide."

Kat shook her head sadly. "Then, of course, there's what was done to you."

"To me?"

"What we awakened in you could easily have lain dormant for the rest of your life. I wonder whether you would have been better off for it." 

"Damian had no way of knowing. Besides, as you said before, I invited it."

"And you have no idea what that invitation entailed."

"I have two new friends," suggested Britt weakly.

Kat smiled. "Despite it all, you still maintain some innocence. Hang onto it."

Kat returned her gaze to the altar.

The conversation had made Britt uneasy. "Why did you come here? Damian and Isabel wouldn't enter."

"To make peace with myself, if you can believe it, and to try to figure out why this priest bothered me so much."

"And have you?"

"No. I still have trouble with a religious organization relying on secular justice. But I do know one thing: if religious justice can only be meted out after death, I'm not upset that I was able to expedite it."

She turned to Britt and smirked. "What would Jesus say?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I."

They both regarded the altar but sought comfort in each other.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Kat glanced at her and quickly looked away. "You didn't hurt me, Britt. And neither did Damian. In fact, I envy the two of you. After hundreds of years, the fates have decreed that Damian can now enjoy a small corner of his life that is pure. Perhaps I'm a bit jealous too."

"What about you, Kat? What happens now?"

"I think I need to go away for a while. It seems that I've become a bit of a loose cannon."

They sat in silence for several more minutes.

"I'm sure that Damian and Isabel are anxious to see you."

Kat nodded and rose tiredly. "Let's not keep them waiting."

* * *

They returned to the farmhouse after an almost silent drive from the church. On their return, Kat and Isabel locked themselves in Kat's bedroom for an hour. Britt tried to entertain the brooding Jean-Paul but eventually gave up.

At length, Isabel returned to the living room and spoke to Damian. "Kat will see you now."

On entering the bedroom, Damian took in the suitcase that lay open and partially filled on the bed. A steamer trunk, lid open, rested on the floor.

"You don't have to go," said Damian. 

"I do, and you know it."

Damian sat on the edge of the bed and watched Kat pack.

"I'll miss you." The inadequacy and triteness of the statement make Damian cringe inwardly.

Kat smiled and sat on the bed next to Damian. "We've been through this before. We've always found each other again."

"This doesn't feel like any other time. Be sure that you do come back. Please."

"I will. And you have to promise to be good to her, Damian."

Damian took a deep breath. "I promise."

Tears threatened to spill from Kat's eyes and Damian's grey misty. "Some demons we are," said Kat, wiping her cheek.

Damian laughed weakly and left Kat to her packing.

* * *

Damian swirled the single malt scotch in the tumbler, observing the flames in the fireplace through the amber liquid. 

Kat had left hours before. In the silence of the old farmhouse, Britt and Damian tiptoed around each other as though unsure of their footing, both hurting in their own way.

The logs crackled and hissed -- the sounds of rural comfort. The first snow of the season hurled itself against the window, sounding like waves of static.

Britt rose from the sofa and knelt at Damian's feet. She leaned her arms on his legs. She looked up at him, eyes searching.

"We owe her everything," she whispered.

Damian nodded, overcome by the magnitude of all that had happened. Uncharted territory again. Then again, he'd been navigating uncharted territory ever since he'd met Britt. 

He gazed at Britt, this mystery of a woman who'd been thrust into his life. At once he realized that he welcomed the unknown and the challenge of getting to know it. He slipped off the armchair to kneel with Britt before the flickering flames and heat emanating from the hearth.

He slowly stroked her face with the backs of her fingers and touched his lips gently to hers. He eased his arm behind her back and lowered her to lie on the rug.

He lay next to her, head propped on his hand while the other traced the contours of her face, down from her cheekbones to the firm line of her jaw and then down her throat. His fingers ran from her breast to abdomen to hips, as though learning her geography for the first time.

When had he last touched someone with no motive beyond the simple comfort of contact? He couldn't remember.

There was a world to explore in this woman, he thought.

He slipped his hand under her sweater, pressing against the silken skin and feeling the soft, warm vulnerability of her abdomen.

"Take it off," she whispered, raising her arms above her head.

The sweater soon lay rumpled on the floor. Damian shook his head at the vision before him. Britt's face lay turned to the fire, hair spread out like a shimmering halo on the rug, a vision of purity and innocence. Flickering light glinted off the rings that adorned her nipples and played on her breasts, casting her captivating curves in sharp relief.

He placed his hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating beneath it. The corners of her mouth teased up, revealing a slight dimple in her cheek that he hadn't noticed before. She moved on the rug, stretching the body that God had given her and that the devil had refined.

At length he shifted his hand and kneaded the softness of her breasts, stroking and then pressing the pink and puckered nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back and he lowered his face and pulled a nipple into his mouth. He slid the flat of his hand from her chest down her abdomen and then beneath her skirt until it reached her mound. He curled his fingers around to nestle in the yielding ripples of her sex.

"I want you." She turned to him then, eyes softened.

They made love unhurriedly, secure in the knowledge that the future contained countless tomorrows. 

Some time later, when the flames in the hearth had exhausted their dance and only a bed of embers glowed on the grate, Britt turned to Damian. "I don't want to go back."

"To what? School?"

"No. My apartment."

Damian's eyes widened. "You want to move in? With me?

"If you'll still have me."

Damian smiled the smile Britt had grown to love. 



-- The End --