The ritual lines were engraved deep in the stone. The salt Arman Lazor filled them with had been taken from the deepest sea and dried under the hottest sun. Within those lines had been written script with such precision it had made his eyes water, but it had been worth it. It would all be worth it.
For he was summoning Her.
Arman stoppered the inkpot and put it aside. His black robe felt loose, easy. Good. Good. He didn't want to be too tense. You wanted to be relaxed when summoning a greater demon of sloth.
He took a deep breath, let it out. Shook his hands. Relax, Arman. Relax. If this worked, he'd be the most powerful sorcerer this side of the Rift. If it failed... But no. He couldn't fail. He wouldn't! He knew what he was doing. He had accounted for everything. He was ready.
Steeling himself, Arman snapped his fingers. With a hiss flames erupted atop tall bronze stands, their hearts burning with incense. The succubus Sommara enjoyed the scent of lavender. Maybe it would help. Maybe not. But Arman left nothing to chance.
He was ready.
He cast his hands out over the circle, his sleeves billowing as magic began to twist in the air. Heat radiated from the carved markings. The white sand glowed red like burning coals, illuminating the signs carved in the stone.
Words spilled from Arman's lips. They filled the air like echoes, becoming whispers, becoming fairer, higher in pitch. A chill coursed down his spine as the whispers became soft sighs and moans as if spoken from another. A chorus of pleasured gasps.
The light was growing more solid within the circle. Twisting. Smoking. Twining like threads being woven within the ritual lines. Arman's nose twitched as the scent of lavender grew stronger. His eyes widened as they took on a shape. Formed soft thighs and full breasts. Wooly hair and soft tufts on hips, wrists, and ankles like fuzzy shackles.
And she was big.
Bigger than him by more than a head. Even as she reclined, the threads of light resolving to reality he could appreciate her size. Her breasts were perfect dark orbs of pillowy softness. Her figure radiated an ease and lazy indolency that suggested the finest of living. The most comfortable of pleasure and decadence. Curving sheep horns rose from her tufted hair, and her eyes opened, lidding, black but for bright golden pupils.
The giantess yawned expansively, and even this seemed coquettish and filled with physical promise that made Arman's cock throb in his robe, her glorious body stretching lazily where she lay. She smiled sleepily, cupping her chin as she tilted her head to look at him.
"Mmmm. And who has awakened Sommara from her... hmmm... slumber?"
Arman jolted back to the present, letting his arms drop. He felt drained from the magic, but knew he'd soon feel stronger than ever before.
"I am Arman," he said. "And I have a command of you."
Sommara cooed lazily, rolling over onto her side, her soft breasts wobbling with the movement, enticing his eyes. "Mmm? Command? How.... bold..."
"Is it?" he said, smirking as he gestured at the glowing rings. "You are summoned. You are bound. My commands are absolute. My power unquestioned! You will obey me, demon. And you will give me what I deserve."
"No need for such... mmm... melodrama," Sommara yawned, smiling sleepily at him. "You want... hmmm... power?"
"Of course!" he scoffed.
She giggled lazily, rolling over onto her front, her breasts squishing between her and the floor as she crossed her arms beneath her, propping up her body. "Mmm. Of course. Mortals always desire... hmm... power. Men especially."
This was going well. Perhaps too well. Arman eyed the sleepy eyed succubus thoughtfully. "No tricks," he growled, raising a hand. "I command you!"
She gasped as the circle glowed. Crimson runes pulsed along her skin like chains, binding her with the very essence that animated her. Once he was assured that she understood, he relaxed his hand, the runic glow fading. "Betrayal will be punished," he said.
"Of course... my master..." the lovely demon breathed, her eyes growing lidded again. "As you command."
"Good. Now," he growled. "The power."
"Of course, master. You seek the might... mmm... of demons," she said. "The power of hell."
"Precisely," he said.
"Then you must know, my master, how it is obtained. Yes?"
Actually, he didn't. Which had frustrated him to a great extent. Though the tomes were clear that commanding a demon could grant the summoner incredible might, the means with which it was imparted had been vague at best. Warlocks rarely made it easy for another to gain power, often hoarding the greater secrets for themselves. None of this surprised Arman, but it did put him at a disadvantage. Not that he would admit that to the creature before him.
"Of course I know," he scoffed.
"Mmm. And yet you are clothed, my master," Sommara hummed. "And to grant you that power requires nothing to obstruct the... flesh..."
Arman glared at her, but her words had the clang of truth, and it was clear his power over her was complete... "Hmph. Very well."
He slipped the robe off, baring his form. He was a strong man, unlike many other scholars. But he knew the body as well as the mind needed to be trained. A weak wizard was too often a venal one. He had no interest in the arcane powers to compensate for the weakness of flesh, but merely to augment his other strengths.
Judging by the way Sommara's eyes grew warmer, he'd say she agreed. "Very impressive... my master," she cooed, her eyes lingering on his cock.
"Must you stare?" he said, though he didn't try to cover himself.
"Do you... hmmm... object?"
He scoffed. "Hardly. I know what I am, demon."
"Yes," Sommara sighed, her voice breathy, her eyes lidded, the gold of her pupils molten as she gazed at him. "You are a man. And like all men, the true source... of your power... lies... there..."
She pointed at his cock, her finger near the edge of the circle, but never quite pushing past it.
He scowled at her. "What do you mean?"
Her full lips quirked. "Hmm... Only that men... are so mighty... with their cocks. It gives them... such power. Power that few hmmm... can resist..."
"Speak plainly," he commanded, though he was enjoying the attention she was showing him, his cock jutting out proudly, thick and swollen with arousal. And why shouldn't he? He did enjoy being admired. And seeing the power he held over this immense beauty stirred his blood in ways that excited him, as was plainly evident.
