Meirdre Naire intoned the arcane words in a near whisper. The athame in her hand glowed with power as she etched the sigils into the air, into reality. A circle, drawn in her own blood, laid on the hardwood floor in front of her. Across the circle knelt Mar'drac, an incubus. His eyes were closed in concentration. Runes decorated his charcoal skin as well, and the candelight cast shadows across his nude form. His humanized name was Mardrake, given to him by Meirdre. It was easier on her tongue and made him, and their love, all the more real.
Meirdre's chant reached its crescendo. Power crackled in the air. The circle became refulgent with energy. Mardrake rose from his knees and stepped into the circle. He began to stiffen in anticipation of the ritual. Meirdre rose to her feet and shifted out of her black robe. To Mardrake's eyes, Meirdre had only grown more beautiful as she aged. She had to be over a hundred years old, by now, but she looked like a youthful fifty something. Her body was still youthful and fit, her face carried her age elegantly, perhaps with less wrinkles than one would expect. Gray streaked through her deep auburn hair. Magic played a part in her ageless look, to be sure, but Meirdre embraced her mortality in a way that Mardrake could never understand, only love.
Naked now, Meirdre stepped into the circle and into Mardrake's waiting arms. He pressed his body close to hers, his penis sheathing itself between her thighs and lips, slowly stiffening into her wetness. Meirdre looked into his black eyes, her bright grays seeing his true self, his true name.
"We don't have to do this, my love," Mardrake said.
"Shush," Meirdre responded, "I will hear no more about it."
Mardrake smiled ruefully, "Alright, let us begin then."
This was a forbidden ritual in the underworld. It would bind Mardrake to Meirdre, granting her protection and, more importantly, the power of his infernal heritage. For decades, Mardrake's master had demanded Meirdre be enslaved. A powerful witch was a useful tool, and Mardrake's commander, K'azul, would entertain their relationship no longer. What K'azul didn't know, and what would send Mar'drac to oblivion if he found out, was that Mardrake and Meirdre had birthed a half breed not long ago. The couple had gone to great lengths to hide their child's existence from the legions of hell, even from some of Meirdre's family. With this ritual, he granted his human family freedom from the demonic, even should it cost him his existence. For Meirdre, and for their daughter, though, he would do it.
The seven-foot incubus leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Meirdre's. She kissed him back hungrily. The ritual required true lust, true sexual magic, to complete. Meirdre had to have complete concentration, yet her mind still lingered on the dangers that lay in front of them. Mardrake risked everything to help her. Should his master find out, he would face an eternity of torment, she would be castigated to hell, a slave. Meirdre pushed the thoughts down. They had sealed the room, hidden their magic from prying eyes. It should be safe.
Meirdre's hands felt their way down to the hilt of his cock. She took him in hand. He was well endowed, bigger than any human she had ever seen, better than any human, too. Meirdre stroked him as he became fully erect. A drop of precome beaded at the tip of his glans. An incubus's precome was an invaluable magical reagent. It was a venom that incubi used it to snare women. One taste on a woman's lips, or in her orifices, and she became ravenous for the incubus in question. Done enough times, or with enough venom, and the woman became a thrall. Only the demon could remove the need, and Mardrake could count on one hand the number of times he had released one of his thralls from their servitude. As his consort, Meirdre had tasted his precome countless times, even taken it for her own potions and spells, and he had always released her.
Meirdre knelt in front of him and, her eyes looking up into his, took the round tip of his glans into her mouth. She gently sucked the precome out of his hole. It began its infernal work immediately. Her loins flared with heat, her mind melted in his presence, replaced with fiery desire. The world faded away, and only he, Mardrake, remained.
"Lift me, my love. Take me," Meirdre commanded.
Mardrake wrapped his hands around her waist and picked her up off the ground. He held her in front of him like a doll, weightless and easily manipulated. He placed her drenched slit on the head of his penis and began to lower her onto him. Raw magic crackled in the air around them, the circle growing brighter as he entered her. It was going to work, the ritual would work! Meirdre relished the fullness Mardrake's penis gave her. Mardrake lifted her up and down his shaft like a toy. Deep down, Meirdre loved to be used, and Mardrake had seen her innermost desires when he had first filled her with his seed.
That was an incubus's true power, to see what their prey wanted most of all and to taunt them with it until they were, in the end, a thrall to the demon. Mardrake had initially tried to enthrall Meirdre, but he soon abandoned that. When she had first summoned him, he strained wildly against the magic circle in which she had bound him. Their first conversations had been strained, to put it lightly. However, with each new summoning, each new transfer of knowledge, the pair had grown to respect one another. It took years, but finally, Meirdre relased him from his circle. Their first coupling had been a wild, ravenous affair, after years of anticipation and desire. Love blossomed where it shouldn't have, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Tonight was the culmination of their love. Mardrake would bestow the ultimate gift and seal it with the immense magical power of sex. He continued moving Meirdre up and down on him. She moaned in ecstasy as he entered her over and over. His long tongue danced out of his mouth and encircled her clit, teasing the hood and sending a frisson of bliss through Meirdre's body. He felt the power of their coupling, the air thick with magic. The ritual was going to work.
"What do we have here?" a hellish voice said from the darkness. A chorus of voices spoke with it, the voices of those women whom the demon had captured.
It was Mardrake's master, K'azul. Mardrake froze, eyes wide with terror. Meirdre, made senseless and vulnerabe by her consort's seed, looked languidly around for the voice. Mardrake lowered Meirdre onto his cock further, desperate to fill her with his seed before K'azul could interrupt the ritual. Of course, it was too late.
A blue, scaled hand emerged from the darkness and pressed against the circle's magical barrier. The air shimmered and bowed, ready to break against its touch.
"Mar'drac, you have much to answer for," K'azul called.
"K'azul, be gone from here, you are too late," Mardrake said.
He was halfway inside Meirdre now. She moaned in ecstasy. His seed had removed all fear, all sense of self preservation from her mind. Mar'drac would complete the ritual! The circle had held against K'azul! The greater demon appeared in the candelight. He stood a head taller than Mar'drac, with great scaled wings that folded along his back. K'azul's skin was a dark turqouise, his eyes blood red, his hair white. Small horns protruded from his hair. Instead of human legs, he walked on hooves, like a satyr. K'azul extended his index finger and pressed its razor-sharp claw against the magical barrier. The air itself seemed to wobble and bend inwards. Ripples of energy surged around the circle. Mar'drac pressed further inside Meirdre, desperate to empty his need inside her. Incubi had more control over their ejaculate than men, and he was close. He could complete the ritual!
Then the world shattered.
K'azul's finger pierced the circle, shattering the magic of the ritual. K'azul wrapped a hand around Mar'drac's neck and yanked him away from Meirdre. Mar'drac flew through the air, crashing through Meirdre's bookshelves. Meirdre fell to the ground in a heap. The candles guttered out. Mar'drac jumped to his feet and raced back toward K'azul, but with a flick of his hand, cacodaemons-man-sized imp demons-materialized in the darkness and restrained Mar'drac.
"Don't touch her!" Mar'drac screamed.
"She has weakened you, brother," K'azul said, "Only you are too blind to see. I am saving you."
Mar'drac raged against the demons holding him. His roars of fury carried the voices of those within him. The very earth shook with his rage. It mattered not. Meirdre stirred on the ground, climbed to her hands and knees. K'azul took a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. He chanted in demonic, and with his other hand, he extracted Mar'drac's magic. His fingers moved in arcane patterns and drew the seed out of Meirdre like he was extracting venom from a snakebite. Meirdre retched as K'azul pulled it from her mouth, a translucent string of energy that swirled into a ball in K'azul's crooked fingers. When it had all been extracted, K'azul crushed it in his fist.
