One of the elements of my life that had been, for so long, a thorn in my side recently has been resolved. You see, I am a doleramancer, or in the vulgar argot, a practitioner of pain magick. While theories on pain magick vary, I personally see it as what happens when sex magick grows up and gets nasty. To put it simply, the fuel for my most powerful works of will will always be pain, though I can subsist on the lower order of sexual energy. This may not seem a bad thing to you, but allow me to explain.
Lilah, my pet, is a succubus, and she receives nearly all forms of stimulation as sexual pleasure. She would be an unlimited source of power for lesser sex magickans, but for a pain practitioner like me, she was useless.
Well, not useless, exactly.
Her boundless energy and perverted appetites always served me quite well as a distraction from the banality of the world. Her keen mind has been of use to me as well. And though I would never admit this to her, I am quite sure I would not be as far along my path without her at my feet. At any rate, this is the story of how Lilah learned how to experience pain.
I sent her on a simple task of gathering packages from local vendors, and other small errands. My orders were, verbatim, "You are to take the form of a woman, a housewife. A soccer mom. You are to go directly from one store to the next, and you are not to speak, touch, or even make eye contact with anyone outside of these stores. Once you have collected the final package, you are to come straight home."
She took liberties, of course. She always does. In this case she was also a bit sullen about my lack of attention lately, so in interpretation of my orders, she clothed herself in a mortal skin, a lovely young woman in her thirties with brown hair and eyes. The clothing, a cute pleated skirt and a scoop neck top, even the 'fuck me' heels were all appropriate enough, though she failed to materialize any sort of underwear. Her argument after the fact was that a housewife should always be available for use by her husband, right?
Sometimes it's hard to argue with her logic.
The weather was temperate, and even demons need fresh air once in a while, so she chose to walk the trip into town. Of course, she had already figured out her loophole, my orders said nothing about how she might interact with people inside the stores she stopped at. The vendors I deal with are all given strict instructions on how to deal with Lilah, so she would get no fun from them.
The first store was an antiques shop where she recovered a long, thin box not unlike the kind in which one might receive long stemmed flowers. To Lilah's dismay, the store was devoid of any other soul, so dejectedly, she moved on to her second stop, and here she hit pay dirt. This store, a pet store where I procure the small animals necessary to feed my... larger... pets. Lilah was not to actually pick up anything, but rather simply deliver an unmarked envelop to the girl who worked the counter. If I know my contacts, this girl didn't even look up from her magazine when she took the money. Lilah's good fortune came in the form of a 'customer' who happened to be in the store at the time.
The man was tall and muscular, sun tanned, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain white tee shirt. His attractiveness was not what called to her, though. No, it was the fact that the man was not human. Though Lilah has a keen mind, she can be lazy and has not taken her instinctual development seriously. Because of this, while she could smell that the man was not human, she could not identify precisely which breed of Night Folk he might have been. As if it mattered.
While the girl behind the counter was busy ignoring them, Lilah approached the strange man with a smile and a soft touch on his shoulder. Oh, but I know what those soft touches are capable of. "Could you help me?" She said in her sultry sweet voice, the touch of her hand on his shoulder carrying with it a powerful sexual compulsion, "I don't have a car, and I have this package that is so heavy, and you are so strong." Lilah likes to lay it on thick. Her victims rarely complain.
