A Strange Summoning

Stretching the kinks out of her legs, the woman sighed as she inspected her work. It had taken months of research and planning, but that was nothing compared to the hundreds of years that passed before. When business first started to decline, she really did not care as much as the others; she merely took more from each "client" to make up for the drought they were suffering. Within a few years, however, the trickle she fed upon had ceased entirely.

At the time, she and her sisters had figured it was just a passing phase. Maybe the Church had finally gotten past trying to sell salvation and managed to get that "Inquisition" thing rolling. It seemed rather strange that for all of their blustering, they did very little to keep her kind out of their world. Maybe it was because of how many of their number had sought her services, she contemplated with a grin.

Fortunately, her dry spell was about to come to an end. The circle on the floor, drawn in her own blood would see to that. She unfurled her wings while stretching her back, taking a moment to draw her hands down her form. Her bust was modest, but fit quite snugly in her hands. What they lacked in size, they made up for in shape. Despite being the eldest of her sisters, they had not sagged in the slightest. Her dark nipples stood out against her olive color skin.

Bringing her hands down, she traced the edge of her stomach, dragging her fingers along the shelf of her hips. They were wide, even for her kind, and probably her best feature. By her reckoning, anyway. Content with her day's work, she strode off to bed, figuring it best to put a good night's sleep between her and the ritual. Her kind were not known for their skill in summoning, and rituals always had a chance of ending poorly. One of her sisters had once been the target of an incomplete spell. Only her bottom half, from the navel down, had been summoned. Needless to say, the contract was still fulfilled, but it was an error she did not want to make herself.

Despite her best efforts, she could not seem to fall asleep. Some mixture of apprehension and excitement prevented her from obtaining any rest. To make matters worse, the longing in her nethers was the worst she had felt in centuries, the prospect of breaking her long celebacy having re-awoken her carnal appetite. Resigning herself to a late start tomorrow, she decided to give herself "one last hurrah," if only to ease her own tension.

She let her mind drift, calling back memories of some of her favorite clients. Her mind was drawn back repeatedly to one man in particular, a knight who fought in some holy war long ago. He initially sought the comfort of human women, frustrated by the politics of the Church. When his commander ordered that they abandon their quest to the holy land to instead loot another city to finance the war, he defected. Apparently, that city believed in the same god he did, or something to that effect. She never cared much about the particulars, though he did tell her in great detail. Long story short, the excommunicated and now broke ex-crusader sought the kind of comfort only her kind could provide.

She had reveled his apostasy almost as much as their more carnal activities. Sometimes, she would remind him of how much he had lost, what his God would think of what (and who) he had done. The way he would take her, the way he poured his anger and regret into her with every hard thrust was simply indescribable. In all her time taking her fill from mortal men, she had never been with one so passionate, so dominant. However, when she did not choose to incite his fury, he seemed almost...loving. Perhaps he was one of the few who actually followed the tenants of his faith.

Unlike her other "clients", he treated her as another person, not just some toy to use and discard. At first, she found it uncomfortable to have a summoner who would talk to her for a while, or offer her food and drink. In time, however, she grew to appreciate his strange, somewhat romantic style. She wondered if human whores were treated like that, but she figured that her generally poor treatment was more a factor of her occupation rather than her species.

The thought of having him lie with her again excited her more than she would have cared to admit. Her hands were already rolling over her breasts unbidden. For a while, she just kneaded her mounds, remembering the firm grasp of his hands. They were calloused from years of fighting, nothing at all like the petite, silken hands groping her right now. Even if they lacked the strength she longed for, hundreds of years of experience as a literal sex demon gave her hands supernatural skill as her fingers dug into her skin. She felt her breathing quicken as her hands circled inwards, rubbing gently around her now-stiff nipples.

She remembered the way that he would tug and twist them between two fingers, pulling hard enough to milk her, had she been a cow. Her own hands pulled and tweaked at her sensitive nubs, eliciting a moan, half pleasure, half pain, but entirely what she craved right now. The harder she pulled, the harder she moaned as her excitement rose, driving her chest up as her back arched. She could not help but splay a hand out to run down her stomach, feeling the tightening of the muscles underneath as they prepared for a long night.

Her fingers passed over her hairless mound, spreading as they went, rounding the bend and coming to a rest with two fingers on each side of her slit. Her knight had never been much for foreplay - not that she needed it when she was with him - but she always wished he had. As she imagined his strong, rough fingers scraping around her folds, she trailed her own around her slit, slowly rubbing parallel to its length while inching closer and closer with each pass. A pleasant heat rose within her as she reached her outer folds, still merely tracing them up and down at a relaxed pace. Her other hand had slowed too, gently pulling at her pert nipple and fondling her breast. She maintained a steady pace for some time, running her fingers up and down with the barest amount of pressure, tickling gently around her entrance.

As she felt a slight trickle of wetness reach her fingers, she began to press harder, slowly bringing her fingers inside her moist slit. She ran one finger down the center, rubbing up and down, barely pressing between her lips. Her finger slid easily through her, aided by the considerable wetness now building at its mouth. With each stroke, she let herself dip slightly at the bottom, teasing at the entrance to her passage, but never quite penetrating it. On each stroke upwards, she ran the full length of her finger over her pearl, gently sliding over its hood while avoiding the exposed flesh beneath. She could feel herself flush as her body screamed at her to go faster, harder, but she would not let herself end this so quickly.

She had not been so turned on in centuries and was enjoying the way she could tease even herself. Her other hand left her breast, giving her nipple a parting flick before descending to join its partner. She spread her lips with the new hand, exposing more of the sensitive flesh inside to her ministrations. A single finger ran slowly around the outside of her pink flesh, coming in a little further with each circle.

Right as the finger was about to enter her fully, she pulled it back with a groan. Admiring the shining strand that joined her finger to her entrance, she pulled her finger until the line broke, leaving a thin trail of fluid running up her belly. Her finger found its way to her mouth, where she sucked and licked at it, savoring her own taste as her tongue ran over its length. When her hand returned, it was with a new fervor, her lust driven ever higher by her own taste and smell. Even still, she did not allow her finger to penetrate her, instead tracing around the clit. She would occasionally flick or prod the exposed nub, drawing out a sharp hiss with each contact. She was positively dripping now, leaking almost nonstop. A dark stain began to form beneath her as it ran in streams over the tight hole underneath. The smell of her juices as they pooled around her excited her even further. A remote part of her mind found it amusing that a succubus could be aroused by her own pheromones, but the rest of her mind did its best to ignore it, grasping at the pleasure just out of reach.

Before she lost her mind, she conceded to her desire and allowed a finger into her passage. Immediately, she felt herself begin to tense in anticipation. The finger slid in slowly, going in barely an inch before stopping. She relished the control she still had as her finger drove in and out, fully exiting before driving back inside. With each motion, she drew deeper until she felt her hand press against her sex. As she pulled out, she pointed her finger upwards, scraping against her top wall, searching for her favorite spot. She jerked slightly as she ran over it, dragging slowly to extend the pleasure. When her finger re-entered her, it was joined by another as they worked deeper inside. Again, they prodded against her spot, making her gasp and her back arch further.

No longer able to restrain herself fully, her other hand rubbed circles around and over her clit as she continued to stroke her insides. As a third finger slipped in, her mind was brought back to her memories. He would tease her for a while before entering fully, just slipping in his head and pulling it out. Her fingers followed her memory, brushing and feeling around just inside her hole while she continued to rub around her nub. She pictured what it looked like when he entered her. His girth was amazing, filling her fully as she stretched to accommodate his member. He would pull almost all the way out - far enough that his rim would escape her grasp - before thrusting back in. Her hand was worked overtime to relive the sensation. At some point, her fourth finger joined the others as she penetrated herself over and over. Despite how much she was stretching herself, she was surprised at how easily her fingers made it to her deepest places. It felt like every inch of her passage was drawing her in deeper, desperately trying to fill itself, to relive the memory.

As her pace increased, her breathing began to hitch. No longer moaning, she was gasping, pulling air into her lungs in time with her thrusts. Her fingers were curling, scraping and prodding at her g-spot with every pull out. She was slamming in and out of her cunt so quickly that the sensations began to blur together into a single, continuous wave of pleasure. She felt her body warm and clench as she approached her peak, her other hand rubbing so furiously over her clit that droplets of sex splattered all over her mound. She was frantic, slapping her palm onto her pussy every time she dipped inside, still picturing the knight's cock grinding and stretching her walls. Her hand was cramping with the force she was using, but she felt her release approaching. She could not bring herself to stop now, even if she wanted to.

The heat that had been building inside her now spread, quickly running all the way up to her head as her eyes began to lose focus. She was so close now, nearly lost in the ecstasy. Her whole body grew stiff, only her hands moving as they worked even faster towards her release. Her breathing stopped, her body bracing for the hardest orgasm she's had in ages. Just as the knight in her mind hilted, spraying his warmth inside her, the pleasure broke. Starting from her groin, it rolled over her like an earthquake, her body shaking with delight.

Even as she came, her hands did not stop, the one forcing its way inside even as her cunt pushed against it as it contracted. She dug her hands into her g-spot as they came out, pushing her orgasm so far that her vision grew white. For what felt like eternity, she just hung there, cresting upon wave after wave of pleasure, never really coming down except to rise again. Her chest hurt with how tight it was and how long she had gone without air. Even still, she would have done anything to hold onto this sensation even a big longer. Just before she blacked out - from pleasure of lack of air, it would be hard to be certain - her orgasm receded enough for her to catch her breath.

Panting deeply, she slowed her hands down, careful to not hurt herself while still trying to extend the feeling as long as she could. Normally, she would try to keep going, her demonic body more than willing to give up multiple orgasms as she saw fit. This time, she felt as though any more would drive her to madness, so she merely let herself down slowly, myriad aftershocks coursing through her as her body tried to resume normal operation. She would never know how long it would take her to come down from her post-orgasmic high, as she quickly fell asleep, too exhausted to even remove her hands. As she drifted off, her last thoughts were of how the crusader would fall beside her, pulling her into his embrace as they both recovered. Deep inside, she wished that he would be there, next to her, when she awoke.

She woke slowly, stretching silently to relieve the stiffness from last night's activities. She would need to be at her peak performance today, so no stiff muscles would be allowed to distract her. She would have to change the sheets now, but she needed to clean herself up first. She left the tub to fill, taking the opportunity to strip her bed, replacing the sopping linens. The bath was a tad too hot, but the heat did help soothe her limbs. On top of her soreness from last night, she had apparently slept atop her arm all night, leaving in numb and fairly useless.

The water proved an almost immediate panacea, relaxing her almost to the point of dozing off. With a start, she shook herself awake, not wishing to drown on the day of the ritual. Remembering the cause for her excitement, she washed herself vigorously to prepare for the day. She paid special attention to make sure he hands did not loiter, since she could ill afford to lose any more time to rubbing one out. For the first time in centuries, she paid special attention to her coal-black hair, grooming herself as she used to when anticipating the return of a regular. She found the return of her own habits somewhat comforting. While she had enjoyed having some time off to further her studies, being blue-balled for centuries was hardly something she would wish to repeat.

It was nice to get back into the old routines, to once again practice the purpose of her existence. It was something she had always been grateful for, something she enjoyed lording over the humans. She had purpose. Design. Intent. While they stumbled through life trying to assign value to things like religion, family, or power, she knew that she was born with a single purpose. That she wholeheartedly enjoyed her calling was really just icing on the cake. Thick, ropey ici- she chided herself for her lapse as she pulled herself out of the tub. She had lived the last few centuries like a mortal scholar, collecting fragments of lore and wisdom, at first out of boredom, but then with intent. She would simply have to hold on to that side of herself for a few more hours until she could wave goodbye to it forever.

She dried herself off quickly and slipped into a set of long, drab robes. Looking like a mage helped her focus on the task at hand. The rest of her wardrobe reminded her too much of her main gig, a mindset not conducive to the intricacies of performing magic. She checked off her list of tasks in her mind, ensuring that she had not forgotten anything. Assured that all her preparations were complete, she took one last look over the seal she had created around her home. While being the eldest of her sisters meant that they generally respected her space and privacy, she doubted that any familial loyalty would restrain them now if they sensed a man.

She was quite proud of herself, really. She was the only succubus she knew of that had ever managed to master any form of magic outside of seduction. It wasn't that her kind couldn't, they simply never wished to. The rest thought her mad as she left her home, wandering around the continent to learn the magic of humans. She knew that it was only their shortsightedness speaking, that they never stopped fucking each other for long enough to think outside of the box. She snickered slightly at her own pun as she approached the diagram she had finished last night. An enormous circle, easily twice as wide as she was tall, filled with arcane glyphs and wards sat in the middle of her floor. Apparently, the act of summoning a human was considerably more complicated than summoning a demon. She never recalled seeing so elaborate a circle when she was called. It occurred to her that perhaps demons were meant to be summoned, their essence making the task easier. It also occurred to her that she had no idea how to return her victim after she had her way with him. She would work out those details later. Perhaps she would gain a new pet.

While pondering the intricacies of summoning non-demons, a though had risen to the fore. She had always given her "clients" trinkets - usually locks of hair (not always from her head) - to use to direct their summoning. Without them, any succubus could have been summoned by accident. Some of her former consorts had left such things with her as well, sometimes even willingly. Sure, everyone she "loved" was dead, but that did not mean that the trinkets were without use. Maybe the next-of-kin was summoned? Maybe it just dragged in their skeleton?

While she had no particular interest in those particular bones, the mage that had been growing inside her had its curiosity piqued. She set to work, digging through her box of scraps, the pieces of her past drawing back memories of their original owners. Bored royalty. Corrupt priests. Mad wizards. A human prostitute simply seeking advice. And a knight. She had forgotten that he had even left her this token. She tumbled the signet ring in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship that humans put into symbols of authority. He had given it to her on their last meeting. He abandoned his name and title to start anew. As a mere commoner, he had found a woman and meant to start a new life and build a family. He had given her the ring partially as a token of remembrance, partially to seal off the last vestiges of his old life: his title, and her. Not wishing to relive that memory anymore, she rose, ring in hand, and approached the diagram.

Hours later, her concentration was wavering. She had never imagined that the ritual would be so difficult. Perhaps she made a mistake by trying to summon a specific person. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely certain that anything would happen at all. To her, the prospect of another night alone felt like another century of abstinence; she resolved herself to see this through to the end. With new determination, she restarted the spell in earnest, suddenly thankful for the patience and concentration she had learned over the centuries. Within seconds, she felt that something was different this time. A coursing sensation ran through her body as the circle began to glow faintly. Excitement vied with trepidation in her mind; she could not turn back now. With a crack, the spell released its energy. When the surprise and momentary disorientation lifted, she lifted her gaze to appraise the fruit of her labor.

Before her now sat a man, likely in his early twenties by her reckoning. His build was slight but not slim, the kind that would fill out nicely if he ever took the time to build it properly. Brown hair and brown eyes did little to distinguish his unexceptional appearance. Really, the man practically personified normal. Except that he was completely naked. He sat with his pants around his ankles, leaning slightly back in what she assumed to be some kind of chair. Standing proudly before her, at eye level with her kneeling form, was his erection, wrapped tightly in his hand. For a moment, they regarded each other silently, his hand still moving slowly, as if unsure how to respond to this entirely unexpected series of events. Moments ticked by, neither party blinking nor speaking. Then, as if they had coordinated beforehand, the screaming began. The human pushed himself backwards, the chair rolling across the floor with ease until he tipped, spilling to the floor with cock still in hand, though it was shrinking rapidly. The succubus, to her credit, stood her ground, though she did curl into a "defensive" position on her side.