A Strange Summoning

She was too startled to say anything, much less stop the man now straddling her. Mere moments ago, he was completely paralyzed and subject to her whims. Despite this, the expression on his face exuded confidence, as if she had been playing right into his hands. So accustomed to being in control, his sudden aggressiveness had left her totally nonplussed. Not wasting a moment, he slid his face down, kissing along her neck as he went. She was still as aroused as ever, having gotten too caught up in playing with her prisoner to properly attend to her own needs. Her flushing returned as he made his way from her neck to her breasts, sucking tenderly on her delicate skin.

He purposely avoided a nipple as he traced her breasts with his mouth, leaving a trail of wetness as he continued downwards. His hands joined his mouth as he ran down her stomach. She pushed herself up to meet him as he slowly worked his hands over her and played with her navel with a tongue. His slowness was agonizing and he gave no sign of speeding up. As his mouth reached her hips, he darted off to the side, continuing to nibble and lick down the inside of her leg as he hefted it up above him. His hands were massaging firmly about her thigh, no doubt feeling her taught muscles as she fought against her own building arousal.

Hooking his arm around her other leg, Jacob placed her knees atop his shoulder and began working his way back up a leg. While he was at least moving in the right direction, it seemed to the succubus that he had slowed further still. The way he handled her body, how he savored every inch of it as he claimed it with his mouth, made her flush with excitement. None but her knight, presumably some distant ancestor of the man between her legs now, had ever made her feel like this. She had half a mind to simply pull him in right now and smother him with her sex, but could not bring herself to move.

She was transfixed, watching him as he worked ever closer to his destination, seemingly oblivious to her need. He was mere inches away now, but stopped his progress completely, letting his fingers play across her inner thighs, sliding smoothly over the spit that slicked her skin. For the first time since he began, he looked up at her, slowly moving his head, mouth open, directly for her crotch. His breath tickled as he held himself in front of her, breathing slowly while she watched. She closed her eyes as he moved in, clenching at her pillows as she prepared herself. Nothing happened. Her eyes shot open when she no longer felt his breath, only to find him resting his chin on her mound, smiling. "You never told me your name, you know."

"Ellie."

An interesting name for a succubus, to say the least. Then again, Jake had no real idea what kind of name a succubus would have in the first place. At the very least, he expected something more Latin or Greek. Satisfied with himself, he dove back between her legs, pausing for a moment to bask in her heat. She was wet, almost ridiculously so, a pool of her fluids spreading over the sheets even as he watched. With both hands, he spread her wide before him, exposing the inside of her dripping sex to him. Even though she was spread wide before him, he intentionally avoided her most sensitive parts, licking and sucking around the outside, cleaning her of her arousal. Her taste was sweet but rich and tangy, reminding him vaguely of pumpkin pie.

As he licked, she continued to leak, her fluids building faster than he could reach them. Consigning himself to defeat, he moved to drink from the source. Working its way up from near her pucker, his tongue ran over the entirety of her sex, pulling gently at her as it went. She moaned in frustration when he stopped right before reaching her nub. For a moment, his tongue wiggled all around it, eventually poking almost imperceptibly at her hood before retracting to start again at the bottom.

Time after time, he licked up her flower, each time stopping before reaching her clit. She tried to force herself onto him, but his hands gripped tightly above her hips and forced her down into the bed, trapping her. He loved the sounds she was making, the slow moans followed by grunts of frustration as he teased her, never giving more stimulation than his gentle poking at her hood. Her groin was so flushed it was practically red, and her heat was stifling. It was all he could do to not give in, to let her musk drive him wild and into her waiting snatch. He steeled himself against the temptation and started again at the bottom of her slit. As his tongue approached her pearl, he could feel her tense, preparing to be let down yet again as he skipped over it again. This time, however, would be different.

She was bracing herself, preparing to be let down again by what she believed had to be the cruelest tongue in existence. Instead of lifting off like he usually did, his tongue was pressing deeper as he ran up the length of her sex. His full tongue was running up her now, not just the tip. Her legs clamped down, desperately trying to push him deeper inside of her. She held her breath as his tongue crept closer, using what little leeway he left her to press herself into his face. Then, finally, she felt him on her clit, working his tongue slowly but firmly over the bump. She gasped and shook, feeling her back rise off the bed as he stimulated her. With a sharp flick of the tip of his tongue, she pracitcally squeaked, the sudden movement so unlike his rhythmic stimulation so far. Before she could recover, he changed pace, now lapping rapidly at her clit with a speed and force that swept her off her feet.

Her moans broke down into pained grunting and incoherent mumbles as her mind packed up shop and left. Her head felt light while the rest of her felt heavy, muscles spasming all over. Her mouth was hanging open deliriously, sound escaping almost constantly as she approached her peak. With her eyes held shut, she did not see his fingers poised at her entrance, waiting for the right moment to slide in. She felt his mouth close around her as he inhaled, suction pulling her clit gently into his mouth. It was too much for her to take, her orgasm coming to a head when his tongue slashed furiously over her, stimulating her almost to the point of pain. Her hips bucked, no longer being held to the bed as she came, a torrent of her juices spraying out wildly as he body shook with orgasm. Right as she began to come down, she felt a pair of fingers push into her still-quivering quim.

He released her from his mouth and moved to kneel beside her as his fingers worked their way in and out of her. It was obvious that she was still coming down and probably far too sensitive, but that did little to dissuade Jacob from continuing his assault on her cunt. He watched as she looked up at him, eyes still distant and unfocused, trying to read his intentions. Paying her no heed, he curled his fingers, feeling around for her g-spot while his other hand pressed firmly on her mons to restrain her. With a grin, he pulled his hand up, grinding his palm over her clit as his fingers prodded the sensitive spot within. She nearly screamed, his dual-assault on her still-sensitive snatch too much for her to take.

Still, he was relentless, pushing and pulling up and down with a fevered pace, the sloshing sound of her sex being tugged and stretched so violently almost drowning out the sounds coming from her mouth. She was gasping and struggling, incapable even of moaning as he pressed on. Her vision shook and ears rang as he gripped her tighter. She could feel every motion, his knuckles slamming into her back wall right before his fingers rammed into her spot, pleasuring her in ways she had never felt before. All the while, his palm ground mercilessly against her nub.

It was all too much. It would have hurt if she could feel anything outside of the pressure and heat rising inside her with every violent shake of his hand. Her arms and legs went numb as she focused on the pleasure, all other senses drowned out as she came. When she came, it was without sound, her body incapable of crying out as it strained, her entire body coming off the bed, forced up by her wings. Her mouth hung open, eyes tightly shut as she threw her head back, totally lost in the force of her orgasm. She felt his hand leave her, forced out by her contractions. She knew that she was squirting, her love soaking everything around her as she came. She thought she could hear laughing as her mind faded, overloaded and brought to its knees as her pleasure slowly receded. Within seconds, she was out like a light.

Jacob's amusement ceased as he checked her pulse, making sure she was still breathing. Content that he had merely fucked a succubus unconscious instead of to death, he suddenly remembered the situation at hand. He had been sitting in his apartment, masturbating when he found himself suddenly sitting before robed woman who turned out to be a succubus named Ellie. Stranger things had probably happened, but never to him. Life had been mostly uninteresting, if comfortable, before today. He realized that he had no idea how long he had been here, or where "here" was. He stood up from the bed and wandered out of the room, content to let sleeping demons lie. The enormous circle on the floor looked like a bad stage prop for a horror film. The edges of the lines cracked, giving the distinct - and probably accurate - impression that they were drawn in blood. He briefly dismissed the idea that it could be magical before remembering that he had been abducted from his home by a succubus. Indeed, magic seemed pretty reasonable a culprit in this circumstance.

Continuing his search of his summoner's home, he found an ornate and excessively large tub sitting in a room next to a hole in the floor that he assumed to be for disposing of waste. In the next room, an empty pot sat next to a small fireplace. If she was going to kidnap him and then fall asleep, he figured she at least owed him a meal or two. He searched her cupboards, taking out anything that looked like it could make a stew, which is to say, everything. He wasn't much of a cook, but he was also hungry and figured that it was pretty much impossible to screw up a stew. While he was waiting for the pot to boil, it struck him that very little prevented him from simply leaving. It had not occurred to him before, but it isn't like he was chained to a wall or anything. Sure, he would rather not be naked while he made his escape, but one must pick his battles. He may as well try to get a bearing on where he was, so he made his way to the door, but not before realizing that he had yet to see a window. Maybe it was her own little rape shack in the woods. He cracked the door, careful to not expose himself, had he turned out to find himself in the middle of a city. Fortunately, that was not going to be a concern.

He stood with the door now open, looking out into the landscape before him. Though it was night, there was enough light for him to make out the sheet of volcanic glass the house appeared to sit on. It was polished incredibly smooth, no blemishes marking its surface. It stretched out a good thirty feet until a strange fog blocked any further vision. The fog appeared solid, starting suddenly and stretching from the floor to well over his head. Right. Well, back to the kitchen, it seems. Fortunately, his detour had given the pot enough time to come to a boil. He chopped ingredients, humming softly to himself as he prepared his meal. He was thankful for his totally uninteresting day, which involved absolutely no demons, no strange magic, and definitely no shitting in a hole in the floor.

His humming grew louder as he chopped faster, eager to finish cooking like he did every day, in a pot over a fire. He cut himself a few times, but he would not let a little blood interrupt his wonderful day. Blood was nutritious, after all. Into the pot it goes. He was grinning from ear to ear, nearly laughing as the rest of the vegetables and some more of his blood dropped into the pot. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought her head someone telling him that he had gone mad. Determined not to let such a small thing ruin his lovely day, he started rummaging through the pantry, looking for something to silence the voice.

Ellie awoke with a start with the sound of glass shattering. Looking around the room, she realized that her captive was nowhere to be seen. She knew that no one could have entered or left her property with the wards she had built, so she took her time getting up. She quickened her pace somewhat as she heard metal hitting the ground and more glass breaking. She nearly broke into a run when the sounds stopped. She rummaged through her closet hurriedly, picking out her most revealing clothing and throwing it on, not bothering to clean herself up before investigating the source of the noise.

The sound had seemed to come from the kitchen, so she took off towards it, careful not to make too much noise. Pots, pans, and utensils lay scattered across the floor, intermingled with broken glass and the liquids and spices that had once been contained within. The fire hissed as the contents of a pot boiled out and into the fire. Who the hell sacks a kitchen? Furiously, she tore around the house, looking for "Jake". Her stomping was interrupted by the sound of water splashing in the bathroom. She rounded the corner, ready to punish her prisoner for demolishing her kitchen, when she was stopped in her tracks. Her "prisoner" was lounging in her tub, playing idly with an empty bottle that floated within. Another bottle sat in his hand, dangling outside the tub and already half-empty. She was saving those for a special occasion, since good liquor was hard to come by in these parts. The sight of the bottles brought her anger back to the fore, her lungs filling themselves in preparation for the scolding to come when he spoke.

"Nice weather we're having today, isn't it?" She blinked, completely thrown off by the stupid look on his face. The drunkenness on his face was overwritten instantly by a rictus grin and a wild stare that seemed to be focused somewhere past her. Thinking she missed something, she checked behind her to confirm that there was, in fact, no phantasmal intruder lurking behind her. "Gas prices went down, too. And Games Workshop announced a sale!" Oh, god. He lost it. Her anger fell away completely, swept away by concern and more than a little unease. She stood in the doorway, mind turning over, as he pushed the empty bottle underwater while making "bloop" sounds.

When the bottle was full, he upturned it over his head, laughing as the water spilled over his face. Dropping the bottle back into the water, his attention shifted to the other, lifting it to his face. He cried out in annoyance when she pulled the bottle from his slippery hand, replacing the cork and putting it outside the bathroom. He pouted as she crouched next to the tub, puffing himself up and preparing to fight over the bottle. Suddenly, she gasped and pointed behind him, covering her mouth. He spun and readied himself to face whatever unseen assailant interrupted his bath and stole his friend. When nothing but a blank wall met his gaze, he turned back just in time to see her fist en-route to his jaw.

She had never actually punched someone before, and was slightly taken aback by how much it hurt. His jaw must be more solid than she anticipated. Still, she felt slightly bad for cold-cocking a man who had clearly seen better days. Heh. Cock. She chuckled slightly as she pulled him out of the tub and dried him off. With no little effort, she dragged him back into the bedroom and dropped him on the bed, trying to avoid the wettest spots. For a while, she sat on the bed, checking on him to make sure he was okay. After about a quarter hour, she slipped out, grabbing the bottle she had set down earlier, and slipping into the tub.

It had been one hell of a day, and now seemed as good a time as any to drink. He opened the bottle anyway, no sense in not finishing it off now. It's practically alcohol abuse. She let the bath drain away her stress as she polished off the rest of the bottle. After some time, she drained the tub and dropped into bed. She couldn't very well change the sheets with him on top of them, and it's not like she could make them much wetter. Before long, she was shivering, her wet skin definitely a poor choice, but getting out of bed less attractive still. Glancing at her bedmate, she inched towards him before wrapping his arm around her and snuggling into his alcohol-assisted warmth. Finally comfortable, she fell quickly into sleep.

To his knowledge, no one has ever died from a hangover. Life would not afford Jacob this small mercy. He couldn't really remember drinking, but he did remember bits of a strange dream he had. Something about a succubus and gas prices going down. That'll be the day. He could not quite muster the enthusiasm to get up, even to take something to alleviate the worst hangover in his life. Instead, he consigned himself to a day in bed, snuggling tightly into a pillow.

After a moment, a thought managed to pierce the fog covering all of his thoughts. Pillows don't breath. They also aren't made out of skin. The fog cleared as he snapped awake, scrambling away from the breathing flesh pillow, which was now moving. Groggy eyes appeared, looking him over as he nearly fell off the bed. As the pillow yawned and stretched, his will to care failed and he collapsed back onto the bed, the pain between his eyes vastly outperforming his limited enthusiasm. He felt the pillow grow closer, breathing onto his neck. A hand came to rest lightly over his temple and began to massage. As the hand moved, the agony slowly subsided, taking with it the haze that coated his thoughts. He opened his eyes and turned to thank the owner of the mysterious hand when he found himself eye-to-eye with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Except she had horns. And wings. Fuck.

The succubus...Ellie, or something like that, was saying something about magic for hangovers, but he chose to ignore it, rolling back over and hoping that sleep would solve his problems. Her shaking him seemed to indicate that she did not appreciate his reaction, eventually jostling him enough that sleep was going to be impossible. He returned her gaze, trying his best to ignore the horns and wings. Despite their proximity, neither could find anything to say. The silence grew awkward as it dragged on until Jacob stood, stretched, and informed the demon that he should probably be going now. It occurred to him that he had no idea how to leave, so he found himself standing uncomfortably at the food of the bed, awaiting a response. When it came, the full impact of the moment finally hit him. She had no idea how to get him back, and he didn't even know where he was.

He couldn't possibly walk back, he knew that for sure. It struck him that he may be stuck here forever, forced to live with this...beautiful sex demon. But that was not the point. It was not the life he chose, and he wouldn't be forced into it. He informed her as such and turned to leave. He strode confidently out of the bedroom and back to stand in the middle of the fading circle he had first appeared in. If it worked one way, it had to work the other way. He did not know how the thing worked, but maybe if he just stood there for long enough, something would happen. As the minutes ticked by, he came to the realization that nothing was going to happen, no matter how long he stared. Maybe stubborning portals open wasn't as easy as they let on.

A scraping sound announced the presence of another, breaking him from his reverie. The demoness had drug in a chair from the kitchen and set herself into it. She wore a sheer gown that seemed to cling to her body, particularly around her chest and hips. It left little to the imagination, yet carried a hint of respectability. She gestured lazily to the chair he had arrived on, bidding him to take a seat. He wheeled over to face her, taking his time to get comfortable. "We need to talk."