Accidental Summoning

Author's Note: This story contains the following: Anal, Hermaphrodite, Demons, (Mild) Mind Control, Fantasy, Fellatio, Femdom, and a smidgen of Romance. You have been warned.

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Paul woke as he had gone to sleep, with Desdemona's warmth all along his back as she spooned against him. She was absently stroking his cock. Not in an erotic way, more as if she was just mulling things over.

"Um, good morning?" he said.

Her stroking stopped. "Good morning, Paul." The demon's voice sounded muted.

"Should we get going?"

Her warm hand closed around his cock. "In a bit."

Of course, she wanted to start out with fucking as the first thing in the morning. Paul began to turn over. His demonic 'host' would want to dominate him first, which meant he'd have to look in her eyes.

She slid her other arm around him and hugged him against her torso. It kept him from turning over. "No, stay like that. Keep looking away."

Paul's heart beat faster as he felt her lick the back of his neck. Her tongue left a trail of warm saliva on his skin. He was confused. Maybe he didn't need to look in her eyes anymore to get dominated? But there wasn't that odd 'disconnected' feeling he'd had previously. As near as he could tell, his mind was his own. His prick began to stir into life as she slowly massaged him.

"Do you want me to?" she whispered.

"What?" He had no idea what was going on.

She laughed softly, but there was a sad little edge to that laugh. "It's a simple question, Paul. I just want to know if you're in the mood. I feel bad about my tantrum last night, and I'd like to make it up to you. So tell me. Do you want to?"

Her hand squeezed his cock firmly, and he moaned with the pleasure. Then she began to very slowly move her hand up and down his shaft. "That's not fair," he said.

"True, but I

am

a demon after all," she whispered, then licked his ear.

It only took a little bit longer of her slow and steady stroking for him to finally nod. "Yes, I want to."

"Good boy." She hugged him closer, and his back was enveloped in the soft, furnace-like touch of her skin. "Just relax and let me make you feel good."

His breath was coming shorter as her stroking began to go ever so slightly faster. Her grip was feather-light on his cock, and she made sure on every stroke to caress his swollen head. His thoughts became ragged as his climax approached. There was an extra clarity to this pleasure that he hadn't felt in all the previous times they'd had sex; it must be because he wasn't dominated.

As he approached the edge, she stopped moving her hand and gave his glans a gentle squeeze. His rising desire subsided, and he moaned a little.

There was another hot lick on his ear. "Patience, Paul. I'll take care of you. Shut your eyes, please."

He did so, and felt her move away from his back. Her hand gripped his shoulder and moved him down so he was lying face-up on the bed. He almost laughed at the thought of what he looked like, lying there with a raging hard-on sticking straight up into the air.

Paul felt her weight settle near the foot of the bed. There was a long moment while he lay there with his heart beating fast.

Gently, oh so gently, there was a wet touch at the very tip of his member. A kiss.

One of her hands surrounded his cock again while the other stroked his stomach. "Keep your eyes closed, dear."

Paul complied, panting as her mouth once more kissed the head of his prick and then began to slowly swallow it. She stopped moving when she got the whole head in her mouth, and then began suckling on the tip of his prick like it was a teat.

Her spit ran down the sides of his member, leaving trails of warmth. Then she began stroking her hand again, smearing that warmth all over his cock. Paul cried out at the double sensation of stroking and sucking.

The hand on his stomach gave him a friendly pat as she nursed on his manhood. Paul gripped the bed and threw his head back. "AAHH!"

Desdemona worked on him faster in response. He could feel his balls contract as his orgasm came nearer. He half expected her to stop again, but she didn't. As he cried out louder, he felt himself erupt into her hungry mouth. The demon gave a pleased hum and began hungrily swallowing his seed. Her hand squeezed and massaged his cock as she continued the suction, determined to wring every last drop out of him.

Paul lay panting on the bed as she released his wilting member. He kept his eyes closed as she moved over him, and he felt the warmth from her body bake into him like he was lying on the beach.

"Paul? Open your eyes, please."

Now it was coming, he was sure of it. She was going to dominate him and fuck him silly, just like every time before. He opened his eyes.

Her face was right above his. She had a little smile on her face. As he met her yellow gaze he realized to his surprise that he felt just the same. There was no 'grip' on his mind like he'd felt before.

"Did that feel good?" she asked softly.

He just nodded. Then, on sudden impulse, he pushed his head up and kissed her. Her clawed hand gripped the back of his head as she returned the kiss with a will. Her long tongue slithered deep into his mouth, filling his mouth with her musky saliva and making him feel faint. He wrapped his arms as far as he could around her broad, muscled torso.

They continued to ravish each other for a while before Desdemona finally pulled away with a gasp. They both panted for a bit as they gazed at each other. Finally she spoke. "Oh, how I wish I could get off without dominating you." She licked his forehead and grinned. "You spicy little fuckslut."

Before Paul could reply she hauled him off of the bed and slung him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Time to meet Father!" she said all too cheerfully while she gave his ass a big squeeze.

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Now they were on a raft made of black basalt, which seemed to move without any apparent motive power through the sea of flame. Surprisingly, the heat wasn't as bad as Paul had expected, although he was still covered with a sheen of sweat. They were rapidly approaching the palace of the one that Desdemona called 'Father'.

Lucifer...sorry,

Father's

castle was an inverted pyramid that hung without apparent support over the sea of flame. It was at least the size of the Great Pyramid of Giza, probably larger. The huge granite construct was covered with glowing blue runes that reminded Paul of Sanskrit. He felt a little bit of hope at seeing them; this indicated that demons did indeed have a written language, one that he could learn. And that would give him at least a little bit of power in his currently powerless situation.

Of course, that little bit of good news was counterbalanced by the fact he was going to see the ruler of Abaddon. Although technically Desdemona was the one visiting and he was just being brought along as the subject of interest.

He looked over at her. His demonic captor looked serene, but she was doing a little bit of nervous bouncing and tail-twitching. He hoped that was due to simple excitement and not because she really was nervous. Paul himself was of two minds about the whole thing. If she was allowed to put her mark or sigil on him, then things would go on as before. And yes, she was holding him captive but it was a more-or-less pleasant captivity. At least he knew what he was in for. But if 'Father' didn't allow it, then what would happen to him? He wanted to ask, but was afraid of the answer. It could range from the very good (being sent back home) to the very bad (getting tossed out of a window into the flame-sea). This might be a literal case of 'the devil you know'.

As the raft drew nearer, there was a disturbance in the plasma-like flame before them. A huge bulk like a glowing whale rose up and towered over the raft. Paul felt a fresh blast of heat on his face. As he squinted his eyes against the thing's glare, the young man could just make out two darker circles that looked like eyes.

Desdemona gave a cheerful wave. "Hey, Alakshmi. Just heading to see Father."

Paul thought he saw those dark eyes narrow as they looked at him, then the magma-beast eased back down into the sea. The raft continued on, and the glowing orange sky began to be blotted out by the dark gray of the palace. It loomed over them both as the raft approached the 'tip' of the upside-down pyramid. The tip was truncated and didn't come to a point. It hung about ten feet off of the sea, and as the raft stopped underneath Paul saw that there was an opening in the tip that was about two meters wide. It framed a black well that led up into the palace.

"We couldn't just teleport inside?" he asked as he looked up. There was no ladder. How were they supposed to get inside?

"No, Father doesn't allow it. Come here, please." At first he thought she was going to hug him, but instead she grabbed his ass and lifted him up. "Wrap your arms and legs around me," she said. He did so, feeling a bit foolish and infantile. She held him against her, then looked up as she maneuvered them under the center of the opening. The demon looked back down and gave him a toothy smile.

"Hold on tight," she said, then crouched and jumped up into the opening. The moment they passed the lip of the hole, Paul's inner ears spun as he felt gravity shift through one hundred and eighty degrees. Now the two of them were falling head-first

down

a well of black stone, and he let out a yelp.

Desdemona chuckled as he clutched her more tightly. "Relax, babe. It's not a problem."

The sides of the well ended and now they were falling into a cavernous space. The granite floor was getting very close and Paul was just about to scream again when they stopped. They twisted gently head-over-heels and then touched down lightly onto the floor.

She gave another chuckle and kissed the top of his head. "I told you, you silly." Desdemona let go of his ass and he clambered down off of her. The room was huge, easily the size of a cathedral's interior. High above them were multiple shining orbs that cast a yellow light over them. Three of the far-off walls appeared to be decorated with more of the glowing blue runes. Against the fourth wall was a high platform with a series of shallow steps rising to meet it, and perched on top of the platform was a large throne made out of obsidian. It was oddly plain-looking, except for its impressive size. As big as she was, Desdemona would have looked like a child sitting on it.

Behind the throne was a huge picture window that looked out onto Abaddon. The view was now upside-down with the sea of flame above them and the roiling orange sky below.

Paul's heart began to beat faster when he saw that throne. Even though he knew this wasn't the afterlife and that the being he was about to meet wasn't actually the Christian version of Satan, he was still nervous. This was an entity that had managed to dominate not only the beings of this dimension but many Earth timelines as well. "What do I say?" he asked Desdemona.

Her nervous bouncing was back and her tail was lashing a little more than before. "Say nothing, unless he asks you a direct question. If he does, go ahead and answer it. But let me do the rest of the talking, okay? And don't worry if he looks mean. Father can get a little grumpy at times, but he likes me." Desdemona put her arm around him and rested her hand on his shoulder, although Paul couldn't tell if the touch was to calm him or her.

She gargled out something in her own language that echoed in the huge space. There was a brief pause, and then there was the 'VWAP' sound of a teleport from behind them. Paul heard a deeper voice gargle a response. He froze in fright, feeling like a little mouse that had been discovered by a large predator. There was a footstep behind them that seemed to shake the floor.

"Hello, Father," said Desdemona. Her head was downcast and looking at the floor, and Paul followed her example. He felt more footfalls that shook the floor as Father walked around to the front of them.

"We're speaking English, then?" said Father in a voice that sounded like it came from the bottom of a well.

"If you please," replied Desdemona. "My visit concerns this human, and he should know what we are saying."

"Very well." The Lord of Demons sounded amused. "Cripes, both of you look up. You're making me feel like the Pope or something."

Paul lifted his head and laid eyes on Father for the first time.

He was shorter than Paul and looked human, save for the horns and glowing yellow eyes. His skin was a dark olive color and he had the lean and muscled look of a man who did a lot of outdoor activity. He had no tail. Paul also saw that Father was wearing the first pair of pants that he had seen in Abaddon. They were red-colored cargo shorts and had pockets that were stuffed with various screwdrivers and wrenches. The Lord of Demons was also wearing a tan-colored safari vest with numerous pockets, all of which were similarly stuffed with tools. He had on a pair of half-moon glasses and he peered curiously at Paul over them. He wasn't smiling, but he didn't seem particularly angry.

Desdemona smiled. "Now Father, I think you would make a very impressive figure as the Pope. Maybe I should get you one of those funny hats."

Father smiled back, and his teeth were white and even like a human's. "You do that. How's my favorite little leg-breaker doing?" They hugged each other, and Paul saw that Father's head didn't even reach up to her breasts.

"I am doing well," she replied. "I am pleased to say that my intervention was effective. The Alkenor are no longer threatening Earth in the Aleph-Prime timeline."

"That's my girl." He stepped back and smiled fondly at her, then looked at Paul as the smile dropped off of his face. Paul hastily looked away. He figured that a direct stare could be considered a challenge.

He heard Father chuckle. "Who's this?"

Desdemona's voice kept its formality. "He is a human that I wish to bestow my sigil on."

Father's forehead wrinkled. "Why ask me? Just go ahead and do it. Unless..." He stepped closer to Paul and sniffed, his half-moon glasses flashing as he tilted his head. He gave an exasperated sigh. "Oh, Des. What were you thinking? What possessed you to go off into the wilds?"

"It wasn't planned," she replied. She looked abashed at Father's disapproving tone.

Paul spoke before thinking. "Some of it was my fault, sir."

Desdemona stiffened as Father regarded him with amusement. "Oh? How so?"

"I accidentally made a teleport beacon as an art project. It got her confused and she wound up in my apartment."

Father crossed his arms. "I find that hard to believe. Explain."

"Well, sir, I always had thought that our understanding of ancient Sumerian had some odd gaps in its construction..." Paul launched into a discussion of what he had done for his project. Surprisingly, Father seemed interested and didn't show any sign of impatience. His eyes didn't even glaze over. He interrupted Paul to get clarification on a couple of key points, but otherwise let him continue to the end.

"...and so I when I used that ancient prayer in my revamped system, I guess it made a beacon."

"And so Des wound up in your apartment by accident," said Father.

Paul nodded.

The Lord of Demons laughed, a great belly-laugh that seemed to shake the walls. "Amazing! We deliberately mess up the records of the Sumerian language so that nobody does this by mistake, and then you go and un-mess it. I swear, some days I don't know why I get out of bed." He looked over at Desdemona. "Do I need to ask what happened next?"

She shrugged. "He's cute. And he smells nice."

Father let out a sighing chuckle. "And after you'd had him you didn't want to give him up."

"No, I did not. He and I are very compatible. I felt it."

Father shook his head. "You

know

the rules, Des. No bringing in humans from un-domesticated timelines. We have a system in place to avoid complications. He," Father stabbed a finger at Paul, "is a walking complication. If I allow this, then other demons are also going to go haring off into the hinterlands and start grabbing humans willy-nilly. The un-domesticated humans will get pissed about

that

, they will find Abaddon, and then we have to tell them about the Foe before they're ready to hear it. It will become very messy. You know I hate mess."

"I understand, Father. I will abide by whatever your decision is."

He put his hands on his hips. "I know you will. You're a good girl. But you do look happier than you have in a long time. I would love to just grant your request, but I can't be seen playing favorites." He gave her a smile. "Even if you

are

my favorite."

"We could disguise his scent," Desdemona mused.

The Lord of Demons thought a bit. "I have a spell that should do the trick. I can weave it into his sigil. But I thought his smell was one of the main reasons you chose him."

She shrugged. "It was, initially. But there are other reasons I like him." She winked at Paul. "Like his taste, for example."

Paul felt a flare of anger in his gut. He was sick of being talked about like a piece of meat. It would jeopardize his chance to get word to Liselle, but he had to say something. "May the walking complication speak on his own behalf?"

The two demons looked at him. Desdemona didn't look happy, but Father had a slight smile on his face. Neither of them said anything, so he plowed on. "Point number one, just to get it out there, I'm here involuntarily...for what that's worth. Point number two. I'd really like to know what happens to me if I

don't

get her sigil. Do I get sent back home, or do I get fed to the magma beasts, or what? And point number three..." he pointed at Father's clothes, "if I

am

staying here, can I at least get a pair of goddamn pants?"

Desdemona looked a little scared. But Father's eyes twinkled, and he leaned back towards her. "I can see why you like him," he said to her.

Her face crinkled in a smile. "Yes, he is really cute even when he's being a little stinker." The smile faded. "Although he really needs to learn when not to speak."

Father waved a hand. "It's all right, Des. He does have a point. This concerns him as well. Do you mind if I speak to him alone?"

She looked a little confused and alarmed. "No, of course not."

"Thank you. We'll be back in a bit." Father clapped Paul on the shoulder, and the human staggered under the touch. The demon lord's hand felt as dense as lead. There was a brief twisting sensation-

-and now he and Father were standing in the middle of a cluttered workshop. It was small, about the size of a two-car garage. In the center sat a large work-table which held a half-disassembled lawnmower. Paul stared at the machine in disbelief.

"Where would you use that?" he asked. "I haven't seen any grass around here."

Father grinned and moved around to the other side of the table. "I scored this beauty in one of the newly-domesticated timelines. It's got a neat little fuel-injection system that I'm still trying to figure out. Soda?"

"Sorry?"

"Do you want a soda? I'd offer you a beer but it's a little early in the morning for that."

"I...sure, yes. Thank you, sir."

The demon lord opened a small refrigerator in the far corner and took out a couple of red-labeled cans, then tossed one to Paul. He caught it easily, and was surprised to find the can ice-cold. Paul half expected the demons to drink their soda boiling-hot.

Almost reverently, the young man opened the can and heard the familiar little pop-fizz noise. The sound took him back home for a moment. He took a sip and closed his eyes in nostalgia at the taste.