by M. E. Hydra
“Scream for me,” Nÿte breathed in his ear. “Scream for me and I’ll take the pain away.”
Phil wanted to, he really did, but he knew what the consequences of that weakness would be. She’d consume him, a piece at a time. He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the constant throbbing agony emanating from his chest.
His pain was getting her more aroused. Her juices dribbled down his shaft and pooled beneath his balls.
Nÿte chuckled darkly in his ear and then gave one of the clamps a savage twist. Phil felt like he’d been hit in the chest by a cattle prod on maximum voltage.
He didn’t cry out.
He blacked out instead.
Phil recovered consciousness to find Nÿte fucking him. Her head was thrown back in abandon, her wings folded behind her as she thrust up and down. Inside she was exquisitely tight and deliciously moist. Her sumptuous flesh pressed snugly all around his cock. The sudden change from throbbing agony to blissful pleasure left Phil’s mind dislocated.
“You like this don’t you,” Nÿte said, looking down at him with her deep black eyes. She looped her arms behind his neck as she rose up and down.
Fuck, yes! Phil thought. Her pussy felt like a warm sheath around him. He felt muscles contract around his shaft with teasing little squeezes. Her vagina sucked at his cock with the same dexterity as a mouth.
“I think you like it too much,” Nÿte whispered in his ear. “Pleasure is your mistress.”
She slowly twisted in his lap and the sensation of her soft inner walls sliding around his cock nearly blew his mind.
“You dally too often with Rosa and Verdé. Keep on this path and soon they will suck out all your life and consume your soul.”
“I don’t exactly have a choice,” Phil rasped.
Nÿte paused. She arched a pencil-thin black eyebrow.
“Is that what you believe?” she said, her face cryptic. “How curious.”
Her vaginal muscles began to squeeze around his cock, but this time the pressure grew and grew, becoming first uncomfortable, then painful, then agonizing.
“Pleasure and pain are only sensation,” Nÿte said. “To master pleasure you must first master pain.”
Her vaginal muscles were unbelievably powerful. In a matter of moments her pussy had changed from a sumptuously soft sheath to a hard unyielding vice. The tightest grip was around the base of his shaft, preventing his blood from escaping his erection.
Fuck. Her vagina was crushing his cock.
Phil thrashed and squirmed as the pressure became unbearable.
Nÿte stared at him, her black eyes wide and bright. Her lips were turned upwards in a broad smile.
“Oh yes,” she sighed. “I love the feeling of crushing a pathetic human’s cock inside me. I…oh…”
Her pale cheeks flushed as her body quivered with an orgasm. Phil’s cock was flooded in her juices. Her vaginal muscles tightened to iron-hard ridges biting into his vulnerable flesh.
Too much. Too much.
Phil rapped his hands against the arms of the throne. His body trembled as it was wracked with unbearable pain. A cry forced its way up out of his lungs and prepared to take flight from his mouth.
“Ngh.” Phil bit down on it.
“We’re having such a beautiful moment together. I would hate for you to ruin it by screaming,” Nÿte whispered, her voice laden with menace.
She placed a single black nail against Phil’s chest. His skin blistered and blackened where she touched him.
“Ngh.” The tendons on Phil’s neck popped out like cords as he struggled to contain the cry welling up inside him.
Nÿte leant close to whisper in his ear.
“If you scream, my pussy will suck out all your life force before you get a chance to finish.”
Her vagina grew steadily colder around Phil’s cock. He felt the coldness seep into his flesh and spread as she leached away his warmth.
No no no no!
I will not scream.
He let his breath out slowly through his nostrils.
Nÿte twisted in his lap, the hard ridges in her vagina wrenching his cock. A firecracker of pain exploded in Phil’s crotch.
I will not…
He blacked out again.
Phil opened his eyes on velvet darkness. He felt soft lips against his. He remembered what had happened to the other warlock and a cold shiver crackled through him.
He didn’t feel like the life was being sucked out of him, though. Her lips felt soft and warm. A teasing little tongue wriggled between his lips and tickled the end of his tongue. His cock was once again surrounded by the sumptuous soft sheath of her vagina. She pumped up and down with slow liquid strokes, her pussy sucking hungrily against his cock.
She finished the kiss and unfurled the black wings she’d folded around them. Her black eyes were unreadable.
“So much fear,” she said, wiping a hand across Phil’s forehead. “So delicious.” She ran a tongue up Phil’s cheek. “But now I’m thirsty for other fluids.”
Her pussy went soft around him. Really soft. Heavenly soft. Gentle sucking motions undulated up his shaft. Nÿte put her hands on the back of the chair and slowly thrust up and down. The creamy crevice of her cleavage rose and fell before him. She stared down at him and ran her tongue over her plush black lips.
In the arts of pleasure she was an expert, maybe even more than either Rosa or Verdé. She sensed exactly when he was about to come and teased out the moment, letting her flesh quiver around the head of his cock.
Phil melted in the chair. He felt his balls tighten as the orgasm rose in him. Oh fuck, he was going to…
“Still the slave,” Nÿte chuckled. “Oh so eager to give.”
She plucked off both nipple clamps in one smooth movement. Blood flooded back into the compressed tissues and sensation returned with a flare-burst of pain.
Phil was already past the point of orgasm. The fireworks of agony overlapped with the fireworks of ecstasy and his mind exploded in a vivid starburst of sensation. Muscles clenched and convulsed violently all across his body as it tried to work out if it was supposed to be enjoying or suffering this.
Phil tensed and then his hips jerked violently upwards as his balls blasted a shot of cum into her tight flesh.
Nÿte smiled as her body quivered with another orgasm. Her vaginal muscles wrapped tightly around Phil’s cock, squeezing and sucking it with soft, slow pulsations. The first orgasm hadn’t even subsided before Phil’s body was wracked by a second, and then a third.
Nÿte pulled down her bodice and leaned forward so her soft, naked breasts pressed against Phil’s throbbing nipples. The twin sensations of pain and pleasure sent Phil’s mind spinning like a Catherine wheel. Her pussy continued to milk Phil’s cock with slow pulsations, gently draining his life.
“I won’t take all of you…this time,” Nÿte said.
Her black wings extended behind her, blocking out the light. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against him in a tight embrace. Her pussy squeezed his cock and he responded with a powerful spurt of semen. Soporific weakness spread through his body.
“When we play again it’s your turn to hurt me,” she murmured in his ear.
Nÿte wrapped her wings around the chair like a black shroud. Within the intimate darkness her hot lips found his for a luxurious kiss. Her pussy continued its soft pulsations around his cock, milking ejaculation after ejaculation from Phil’s body until it became one continuous stream. She sucked orgasm after orgasm from Phil’s body until he finally passed out and slid into the welcoming darkness of Nÿte’s embrace.
“What happened?” Phil’s mother asked as she wiped away the blood from his mouth.
“Another boy hit me,” Phil answered.
“Now why would he do that?” Phil’s mother asked.
“We were playing a memory game. The Cubmaster split us into two teams. We each had a table divided into four-by-four squares. The Cubmaster put some things on each table an
Phil’s mother tsked.
“No one likes a smarty-pants show-off,” she said.
“Why not?” Phil asked. “Wasn’t I helping him?”
“People don’t like being shown they’re wrong. It makes them feel bad.” She dabbed away the last of the blood.
“Oh,” Phil said.
Phil woke up to aches all over his body. There was a wrenching pain in both of his shoulders and he realised it was because he was currently chained to a wall.
This sucks, he thought. At least he was still alive.
Several hours later he was wondering for how long.
Had they forgotten about him? Was he going to be left here until he starved to death and nothing was left but his dry bones?
His shoulders and arms really fucking hurt.
After what seemed like an eternity, Rosa and Verdé walked by. They saw him chained to the wall and doubled over in fits of giggles.
“Um, this is really rather painful,” he said.
“Oh dear, we did warn you about her,” Verdé said.
“You’re lucky she likes you,” Rosa said.
“Likes me?” Phil said.
She’d tortured him, nearly fucked him to death, and then left him chained to a wall.
“Oh yes,” Rosa smiled. “She usually breaks their arms before leaving them chained to the wall.”
109: NEGOTIATION III
Hell was surprisingly beautiful sometimes, Phil thought as he stared out of the window. The strange planetary bodies that orbited this realm were sinking down below the horizon, taking the light with them. The sky darkened from a powder-puff pink to a more sensual shade that brought to mind the secrets hidden between a woman’s thighs.
In the world of the succubi even the colour of the sky could conjure up lustful thoughts, Phil thought. Unfortunately, those lustful thoughts would probably be the death of him.
“Why so glum, little fledgling?” Rosa asked. She was standing by the door next to Verdé. “Do you want a fuck?”
“What do you want?” Phil asked.
It was a pointless question. They wanted to fuck him and suck out more of his life. That was all they ever wanted.
The worst part was Phil’s body wanted it too. His cock was already hard and erect. It twitched in eagerness at the thought of once again being sheathed in their silken pussies.
Rosa saw his arousal and stepped forward. She fondled the large globes of her breasts and licked her full red lips.
Her expression of lustful desire abruptly changed to annoyance as she was yanked back by the tail. A girl pushed her way between Rosa and Verdé and stood before Phil. It was the same girl Phil had seen outside Nÿte’s room.
Nÿte. That was a memory Phil would rather block out.
The girl’s vivid blue hair stood up in spikes. She was wearing the same cornflower blue dress he’d seen her in before. Dark blue horns curled down behind her ears. She looked coyly at Phil with eyes the colour of blood-red rubies.
“We brought you a visitor,” Verdé said. “This is Cέrμləa.”
“Seh-roo-lee-ah,” Phil repeated. It wasn’t exact, but it was as close as he could get to the alien syllables Verdé had uttered.
“She wants to play with you,” Verdé added.
Cέrμləa smiled shyly.
Play? What did they mean?
Cέrμləa was clearly a succubus, but she also looked quite young. Well, very young. Verdé had a hand on each of Cέrμləa’s shoulders and seemed to regard her like a younger sister.
Did succubi have younger sisters? Did they have childhoods?
Phil didn’t know.
Looking at their faces, Phil noticed something. Verdé’s long green hair was matched by her glittering emerald eyes. He remembered Nÿte had jet-black hair and eyes like empty black holes. And Nurse Honey had empty white eyes and blonde hair so fair it was almost white.
Rosa and Cέrμləa were different. Rosa had a short red bob, but her eyes were icy blue. Cέrμləa had vivid blue hair, but her eyes were deep red in colour. Phil looked back and forth from one face to the other.
“We swapped,” Cέrμləa said, smiling broadly. “Rosa scared me with her old eyes so I switched them with mine.”
Phil looked quizzically at Rosa.
“We don’t like to talk about it,” Rosa replied, her voice icy.
“Let’s go and play,” Cέrμləa said. She turned on the spot and danced out of the room. Her little blue devil’s tail bobbed up and down jauntily behind her.
Phil was still a little confused. He looked to Rosa and Verdé for guidance.
“Come on, fledgling,” Verdé said, pulling him off the bed. “Little Cέrμləa wants to play.”
She put an arm around his waist and escorted him out of the bedroom. Her body was a little more tense than usual and she hugged him a little tighter. When Phil looked over at her face he thought he saw glimpses of the depths she normally kept hidden.
Ahead of them the young succubus was skipping down the corridor, her tail bouncing excitedly behind her.
“What do you mean by play?” Phil asked.
“She wants to take her turn,” Verdé answered.
Phil wasn’t sure he liked the connotations of that. Cέrμləa looked awfully young. She turned back and beckoned them on with an eager smile.
“Um, she looks a bit…um…young,” Phil said.
“Of course,” Verdé smiled. “Succubi need to be able to satisfy each and every desire.”
Phil suddenly felt queasy.
Rosa burst into laughter. “A bit young,” she snorted, before laughing again. “She’s older than both Verdé and I, and maybe even older than Nÿte.”
“Cέrμləa is…complex,” Verdé explained. “She’s not as she appears.”
Phil looked at Cέrμləa. That might be, but he really wasn’t comfortable with the thought of ‘playing’ with someone who looked young enough to be a kid sister.
They followed Cέrμləa up into an area of the castle Phil hadn’t visited before. Rosa and Verdé were uncharacteristically quiet. Phil didn’t think he’d ever been in their company for this long without one of them trying to grope or fondle him.
The character of the castle changed again. Large murals full of bright primary colours and simple block shapes adorned the walls. They looked like something a child would paint. Phil saw pictures of houses with stick-figure dad, mum, brothers, sisters and pets. He saw bright green farms with white fluffy clouds to represent sheep. He saw brilliant blue seas and vivid orange beaches.
The murals showed no respect for boundaries. They leapt from the walls onto the floor and ceiling with bright swathes of colour. The rainbow splashes jumped in and out of the frames of existing paintings.
The style of the murals wasn’t consistent. Often they’d begin with simple bright splashes of colour, as if painted by an exuberant child, but then they gradually grew more and more complex until Phil was looking at sections that could have been painted by a grand master. The styles also overlapped. Phil saw a pony rendered with almost photographic quality appear in a farmyard full of cartoon animals. A simplistic stick figure was a participant in an elaborate bacchanalian orgy.
The innocence of the childlike murals was marred by occasional touches of cruelty and brutality. In the bright blue ocean a stick-figure swimmer was being chased by an oversized shark fin. In the farmyard scene a cartoon of a sheep was savaging the cartoon of a dog.
Or were his eyes playing tricks on him?
The swimmer was alone on the ocean, smiling beneath a bright yellow sun. The cartoon dog sat next to the cartoon sheep in perfect harmony.
Yeah, just his eyes playing…
The pictures changed again.
The swimmer was gone. A round circle with two crosses for eyes floated in a splash of vivid red, surrounded by severed body parts. The cartoon sheep was tearing out the cartoon entrails of the cartoon dog.
Phil’s hairs pricked up and gooseflesh rose on his arms.
In the upstairs window of the family house lurked a dark shape. Phil felt a powerful rush of fear, as if ice splinters were being driven under his skin with a hammer.
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