Hi – this is my first story of this variety. Lemme know what you think! Everyone is WELL over 18.
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“Oh yeah…” murmured the succubus as she slobbered all over my penis, “you like that, girl? you little fuck mage?” I did not like it. I had not liked it for the past six hours, either, but that certainly hadn’t stopped the demon. Her name was “Beelzeba,” and I was only enduring her shoddy pawing because she’d promised she would give me the location of a Font once she was done – an object of immense magical power. Six hours ago it had seemed like a fair deal, but now…
“Mmm, did I fuck your brains out, sweet Veronica?” Beelzeba must have caught my vacant expression. She sat up and gave me a crooked grin, caressing my cheek lightly and leaving behind a trail of fluids on my face. That was the last straw for me; it was time to find an exit strategy. “Yes, lover…” I breathed, drawing on my skill at bluffing cultivated from dozens of mediocre sexual encounters. “I – I’m overwhelmed with pleasure. I think you’ve broken me…” Broken my will to continue, anyways. The demon sat up, pressing her breasts together as she did, pride evident on her sharp, angular face. You could have pulled her description from a textbook – red skin, ridiculous curves, horns tail and wings. A textbook that would probably be perused more by horny teenagers than by scholars.
“Broken?” The succubus gloated as she cupped one of my breasts. “I suppose so. Even a sex mage can’t keep up with a being of pure pleasure.” I had to bite my tongue at that; sex mage was a derogatory term for those like myself who focused magic through physical sensation rather than through chants or gestures (the official term was ‘sensate magic’). It didn’t have to be sexual, either – you could use pain, cold, drunkenness, anything. People’s minds always went to sex though, hence the stereotype. One which I admit my current position wasn’t doing much to dispel. “I suppose you’ll want to know about that Font, then?” the demon caught my interest for the first time that night. I simply nodded, not willing to risk my voice betraying my desire to get the hell out of here. “It’s quite an odd one. Seems the pertinent question isn’t what, but rather who.” A living Font… I’d never heard of that happening before, but one couldn’t really declare impossibilities in the magical world. “Do you have a name?” I asked eagerly. Too eagerly; the succubus recognized it as a way to toy with me. Her eyes lit up, and she let out a single word: “Beg.”
“What?” She’d caught me off guard.
“Beg for it.” The demon spread her legs, her pussy on full display, and started rubbing her nipples with both hands. Unbelievable. I tried to stay calm; after all, this was just her nature. But my dick was chafed and numb, my breasts sore, and my patience had run out completely.
“Oh come on!” I spat. “I let you fuck me for god knows how long with NO complaints despite how ROTTEN the sex was. I think I’m entitled to a gods damned name!” I was standing, towering over the succubus. Normally I didn’t like how tall I was, but I had to admit it really did wonders for intimidation.
Beelzeba gaped at me, shocked at my outburst. “Ophelia. Ophelia Brisse.” The demon’s face had fallen, and she’d shifted her arms and legs to cover herself up, clearly hurt. “I thought you were having fun.”
I sighed. Fuck. Far as I could tell, the demon was only a few decades old; quite young by the standards of her kind. She wasn’t malevolent, just enthusiastic, and in response I’d hurt her feelings. I grit my teeth; why hadn’t I just told her what I liked? Why did I just sit there and sulk all that time, stuck inside my own head?
I tried in vain to fix the damage. “No lover, I’m sorry, I just… you were good, really, I just wasn’t…” my voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.
“I’m sorry you had such a bad time.” Beelzeba sniffed, gesturing toward the portal that had brought me here. “You can leave, if you want.” Her face clearly indicated she wanted me to stay, to comfort her, and then probably to have awful make-up sex.
My guilt only made me move faster as I went for the portal. I grabbed my discarded clothes and left without saying another word, without looking back at the poor girl whose evening I had just ruined. Better if I just got out of her life. The portal spat me out back in my dingy apartment, where I walked over to my book of contacts and crossed out Beelzeba’s name. The pages were full of similarly crossed out names of mages, demons, fae, vampires… bridges burned with former hookups. I was running out of uncrossed names; that was the only reason I had dealt with the younger and comparatively weaker succubus. My phone lit up, showing a text from my former mentor Jack.
hey V, how did the succ work out?? btw im calling in my payment for that tip right away – big ritual on sat. details to come.
Great. ‘Big ritual’ from Jack meant debauched orgy with a bunch of mages, all channeling towards some bizarre end. The book, Jack, Beelzeba… it was all a bit too much for one night. Retreating to the bathroom, I started filling the tub with hot water and took a few gulps from the bottle of cheap wine under my sink in the meantime. The steam and alcohol helped me relax as I absentmindedly looked at my reflection in the mirror, where an exhausted looking woman stared back at me. Brown eyes with great big dark circles underneath them, dark brown hair a chaotic frizzy mess after a night of insane demonic sex. My eyes reluctantly looked further down, over the small breasts, even smaller penis, and narrow hips marking the beginning of my long legs. Even on my best days it was a sight I could only regard with neutrality, and the events of the night certainly did not make this one of my best days.
I took one last sip of wine before heading into the bath, leaning my head against the tiled wall and closing my eyes. What a day. I’d gone from the thrills of tracking down a new Font to… whatever the hell I felt like right now. I exhaled as my hands started absently roaming my body, pent up from Beelzeba’s failed efforts. Slipping into a gentle rhythm, one hand rolled my right nipple between my thumb and index finger while the other traced around the head of my cock. My breathing became regular and I leaned back a little further, releasing the tension in my neck and shoulders. The tempo and force of my ministrations increased as my mind drifted to Beelzeba. She was cute, not in the sexy demon way she tried to project but rather in the sense of a sweet, eager lover. I started to imagine the night I wished I’d had with her; her gently pinning my wrists to the bed, looking into my eyes with a smile on her face. She’d bite my ear before trailing down my neck with kisses, and I’d be embarrassed at the sounds coming out of my mouth…
“You like that, sweetheart?” Beelzeba teased as I whimpered. Her finger trailed down between my breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “No need to answer; I can see it on your face. The way you lose yourself to my touch is absolutely lovely.” I blushed. I hadn’t realized it, but I was biting my bottom lip and arching my head back as Beelzeba gently massaged my breasts. It was pleasurable, but the real thrill of her touch was how safe and comfortable it made me feel. I trusted her, and that was what truly fueled the warm butterflies frolicking in my tummy. Beelzeba eventually worked her way down to my penis, which she caressed with the lightest possible touches. I whined and squirmed under her, the noises coming from my mouth eventually muffled as she slipped a finger in for me to suck on eagerly. “So needy! Since when were you such a needy girl, hmm?” I moaned in response as her grip below tightened, and I started to feel an orgasm slowing coming. “I know, sweetheart, I know. You always have been. Underneath that tough attitude is an insatiable craving for warm, gentle touch. A craving I think we’ll have a lot of fun with…”
I came, the feeling pulling me back to the bathtub as I squeezed my legs together and let out little high pitched squeaks. Small motes of light flitted around the bathroom, part of an accidental magical release that often accompanied an orgasm. My limbs became dead weight as I basked in the afterglow, the sensation slowly being intruded upon by one of guilt and shame over my body in the real world and how things had gone with the real Beelzeba. Whatever. It’d all be worth it once I found the Font. Once I found Ophelia Brisse.