Succubus Summoning 213

Story Info
It's Phil's turn for the test. Will he survive the succubi?
  • August 2016 monthly contest
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Part 27 of the 27 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 01/02/2008
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Phil had always hated exams. It didn't seem to matter how much revision or prep he did, or how well he knew the subject. He'd sit down, stare at the question sheet and then his mind would go blank, or worse, a million different facts would start careering around inside his head like drunken dodgem cars. And that was for normal non-daemon-world exams. Here, at Wargsnouts, if you failed a test there was a chance of dying or worse.

Phil didn't even know what the test was on. The Scrote had neglected to inform his students. Phil shuffled through his notes. Hellscape Topology... Rites and Rituals... Extra-Dimensional Daemonology... anything? It was impossible.

Phil was surprised when Darvill breezed up to him and spoke. The other student had plenty of cause not to be friendly with him, when you considered it was his succubi that were responsible for killing Darvill's friends. Sort of.

"I wish I knew what this test was about," Phil said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."

Darvill didn't seem to be bothered about it. Or the upcoming exam. Darvill was the sort that didn't seem to get fazed by anything.

"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."

That was fine and all that, Phil thought. He shuffled miserably through his notes.

"I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it," he said.

"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."

Phil looked at the members of staff Darvill pointed to and didn't understand. They were a mismatched bunch. Cartifax Brion Jacks could pass for a P.E. teacher. High Magus R. L. Conley looked as though he'd just stepped out of an old horror movie. There was no pattern, no connection Phil could see.

Was this something Phil was supposed to know? Some lesson he'd missed?

Even Verdé seemed amused by his bafflement.

"It's not his strongest suit," she responded to a question Darvill asked her.

Everyone seemed to know more than Phil.

One of The Scrote's succubi, resplendent like a star showgirl, opened the door and looked around the room. For one heart-stopping moment Phil thought it was his turn, but then the succubus called out Darvill's name instead.

That gave Phil another half hour to shuffle through his notes in a last-ditch effort to cram for a test he didn't have the slightest clue about. He wondered if it might have been better if the succubus had called out his name instead, if only to get this damn exam over and done with. And now he'd mixed his notes up. They were an incoherent jumble. He didn't think this extra half hour or so was going to change anything.

He lifted his head and turned to Verdé. "Hey wait. Darvill spoke to you directly."

When Phil had first met Darvill, the other student had ridiculed the notion of talking to other warlock's daemons.

"Yes," Verdé said. "It's been quite pleasing to observe his personal growth. There's a lot of promise there. I think he'll develop into a fine warlock."

"You sound like you'd rather have been summoned by him instead of me," Phil said.

Verdé laughed. "Oh no. We're perfectly happy with the master we have."

She rested her head on Phil's shoulder and his nose was filled with the scent of fresh meadow flowers. His cock stirred in his pants.

Great. As if it wasn't difficult enough to concentrate already.

Phil's last-minute cramming was going so badly he was even glad of the interruption when another fellow student approached him. It was Adriana Mayall, but Phil had to do a double take as she'd changed so much since the last time he'd seen her. The skinny mop with a pale face hidden behind scraggly curtains of blonde hair was gone. Instead Phil found himself looking at a pretty young woman dressed very neatly in a business suit as if she was about to take an interview in the city. Even her posture was different. Phil hadn't realised it before, but she was taller than him when she stood up straight. There was an easier smile on her lips and she actually looked at Phil while talking to him rather than staring at the floor.

Her imp, Mr Buggeritall, was still present. He sat on her shoulder and puffed away on a foul-smelling stogie. He was different from before in that he was no longer naked. Like Adriana he was dressed in a suit right down to a miniature tie. Okay, not everything was different. He still leered at Verdé like a dirty old lecherous uncle.

"You look different," Phil said.

Adriana shrugged. "They told me there was no way to get rid of him, so we've come to an arrangement."

"She stops being a whiny little bitch feeling sorry for herself all the time and I stop embarrassing her in public," Mr Buggeritall said.

Adriana gave a little roll of her eyes that indicated she was not that far removed from the awkward girl she'd been before, despite her drastic change in appearance.

"Don't be like that, toots," the imp said. "It was for your benefit. I did it to toughen you up."

Adriana gave Phil a goofy little smile. "It is better than before."

The imp stood up and puffed out his chest. "I'm her personal trainer now."

Adriana suppressed a giggle. She looked down at Phil's notes.

"Revising for Magus Stine's test?" she asked.

"Yes," Phil replied. "Have you already taken it?"

Adriana nodded.

"What's it on?" Phil asked.

"It's odd," Adriana said. "Magus Stine wasn't present for the test, nor were any of the staff. It was just his succubi, three of them. They asked me some fairly straightforward questions about my background and Mr Buggeritall. I thought they were trying to put me at ease before the test began, then they told me it was over and I was fine."

She shrugged.

"Maybe after all the recent deaths, accidents and students going missing, they're taking some extra precautions to try and keep us safe."

Mr Buggeritall suddenly moved from Adriana's right shoulder to her left.

"Oi, what are you up to, Greenie?" he asked Verdé. His prominent lower jaw jutted out like a bulldog's.

"I thought I saw a little bit of fluff on her arm," she said, all innocence as she withdrew her hand.

Mr Buggeritall eyeballed her.

A spark of mischief lit up Verdé's green eyes. "You can watch," she said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the show."

Mr Buggeritall considered it...

...but not for very long.

He jammed a thumb against his chest. "The only one that gets to mess with toots is me," he said. "We're going to go far together."

Adriana gave an apologetic smile for her imp's antics, but there was none of the desperation Phil had seen before. It was as she'd said—she'd accepted it and come to an accommodation with the noisome imp's presence.

"You know it has to happen at some point," Verdé said.

"It will... when she's ready," Mr Buggeritall said with a determination that belied his tiny uncouth form.

The door to the test room opened and Phil's name was called out.

"I wouldn't worry," Adriana called after him. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Another one with promise," Verdé said as she and Phil walked to the test room. "Although she still has a long path to walk."

Phil was more concerned about his path coming to an end right here. He was looking at the succubus standing next to the open door and feeling anything but fine. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach and random facts and pieces of information swirled through his head in a great impenetrable swarm.

Phil really really hated tests.

He entered the room and saw it was as Adriana had described—the only people in the room were three of The Scrote's succubi. With a sinking feeling Phil recognised the one sitting in the chair opposite him. She was the one who'd made him ejaculate into her hand on the very first day he'd gone to one of Stine's fast-track lectures. She also recognised Phil and smiled as though he was a piece of livestock she'd already bought and owned.

"Ah, the student who summoned a pair of inferior lust daemons. Phil Rowling, isn't it?" she said.

Phil nodded. "Um, how should I address you, Miss...?" he asked.

"Miss?" The succubus laughed. "We're not decrepit husks. I am Astrapia, this is Seleucida and that is Paradisea. We are here to see if you are fit to call yourself master of daemons."

She gestured to an empty chair opposite her.

"Sit down and we'll begin."

Phil looked down at the chair. He repositioned it and sat down.

That seemed easy enough, he thought.

Then the succubi started to take their clothes off. Admittedly, they hadn't been wearing much to begin with—little more than the skimpy black costumes of showgirl dancers—but there was a big difference between not much and nothing at all. Phil's eyes boggled and his Adam's apple worked furiously as the sex daemons peeled off their bodices to expose the bulging pink hemispheres of their breasts. Was there a succubus that didn't have a body gorgeous enough to turn a glamour model green with envy?

The succubus that had shown Phil in, Paradisea, saw his discomfort and paused. "Surely as a master of succubi you must be used to this by now."

"Yes, what a splendid idea," Verdé said as she removed her diaphanous green robes and hung them over the back of Phil's chair.

Phil was once again surrounded by gorgeous naked woman. And as usual he wished he could enjoy it without being terrified for his life and soul.

"Why don't you take off your robe as well?" Seleucida asked.

"We're already naked," Paradisea said. "You'll feel more comfortable if you're naked as well."

"If you're worried about your size, you shouldn't be," Seleucida said.

"We don't care how big or how small they are," Paradisea said.

"We suck them all," Seleucida said.

"Fuck them all," Paradisea bent closer to whisper in Phil's ear.

And now Phil had a single, hard, reason to keep his robes on.

"As delightful as this all is, it is quite unnecessary," Verdé said.

Astrapia fluttered a fan of fluffy pink feathers and gave Verdé a glare that detracted from her otherwise seductive appearance.

"My master has already passed the first trial..." Verdé continued.

He had? Phil thought.

"...and you are of the same dominion, so..."

They might have been from the same dominion, but the other succubi did not seem to like Verdé being there at all and showed their disapproval with stony glares.

"I'm not saying it's a total waste," Verdé changed tack. "Even if he might not look keen now, I'm sure my master would love to experience some of the famed sensual skills of the incomparable bedmistresses of the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures."

"Which house do you belong to?" Astrapia asked Verdé. "I know you're not from the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures. The Garden of Exquisite Tortures? No, you're far too vanilla for them. The Pagoda of the Euphoric Lotus? No, I don't see it. I don't think you're from one of the minor houses either."

Verdé gave a disarming laugh. "I know the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures is built upon tenets of order and discipline, but those tenets are not shared by the rest of the Dominion of Lust. I have no house. I have no need of a house."

"You see your mistake," Astrapia said to Phil. "You've allowed yourself to be seduced by a pair of low-class lust daemons wanting to use you as a cheap ticket to this Earth. A warlock of greater distinction and class would have chosen more wisely than a pair of no-house tramps."

"Now you're being rude," Verdé said. "Not that I mind. Nasty talk gets me so wet."

She paused. Her nostrils dilated and she frowned.

"Has a soul been spilled here recently?"

"Seleucida, Paradisea, quieten this impudent slut."

"So it's going to be like that," Verdé said without the slightest hint of fear or concern.

The two succubi converged on her. They did not fight, at least not in any way Phil recognised as fighting. If anything it resembled more a sizzling-hot three-way lesbian orgy. Phil supposed it made sense for succubus fights to be about sex as well. He found it hard to follow. At first there was a Sapphic embrace as Verdé and Seleucida squashed their tits together and rubbed their nipples against each other. Their lips met in wet sloppy kisses and their hands roamed all over each other's curves while they let out sighs of pleasure.

Paradisea joined in. She pressed her breasts up against Verdé's back and reached around to grab Verdé's tits. The other succubus's eyelids fluttered and her cheeks reddened as Paradisea's fingers clamped Verdé's nipples and tugged them.

Verdé had no intention of letting the other succubi do all the work. Her hands lit up with a soft green glow. She brought her left hand down between Seleucida's legs and the other succubus gasped in pleasure as Verdé inserted first one and then two fingers between the hairless folds of Seleucida's pussy. All three went to the floor in a tangle of heaving bosoms, groping hands, lapping tongues and lewd sighs.

"Enjoying the show?" Astrapia said to Phil as she languidly fluttered her fan of fluffy pink feathers. She cocked her head. "Oh, are you feeling left out. Don't worry, I'll show you how good it feels to fuck a succubus of real class."

She uncrossed her legs and her hairless sex winked at Phil, revealing the moist pink interior. Phil's gaze was drawn to it and held. The succubus wrapped her sexual aura around him like a velvet-gloved fist and squeezed.

It took most of Phil's willpower to tear his gaze away. He looked over to the writhing pile of nubile flesh on the floor to his left. It was hard to see who had the upper hand. Verdé maybe. She was on top of Seleucida and her fist was buried up to the wrist in the other woman's sex.

"Is that all you've got?" Seleucida said coldly.

Or maybe not.

Paradisea struck. Her tail plunged into Verdé's ass like a lance and the green-haired succubus threw her head back and let out a shocked gasp that was more pleasure than pain. Seleucida slithered off Verdé's hand and turned. The end of her tail puffed up and she embedded it in Verdé's vagina. Verdé shuddered and let out a cry. Glistening juices squirted out of her pussy as Seleucida's tail probed deeper.

If it had been a fight it was now over. Verdé lay unresisting between the two succubi and gave out little panting sighs of bliss as the other succubi's tails throbbed and swelled in her ass and vagina. This wasn't a sex act, Phil realised.

"You're hurting her," he said.

This was feeding. The knowledge of it changed what Phil was seeing, made it loathsome, like watching giant leeches suck the life fluids out of hapless prey. As he watched, little bulges ran up the succubi's tails. Verdé's fluids... life?

"Concern for your little slut daemon, how weak," Astrapia said. "To let a little tramp like this wrap you around her finger. You're no warlock at all."

They were feeding off her, draining her. He had to stop this.

Phil went to stand up. Astrapia laughed and tapped the tip of her tail on the floor. White light erupted around Phil as the magic circle surrounding his chair activated. He was slammed back down as if the force of gravity had increased ten-fold around him.

Shit, he'd missed that one.

"Anyway, there's no need to fear for your little slut," Astrapia said.

"I'm not going to suck out all her vitality," Seleucida said. She sucked on her finger with sumptuous lips. "Just enough to leave her looking like a wizened old crone."

"It won't be permanent," Astrapia said. "She'll regain her former beauty in, oh, a century or so. We don't kill our own. Humans, however..."

Swishing her fan back and forth, Astrapia stood up and approached Phil's chair.

"Run," Verdé said. "This is not a test. They're not following the rules. They killed the other one."

"Darvill?" Phil said, shocked.

"He had potential. Potential to one day develop into a threat for our master. So we decided to eliminate him now, before he achieved enough power to become troublesome," Astrapia said.

Phil couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew Wargsnouts was crazy, but crazy enough to let the teachers murder their own pupils with daemons...? That was beyond fucked up.

"I'm no threat," he protested.

"I know you're not. You're a worm," Astrapia said. She tickled the tip of Phil's nose with her perfume-scented fan. "But the Palace of Infernal and Iniquitous Pleasures is the representative of the Dominion of Lust on this Earth. We won't brook any interference from low-class, no-house little slut daemons."

"Stop talking and run." Verdé pushed out the strained words in between helpless gasps and sighs. "Go get Rosa or Nÿte."

Astrapia turned to her and laughed. "The impudence. Nÿte? Rosa? What lies have you been feeding this poor worm?" She turned back to Phil. "Let me guess. Did she claim to be the Eréš Nūkric?"

"Run, Phil," Verdé sighed. She shuddered as another powerful climax overtook her.

Astrapia pulled aside Phil's robes. She swept her fluffy fan across his nipples.

"He doesn't want to run. He wants to stick his big fat cock in my luscious wet cunt and fill me with his hot, gushing spunk. Don't you, worm."

What Phil wanted to do was think.

He knew he couldn't run because of the circle binding him. He also knew he couldn't use the emergency dismissal incantation on them either. They were The Scrote's daemons. Only he had the authority to send them back to their plane.

However, there was something else Phil could do. While Astrapia had been taunting Verdé and teasing him he'd been sending out mental feelers.

Yes, he could sense it. It was much weaker here, weak enough that Phil would have to put a lot into the summons, but he thought he could still reach it.

Astrapia pushed his legs together and straddled him. Her pussy gaped hungrily. She looked at him like a cat with a mouse as she ran her feathered fan over his exposed skin.

He also had another advantage.

He reached up and placed his hands on her tits.

"Yes, you can touch them." Astrapia's voice oozed exultant triumph.

They thought his magic was bound along with his body. It wasn't.

"Flambas-Ejaculax!"

Torrents of flame erupted from Phil's hands and flung the succubus backwards. He smelt the acrid tang of her burnt flesh. Her body was still smoking as she hit the floor on the other side of the room.

He'd spotted and recognised the magic-nullification circle before he'd sat down. It had been easy enough to reposition the chair to break the circle. So easy he'd assumed it was the first part of the test. Unfortunately, he hadn't spotted that the circle was actually part of a complex composite of two circles overlaid over each other—one to nullify magic, the other to bind humans.

Or should that be fortunately. Astrapia would have noticed something was wrong the moment the circle failed to activate. Realising he was unbound, she would have been forced to take him more seriously. In a magic duel between him and an aware and unsurprised succubus Phil knew there would only ever be one winner.

He wondered if that was what had happened to Darvill.

It was ironic, Phil thought. His ineptitude had given him a chance to survive this.

Astrapia stirred on the floor.

Phil knew he hadn't killed her. Daemons regenerated, even from fire.

Blackened patches of burnt skin sloughed off Astrapia to reveal healthy pink flesh underneath.

Phil cast his mind back to Cέrμləa's lesson on magic circles and plucked forth a dispelling incantation. He knew they weren't effective when used inside the circle, but he was hoping he'd already weakened the circle by breaking part of it.

"Mulucric exnida Restrac Homnus."

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