tagNonHumanSummoning the Incubus Ch. 02

Summoning the Incubus Ch. 02


Summoning the Incubus: Daylight

Morning broke with a thin red gash of light along the crests of the mountaintops. Owls finally dared to close their eyes, and bats cautiously folded their wings. The night horrors and prowling beasts of the forest abandoned their hunts to drag bloodied carcasses back to their lairs. In the west, a handful of lingering stars still shone.

Kasita and I sat atop her cottage roof, tense and watchful. The hood of her crimson cloak obscured her sleek black tresses while framing her ashen features. She held a whittled staff of red-stained wood in both hands, in the manner that a gladiator might wield a spear.

"I expect they will begin their march shortly," she said softly, "Have you given thought to how you wish to proceed?"

"I won't flee," I whispered, quiet, but firm, "They'll allow me to return to them as their daughter or..."

Kasita gave me a pitying look.

"They won't. You know that deep down. They will find us here, and they will torch my cottage."

I shook my head.

"They are still my family, and they have good souls. It will be hard for them, but they may find it in their hearts to forgive me. I'm sure they will consider my plea to join the convent now..." I trailed off; the notion of a life of celibacy carried a heavy sorrow with it now that it had not before. A life without trembling flesh, or shuddering gasps, or a thundering heartbeat - a life without that golden ecstasy of quivering heat rippling through every facet my being - it seemed suddenly like too much to bear.

"...Or perhaps I could return to the village as a healer. I could be so much more useful now. Our doctor means well, but truthfully, he is a butcher. Magic will mend people much better than his saws and drills."

I nodded to myself, pleased with this idea. But Kasita let out a long, agitated sigh.

"You have a lot of faith in your family Little Bride. I hope for your sake that it is not misplaced."

Kasita weaved my hand into hers and clasped it tightly. I rested my head against her shoulder and for some hours we spoke no more.

I watched the orange-yellow yolk of the sun inch its way above the horizon, casting the long lavender shadows of early morning upon the forest. The ground was sodden from the night's storm, but the warm sunshine promised a fine day. The nature did not calm me. Birds sang. My hearing was sharper than it had been, and my intuition vastly improved upon. I could hear birdsong that was miles away and sense, quietly, under the rhythm of my own thoughts, their odd little bird feelings. Urgent skittish thoughts about grubs, eggs, twigs and hawks. And then suddenly I felt someone else.

"Millie!" Releasing Kasita's hand, I leapt to my feet to give myself the best vantage of the clearing. At first, my eldest sister was nowhere to be seen, but after a few moments, Mildred tumbled out of the thick of the forest to stand in front of the little cottage. I hastily clambered down from the roof, ready to seize her in my arms in greeting; but she flinched away.

A decade older than I and heavily pregnant with what would be her eighth child, Mildred looked both furious and panic-stricken. Her usually tidy appearance had been ruffled and her faced was flushed from the exertion of the long walk in her motherly condition. She held her belly. A small twig was caught in the plaited nest of her chestnut hair. I could feel her anger and confusion pulsing from her, a haze of muddled feeling that heated the air.

"Is it true? Tell me if it's true!" She demanded, "I told them it couldn't be true! Is it true? Are you a witch!?" Two large teardrops streamed down her rosy cheeks.

"I - I'm," I stammered, shaken by her turbulent state and my submergence in it. Her feelings filled me as if they were my own.

"You are." She rasped through her tears, her mouth hanging open in horror.

"It's not how you thi-" I began to plead, but she cut me off.

"Demon whore!" she spat. "You stupid child!"

"No, please listen; you don't under-"

"They're coming to burn you. Father, the bishop, half the village."

We stared at one another, wide-eyed and silent for a long, stretching moment.

"Millie...?" I whispered, now deathly afraid.

"No." She said blackly, "My sister calls me Millie. Stay away from me, witch."

She turned her back on me and walked, calmly, slowly away. My heart breaking with every step she took. Her anger resonating deeply in the cavity of my chest.

"Millie! Mill. Don't go! Please, I need you here with me." Tears poured down my face in rivers. I watched her figure getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared entirely into the forest.

"Millie," I croaked. Our sisterly bond of a lifetime was severed in an instant; I had never imagined such a thing was possible.

Kasita's hand on my shoulder made me jump.

"You're getting too emotional," she warned, "See how dull your senses are that you didn't feel me start towards you?" I nodded, but had no energy for words. "The mob is almost here, I can sense them approaching. You need to decide now. Are we running or we fighting?"

"You don't have to stay with me, go if you think that it is best for you," I insisted. She gazed earnestly at me.

"I will not. I am no coward, Little Bride, and I will be with you, come what may."

Impossibly moved, I clutched her tightly in my arms.

"Then let us face them, together." I said.


Stern, unfriendly, but well respected, my father was a usual kind of man of his time and locale. As owner of a mill, he was comparatively wealthy and of some standing within our tiny community; but could never hope to hold such authority in a larger town. He was at the zenith of his ability, and it made him bitter.

Kasita and I stood, shoulder to shoulder, in the centre of a large pentagram that she burnt into the ground with a torrent of flame from her cherry-wood staff.

The mob approached, just as Mildred had described, with my father and the bishop leading the way. Behind them were my sisters' four husbands, each with an axe slung over his shoulder. Another half-dozen men - all but one of whom I knew - made up the rest of the group.

"I have lain with most these men," Kasita hissed, "Hypocrites."

I said nothing, but glanced fretfully about like a nervous rabbit. The men carried armfuls of fallen braches and one or two hefted the felled trunks of young rowan trees behind them. They had a pyre in mind.

The vigilantes entered the clearing, hollering with excitement as they spotted us.

"Witches! Demon Whores! Devil Sluts!"

My father shot a revolted look at the revellers and they fell silent. Hope rose in my heart. Perhaps he would defend me yet. The group stopped just short of the outer ring of our pentagram, looking a little uneasy now that they could see the occult symbol.

"Gentlemen," Kasita sneered the word, "If your intentions are not peaceful, you would all do best to turn around now and go home. Though you outnumber us many times, I think we all know that this is not a fight in your favour."

"Your powers are worthless before the Lord, Witch!" boomed the Bishop, "There can be no peace with your kind!"

Kasita arched a sceptical eyebrow and smiled mockingly.

"I left you peaceful enough last time we met "Most Reverend". You were so spent you slept like a babe."

There was gruff laughter from the group of men, deadened by my father's growl. He glanced disgustedly at the Bishop.

"Whatever the sins of others present, we are here to rid our community of your terrible blight."

My father would not meet my eye as he spoke, though the Bishop's glare was enough to singe me.

"Ought I not have a trail?" I challenged, addressing the mob at large. It was the Bishop who replied.

"The fire will be your trial. If you are innocent, your immortal soul shall ascend to Heaven. If you are a witch, of which there is no doubt, then you will receive the judgement that you deserve."

Stony faced, my father nodded. I began my appeal.

"I know that what I have done many would consider shocking, even sinful, but please understand..."

My father's face was twisted into a sour expression, but I was determined to say my piece. "I have never asked anything of you except for to be a nun, to live a life without marriage, to be of a different kind of service to my village than my sisters. But that request was not listened to, that freedom not granted, you left me without choice."

His head was shaking very slightly from side to side as colour flushed his weathered face. He started his speech quietly, almost calmly, but with every word he grew louder and fiercer.

"Do you mean to leave the blame for your actions at my door? I suppose you'd say that it was I who dragged you into this witchy wood and threw you to the demons! The nunnery is the place of the woman with genuine spiritual gifts and perhaps those who cannot be married; but not of those too ungrateful to marry!"

I was so horrified by this speech that my next words were issued in an awful harrowing screech.

"What would there have been to be grateful for? Throwing a girl to a man is no different than throwing her to a demon!"

"There is no other way." His last words came stilted, but deliberate. "This must be done. But I cannot watch." He turned away from the twisted scene before him.

It was in this moment that I lost my nerve. I flew into a white-hot rage. My body burst with bright gold flames. Every inch of my skin glowed with the radiant horror of staring straight into the sun. I hurt all over, as if my skin was blistering and my bones burning to charcoal. The heat was so punishing it was like Death's own kiss; but the fire did not maim my body. The flames rose from my screaming skin in glorious ripples, surrounding my visage like a lion's mane or an angel's halo.

"You will stand, and you will watch." I commanded, "You will watch me burn and you will know my fate first hand. My blood is your blood and you will watch it boil. You heard my cries as I entered this world and you will hear them as I leave it."

My father flinched, but he did not turn back to look at me, he continued to walk away.

The other men stood still as stones, their faces frozen in contortions of shock and fear, their hands clutching anxiously at their weapons and branches.

"If you will not watch," I heard myself scream, my flattened palm held aloft, "May you always be blind!" Magic surged through my arm, strong and terrible, like an invisible vine it grew from my hand and pushed its way determinedly through the trees and into my father's skull. I felt his fear. That's all that was there. No regret or love for me, just fear. I snatched his sight from him with disgusting ease. Squeezing the vessels and tissues of his eyeballs until his sockets were filled with nothing but pungent red gore.

Revenge was so effortless that I found myself laughing as I reached out magically for Mildred's husband. I didn't concern myself with his thoughts. I just did what needed to be done, crushing the fists that had so often beaten my sister, into useless mangled shapes. He screamed with pain, but it only spurred me on.

Now I turned to my next victim, ready to inflict whatever harm was most fitting.

"Enough of this," Kasita spat, pointing her staff at the Bishop, but using all her supernatural mite to constrain me, "Leave. Now. Before anymore harm is done." Needing no further instruction, the band of men fled.

Curled into a ball on the ground, my manic laughter stumbled into sobs. This was what it was to be a witch.


Many moon cycles passed and I soon settled into the routine of my new life of liberated exile in depths of the forest. Each morning I rose with the first rays of sunlight that crept nervously over the dark brow of the mountainous horizon. I threw my white hooded cloak around my naked shoulders and collected a wicker basket on the crook of my elbow, before heading out barefoot to my favourite clearing.

It was the very early spring, the ground was carpeted with crystal frost and partially opened snowdrops bordered the narrow pathways. The tiny Eden was a clear, cool pool, crusted with ice, veiled with a thin, low-hanging mist and surrounded by tall ferns and bracken. I gulped the cold dry air, and it clung to the insides of my lungs before I exhaled, watching it leave my lips in fragile ghosts of fog. Under the fabric of my cloak my body trembled with the fresh thrill of the cold, goosebumps patterned my thighs and my nipples stood out stiff and expectant.

Confident in my solitude, I discarded my cloak, leaving it to hang from a nearby branch. Then I stepped purposefully out onto the glazed pond, the freezing ice momentarily sticking and burning the soles of my feet. I channelled my magical energies, from somewhere in the pit of my stomach, to spark through my nerves, through my hips, thighs, calves and ankles, down to the bottoms of my feet and into the ice. It melted away into the warming pool, so that I stood, relatively firmly, on the surface of the water.

I had not anticipated the sheer physicality of having magic, I could feel it palpitating and riving in my body at every moment, like having a second heartbeat.

Holding my arms out slightly to my sides, palms facing upwards, I closed my eyes softly and felt the weak morning sunrise cast its yellow light across my nude form. I thought of the demon Prince's eyes on my body, their hunger waiting to be satisfied by the pleasures of my flesh. My arousal bloomed. The bud between my legs begged for attention. I bit my lower lip and let myself sink a little way into the warm water, so that my feet were submerged, but I still floated.

Patience, I'd learnt, was everything. I splashed my feet gently in the water, so that my inner thighs rubbed one another and my clit was pinched tightly between my damp lips. Then I let my hands wander over my breasts, weighing them in my palms, squeezing them gently, trailing my fingertips over their chilled, sensitive, flesh. The water grew hotter, vapour rising from the surface into the crisp air. I sunk deeper, the balmy water lapping at my knees.

I slid twinned fingers into the wet of my mouth, and coated them with moisture. Sucking at them, remembering the great mite of the Prince's member, for which my fingers were a pitiful substitute.

Though everything else above my tickled knees was dry, the folds of my flower were flushed with wet cream. I pinched and pulled at the tender points of my nipples, and allowed myself the vanity of hearing my own elated gasps of sexual gratitude. I thought of how the demon had luxuriated in me and I searched out that pleasure for myself. Whenever I was alone, I found myself thinking of him.

I pressed my two fingers into the damp folds that concealed my wakeful clit. I worked my fingertips against it, becoming ever more enraptured with the thrill of my own body, until I could bear the chill against my skin no longer, and I sank blissfully into the hot water, submerging even my head.

Beneath the surface my skin flushed with delight. The heat was a heavenly comfort after the cold of the air. For a moment I held my breath. My finger circled my clit softly; the hot water seeped inside me, filling my cunny, but leaving me unsatisfied. My eyes were closed as I focused on the intricate work of building my excitement. I rose for air.

When I lifted my head and shoulders from the water, I was full of vitality. The cold air on my glowing cheeks struck me wide-awake. I slid my paired fingers into the hot channel of my cunt, pushing out the water with each plunge. I licked my dry lips as I started to pant, and laid my head back against the bank of the pool.

My magic shuddered involuntarily in my fingertips, sending humming energy through my aching clit. With my other hand I grasped blindly at the water, muttering the words of an elemental spell. My palm chilled. Then I lifted a solid cylinder of ice from the water. Its edges were wet, already dripping as it began to melt. I popped one end of the thick icicle into my mouth, working and shaping it with my tongue, pushing it to the back of my throat. Pleased with my toil, I slid the ice cock out from between my lips. Quaking with want, I rubbed the ice across my clit and purred with the contrast of feeling. Then pushed it, slow and deliberate, cold and hard, deep into my cunt. I let out a lusty moan as it stretched me open.

As always, I tried to pace myself, but I soon gave in to the demands of my flesh. I fucked myself with abandon. One hand massaging my clit, the other pounding the plaything in and out of my chamber with all the ferocity I could muster. I ground my hips against it, seeking that begging spot. I gasped and moaned and squealed. The ice grew smaller in my hand, but my body begged for more. I tried to cast the freezing spell again, but found I was no longer in possession of my language. The ice had melted to nothing, and it was a torrent of heated water with which I now fucked myself. The water surged in and out as fearsome as a tidal wave. Miniature whirlpools sucked at my pink nipples and throbbing clit. To feel so much stimulation was overwhelming.

I gave myself to the water. All at once my thoughts fell away. I was kissing the cosmos, my body shuddering and flexing, my mind transported. Mouth open. Eyes closed. Sheath clenching. Each shimmering second washing over me in a wave of heat. Through my clit to my very fingertips. I savoured the sublime magic of it for as long as I could. My skin trembled with the ecstasy and exertion of it... until it slipped away.

I swam languidly to the opposite edge of the pool. It was a beautiful life.


Home in the forest was with the woman to whom I felt I owed everything. Kasita was my teacher, and my family, my lover and my world. You might ask why it was not of her I thought when I slipped out to bathe alone? Such questions troubled me, and I did my level best not to dwell upon them.

"You are so much changed," Kas smiled affectionately as me, tucking a strand of my straw-coloured hair behind my ear, "I never dreamt that first day that you'd become so... "

"So what exactly?" I laughed, drawing her close into my embrace.

"Strong." She said approvingly, grinning and shaking her head.

She was right. I was strong. My encounter with the Prince of Azure had transformed me utterly. My new senses seemed almost too numerous to count, and I often didn't know I was using them until occasion required me to articulate them. I knew at all times, night or day, rain or shine, inside or out, what the phase of the moon was and the exact appearance of the map of the constellations in the sky. (Before, I could not have even pointed out The Great Bear.) I knew the tides, their ebb and flow, the songs of whales and what they meant, if water was safe to drink by the smell of it. But at this moment in my young life - I had never laid eyes upon the ocean. I could manipulate fire with my breath, rousing a tiny ember to bonfire in an instant. I knew which plants were poisonous (though, I still needed Kasita to tell me their names and how to harvest them) and which song belonged to which bird. Even at a distance, I could feel the little frantic heart beat in each sparrow and each crow; and I could stop them with a cruel thought and watch them fall from the trees. This was how we ate.

I was physically strong too, easily able lift barrels of water, or fell a tree. Or most pleasingly, to throw Kasita over my shoulder and haul her, squealing in mock indignation, to our shared bed. For while in the daylight hours she taught me literacy, ritual and herb-lore; by nightfall she taught me how to make love.

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