The Curse of the Succubus

...into the darkness of an unlit basement.

Genevieve felt the weight of the woman on top, her breath shallow and rapid. She felt soft, naked flesh against her own. Apart from the gentle rise and fall of two large, pillow-soft breasts that almost covered Genevieve's face, there was no other movement from the figure on top of her.

Cautiously, the scientist rolled out from underneath Mila. Suddenly, the automatic lights flickered on. Instead of the pale skinned, amazon physique of the deadly demoness, Genevieve saw a young blond woman. Though far less exaggerated than the outlandish proportions of the demoness, the blond still possessed an erotic hourglass figure.

A soft moan came from the girl. She rolled over, breathing rapidly, eyes fluttering and hands roaming down her skin. In spite of the cold basement, the girl radiated heat, her lightly tanned skin shining with a thin layer of perspiration. With increasing desperation she tweaked an engorged nipple and played with her clit.

Genevieve blinked in astonishment. Where had Mila gone? Where had the girl come from? Had there been an error with the teleportation? They were both where they were meant to be, and naked as expected.

Her ancestor, the legendary sleuth, would have applied cold logic and rational thought to solve the puzzle. But then, Fiennes didn't have a blond sex kitten suddenly reach up with questing hands and a hot tongue.

Jordon, now free of her possession by Mila, was still reeling from the sexual overload built up by her body's former owner. She eagerly sighted Genevieve, who stood naked and bewildered in the empty basement, and lured her down to the smooth, cold floor.

Any resistance or fear of the demoness' return faded from Genevieve as a pointed tongue deftly split her soft, fuzzy peach and riffed against the bud of her clitoris. She sighed and collapsed into Jordan until limbs and tongues became entangled into a knot that wouldn't come undone for several hours.

Chapter Four: Vicky

The librarian bucked her hips. The pace looked savage, reckless almost, as she rode up and down with blurring speed onto the sore cock of her partner. Her hands dug nails deep into his muscled chest, drawing out tiny beads of blood. Her recently enhanced tits would have slapped violently against her face at this speed if it wasn't for the restraining properties of the ribbon corset given to her by her mistress.

Beneath her was a university student Vicky had seduced and lured into the deserted library with promises of wanton sex. Promises she had delivered all too well. The encounter with Mila had left Vicky feeling drained and hungry. The young student had been all too keen and shot his load disappointingly early into Vicky's quivering snatch. Oddly, she had felt a euphoric rush as his cum pumped into her, and could almost sense it being absorbed into her body. Not a single drop leaked from her tight pussy afterwards.

The student grimaced at the ferocity of the pace. His cock throbbed; it felt engorged way past its regular size and felt like it was going to explode. Only the intense pressures of the librarian's vice-like cunt seemed to be keeping it together. It had long gone past pleasure and well into the domain of pain for the lad.

'Let me cum,' he begged.

Vicky grinned wickedly. 'No. You're being punished. You need to learn better control.'

The student made a last ditch effort to save himself. He reached up to throw his assailant off. Vicky smiled pitifully; though she was now ramming her hips down with the speed of a hummingbird, she was in complete control. She squeezed her vaginal muscles tighter around the base of the young man's shaft. He yelped. Vicky took his hands and placed them on her breasts, guaranteeing his weak-willed compliance.

Vicky had plans on drawing this out for as long as possible, at least until she couldn't stand her own hunger, when sudden relief came for the student. A piercing scream cut through Vicky, bringing with it waves of dread and terror. A brief visual flash burned itself on her vision, of a laboratory, and her mistress battling the Great Enemy, being lured into a trap and then... nothingness. The vision ended but she still sensed her mistresses' voice, whispering to her from the laboratory.

When the psychic cry had hit her she had lost control over the student's cock. It had burst like a water main, sending gallons of white, sticky fluid deep into Vicky's womb. The librarian rode it out, drawing some of the lifeforce from the student.

With her newfound vigour, Vicky quickly dressed and headed for the physics department. Even if she didn't already know the way she would have been pulled toward the lab; she could no less ignore the irresistible Call of her mistress that a compass could point anywhere but magnetic north.

Carefully, she snuck into the laboratory. There was no sign of her mistress or the Great Enemy, Genevieve Jefferson. The Call was louder now and came from the other side of the room, from the trap she had seen in her vision.

A bundle of clothes lay on the raised platform. The majority was a pile of a regular clothes -- jeans, a shirt, ladies underwear and a lab coat. What instantly caught Vicky's eye was the unmistakable red corset of her mistress. She tentatively reached out for it. Her fingertips brushed the soft silk material and a surge of raw power flooded her mind. The thoughts and knowledge of her Mistress filled her, dominating her completely.

Trancelike, Vicky retrieved the corset and carried it back to the library. She descended the depths of the archives until she hit an old basement storeroom deep among the old library's foundations. Sweet whispers from the corset guided her actions. Vicky seemed to watch herself as a passenger in her body as her hands followed the instructions given by Mila, slowly drawing three arcane circles on the floor of the storeroom. A circle of warning... a circle of protection... and a circle of healing... whispered the dark voice trapped within the magical confines of the corset.

Now sit in the centre... commanded Mila ...and connect yourself with the circle of healing.

The librarian knelt on the bare stone floor. Her hands moved of their own accord, peeling away all of her clothes with the exception of the ribbon which laced through her irremovable piercings. The clothes were thrown outside the circle and both hands roved down her cool, sensitive skin, eliciting tiny purrs of ecstasy. Being dispossessed within her own body heightened the sensations caused by her hands -- it was as if they someone else's.

They are someone else's... the voice responded in her mind... they are mine, and soon your body will belong to me entirely.

The Vicky who had existed before the arrival of Mila struggled from somewhere deep within her own consciousness. A mocking laughter reverberated around the inside of her head. Treacherous hands obeyed the demon's orders and put on the corset. It morphed and flowed around the supernaturally endowed contours of Vicky's body, lacing into place with unnatural ease.

It had been less than a day since Mila was released from the corset and had possessed Jordan. That in itself had been costly, and the subsequent battle had left Mila crucially weakened. She no longer had enough power to take full control of Vicky; not yet.

Vicky's hands quested to her crotch. Both hands worked to full effect, rubbing her clit and fingering deep into her pussy, causing rivulets of hot juice to spill on to the floor. The growing puddle struck one of the chalk lines and the entire inner circle lit up with an eldritch glow. With the build-up of the impending orgasm, Vicky could sense a huge pressure on her very consciousness, gradually pushing against her. Darkness began to fill her mind. At the very last, as her orgasm hit the peak, she saw one last flash before nothingness consumed her -- the face of Mila.

Epilogue: Three months later

Jordan slammed the café door shut and locked it with so much angry force the key almost snapped. Her boss was still sneaking off to fuck Vanessa, and Jordan was still left to lock up. The demoness' enhancements had soon faded, leaving Jordan looking exactly as she had done before. The events of that night were a vague memory for her, more like a dimly remembered nightmare. That same night a librarian had gone missing and a male student had been found in a coma; Jordan just hoped she had nothing to do with it.

This time, instead of searching for new clothes, Jordan decided to go straight home. A willowy figure stood outside her flat, wearing a long, suede overcoat. Even outside the lab, Dr Genevieve Jefferson carried herself like a scientist.

'Hi,' Jordan greeted her. She blushed slightly. They had seen each other once since the night, and that had been in the presence of the police to give a follow up statement.

Thoughts of their carnal night of lovemaking bubbled up to the surface of her mind. Genevieve nodded by way of greeting and betrayed no emotion.

'Erm... would you like to come in?' Jordan entered her flat and Genevieve followed. 'Can I get you a drink, Dr Jefferson?'

'Call me Genevieve, please.'

'Wouldn't Jenny be less formal?' Jordan teased lightly.

Genevieve shrugged and walked around the flat, inspecting and evaluating the contents of the small studio apartment. It was in a state of mess as usual; Jordan rarely had guests. Jordan poked around the kitchen for something to offer her guest. 'So how's er... the teleporter?'

'I handed in all my research notes. We solved the inorganic/organic matter disparity but we couldn't maximise the range beyond 1.1 miles. My assistant is taking over the project -- he wants to work to a principle of local matter disassembly and remote reassembly which he believes won't be limited by range. I had ethical concerns with the project.'

'Because of the potential destruction of the soul and/or mind that might happen?'

Genevieve stopped pacing the room and fixed the shop assistant with an impressed look. Jordan smiled and offered her guest a cup of tea. 'Yes,' she answered. 'It had never bothered me before; I never believed in the soul. I am -- or perhaps was -- a physicalist, confident that the perfect recreation of the body on the other end would not pose a problem, but after that night.... Now I wonder what else there is... I can't focus on physics anymore...'

'"Tis magic, magic, that hath ravish'd me," Jordan quoted quietly.

Genevieve looked quizzically.

'Marlowe's Faustus,' Jordan answered.

To one corner of a coffee table stood a small pile of antique trinkets. Genevieve homed in on these and picked one up. 'These don't quite seem to fit in with the rest of the room.'

Jordan sat down and hugged her own hot cup of tea. 'The demon possession left some small mark. I seem drawn to certain objects, sometimes people and places.'

'What kind of people, places and objects?'

'Magic ones,' Jordan replied, quickly followed by, 'supposedly. They all came from an antique shop that claims to sell artefacts that have a history in the magic and occult.'

Genevieve put the trinket down. 'I'm going to start a new research project. This world of magic needs to be put under the microscope. I could do with an assistant.'

'No,' said Jordan. She stood up and drew herself close to Genevieve. 'Not an assistant. An equal research partner. I know you're a brilliant physicist but I'm not just some dumb shop bimbo.'

'Agreed. Let's begin with this magic shop.'

Jordan laughed, 'It's late. They're closed. How about we start tomorrow? And in the meantime, you can buy me a drink.'

Genevieve and Jordan left the flat for a nearby bar. An observer, hidden in the darkness, might have noticed subtle hints in their body language that displayed the interest they showed in each other that went beyond the professional. That hidden observer might even have smiled wickedly, pearl white teeth and blood red lips briefly flashing before fading back into the night.