The Education of Lilah

As 'chapter one' of this chronicle of mine indicated, I was in college when I first received my pet, Lilah, as an early birthday gift. Her wiles, charms and skill in all things erotic at first made it seem that she was the perfect gift for me, but I found out soon enough that things are never that simple when your mother is one of the top ranking demons in Hell.

As I've mentioned before, I am a doleramancer, a practitioner of pain magick, and in the handful of months I had been Lilah's master, I had discovered one very important fact about her: She could not experience pain, at least, not pain in the sense that you and I understand it. Literally every torture I could devise for her, she received as pure pleasure. She might have responded with appropriate noises and flinches when I would strike her, but never did she actually produce the waves of pain that roll from a subject in sweet agony. Thus, she could never be the source of my most potent fuel. Ever the pragmatist, I put her to work for me in other ways.

Lilah's charms as a succubus were of particular use to me, in the identification and procurement of victims for me. Also, though she could not produce genuine pain for me to feast upon, she did create copious amounts of sexual energy, which at least kept my lower order of powers perpetually ready for use. These services, while quite useful, did not take up much of her time, and as I am never one to waste a resource, I had decided that she could also serve in other capacities for me. In order for her be of true use, she needed an education beyond her limited knowledge of Hell and its denizens.

As a demon she had been spawned with what most mortals would consider impressive knowledge already. She could speak, read and write in any mortal language. She had a basic understanding of mathematics, astronomy and physics. She was 'born' with more practical knowledge than most American high school graduates, which I suppose is something of an indictment on the state of education. As impressive as her innate knowledge was, she lacked more advanced training in the sciences, and all of human history eluded her. She was also a terrible cook, and while a great mimic, lacked in any real fashion sense.

As she was not human, she did not have any sort of legal identity, so enrolling her in college would be problematic. Besides that, I didn't think that putting Lilah in a room full of horny college boys would be productive on any level. So it was that I took her education into my own hands. I set goals for her, provided her with the materials she would need to learn, and assigned reading projects to her. While there was something of a structure to this education, her education followed the form of things I thought would be useful to me for her to know. The science of chemistry and the art of alchemy, fashion and the arts, and some basic training in the use of her natural magickal talents were the first of her subjects to learn.

Each night after she was done with her required reading for the day I would quiz her on what she had read. If she had absorbed the information, she was treated to an evening of sexual depravity; Fun for me, food for her. At the end of the week I would concoct a test for her, and if her marks were high enough, I would give her a special treat for the weekend. She would be allowed to practice her particular brand of wiles freely about campus and the surrounding city.

Further, I gave her incentive by telling her that once I was satisfied with her education, I'd allow her to roam freely about the world, with the proviso that she would come to me when I call. As if she could resist my call, thanks to the collar. Much of what I did with her was in an effort to gain her obedience without having to rely on the collar's power over her, and in that, I had achieved some measure of success.

This brings me to the heart of this particular tale. Time was upon me for semester finals, and while my prodigious intellect was such that I required little study to attain excellent marks, I was aspiring to be the top of my class, and I had some stiff opposition. Thus, I was preoccupied with perusing my notes and text books in preparation for the coming exams. Lilah had impressed me over the course of the week and so, in an effort to reward her (as well as getting her out of my hair so I could study without her delectable distraction), I had given her a 'weekend pass'.

Of course I kept track of her through the use of various magicks. The collar she wore gave me ultimate access to her mind, and I could locate her simply by wishing to know where she was. A simple spell was all it took for me to see things through her eyes, and the use of other scrying techniques could provide still yet more detailed information as to what was going on around her. Occasionally throughout the weekend I 'checked in' on her, more that I could make sure she was not causing riots in the streets than for any real concern for her.

On Friday night she visited a pub off campus where the rugby team gathered after practice. In accordance with my mandate that she not kill any mortals, she did not drain any of them of their precious vitae, but many a young man left the pub that night feeling weak in the knees with memories that were sure to fuel masturbatory fantasies for years to come. She did not return to my room that night, and sometime in the wee hours I checked in on her again, to find that she had somehow made her way into a sorority house and was hosting an all night orgy with the girls that lived there.

On Saturday afternoon I looked in again to find that she had gotten herself invited home with a pair of thirty-somethings in the suburbs, and was in the process of helping them spice up their love life with the use of several toys including a paddle and a strap-on cock. Close to midnight that night I looked in on her again to find that she had discovered the strip club on the outskirts of town and was having fun compelling men there to empty their bank accounts for the benefit of the girls dancing on stage.

On Sunday she attended church. At first I was surprised to find her in such a place until I realized what she was up to, for it was no church of true faith that she was attending, but one of those 'God needs your money' places that relies on showmanship to bilk the masses. She had great fun making the holy icons (mass produced in China, no doubt) bleed from the eyes and make lewd moaning noises. After the service she found herself at the pastor's house being 'cleansed of her sins' by the pastor, his wife, and three of the church's congregation.

As the weekend came to a close, and I was satisfied that my studies were sufficient to earn me the top scores on all my exams for the following week, I looked in on my pet once more but could not find her. Not yet alarmed, I moved on to more advanced scrying techniques, and became aggravated when even these did not prove fruitful. I was not concerned for her safety, for at the time I was arrogant enough to consider the dangers that existed for demon-kind to be beneath me, and by extension, her. I was, however, concerned that perhaps she had been recalled to Hell, and this aggravated me to no end. After all, I had put so much work into her already. I had plans for her! Also, I'll admit, I had become rather fond of her boundless love of debauchery.

More effort would be required in locating her, so I broke out my more powerful spellcraft materials and performed an Omnus Mundi. Perhaps this was akin to bringing a nuclear bomb to a knife fight, but in my youth, moderation was not my strong suit. It required the vast majority of my dolera (that is, the pain essence that fuels my more powerful arcane arts) to cast this spell.

For those less than initiated in the arcane arts, allow me to explain why the Omnus Mundi was such an overreaction. The spell not only locates whatever is the focus of it, but also opens a proto-portal to the location of that focus, smashing through most normal wards in the process. There are means of warding against the Omnus Mundi, but very few arcane practitioners on Earth know how to lay it. Besides which, the Omnus Mundi itself requires so much arcane energy to cast that your average sorcerer isn't even capable of it, and further still, travel through the proto-portal is lethal to mortals. Indeed, the only reason I had access to it was because the spell had been granted to me as payment for a service I had rendered to an anansi many years prior, during my years in grade school.

My extra effort paid off. Despite requiring an incredible amount of power to activate it, the spell is a relatively simple one, requiring a spell circle of only the first degree, relatively common ingredients, a token of the focus, and of course, the blood of the caster. For a token, I used a small bit of Lilah's hair, something I had harvested within days of her coming into my service. I knew this spell would require more than a drop or two of my blood, so instead of the usual prick of a finger, I laid a blade across my arm and cut deeply, spilling my vital fluid into the casting bowl.

The spell took hold almost immediately. I could feel the arcane effect reaching into me, pulling my blood out, drinking thirstily of my energies. I'll admit I was a bit alarmed at first as the spell began pulling the blood out of me faster than my heart would pump it. Had I been any mortal caster the spell would have drained me dry and still be hungry for more. In my case it simply took much more than I had expected, if forced to guess, I'd say just a touch over a pint.

Once the spell finally had its fill of me, I could feel it beginning to activate. All around me arcane energies crackled, there was the sound like distant thunder and then a sound I can only describe as that of reality moaning in pain as its flesh was rent by the spell. From the casting bowl rose a thick silvery smoke which parted, forming an elongated ring that gave me a hazy view of another location. As I rose from my kneeling position I wiped the blood away from the cut on my arm, the wound already starting to seal up, a small part of my remaining dolera already at work healing me.

I really should have taken more time to prepare myself, but to be honest, my head was young and hot, and what I saw through the haze of the proto-portal drove me to act immediately. Through the veil I could see my Lilah lying upon a filthy mattress on a filthier concrete floor. She was bound by chains, and painted on the ceiling above her was a sloppy, yet effective devil's trap.

She was in a human form, but I knew it was her. Though to mortal eyes she seemed to be a lithe collegiate with shoulder length chestnut hair, delicately tanned skin and modest yet well formed breasts, my demonic eyes could still see the arcane etchings in her flesh, and more notably, the collar. Simply seeing her there was not what prompted me to so hastily step into the proto-portal, though, it was her state. I could see just by looking at her that she was weakened. Though the form she wore was an illusion, it did react to her actual state of being, and in this case, her skin carried an unhealthy pallor, her eyes were sunken in and ringed with dark circles. Her clothes, also illusions, but illusions with substance, lay in a shredded heap near the mattress. Worst of all, there was blood all about her neck, breasts, thighs and stomach, as if she had taken several mortal wounds and was in the process of bleeding out.

Hasty though it was, I stepped through the proto-portal, allowing the spell to whisk me from my secure dorm room to this dreary dungeon-esque chamber. I was so foolishly secure in my powers and knowledge of the arcane that thought of encountering something I could not handle did not even occur to me.

Travel through the proto-portal was excruciating. As I mentioned, this sort of travel would destroy any normal mortal, and as expected, the torrential magicks involved rent and tore at my human blood, doing its level best to burn me to cinders. Having experienced the things I have, I can confidently say that the sensation was very much like having the flesh flayed from my bones with white hot blades. Thankfully, my infernal half was strong enough to bear the journey, and when the proto-portal spat me out on the other side, I was whole, if disoriented and weak from the trip.

When I say that it spat me out, that is no euphemism. On this side of the portal I was thrown to the hard floor with enough force to knock me senseless for a moment, and I was coated head to toe in the ectoplasmic residue of the Shadow Veil. I had very literally delivered myself into the maw of the Shadowlands, and had been forcibly ejected from it as something poisonous, which indeed, I was.

I came to my senses quickly and rose from floor, glancing about the room to get my bearings. The room was dark, but my demonic eyes were more than sufficient to see in the gloom. There was a rickety wooden staircase leading up to a heavy wooden door, and no windows to be seen anywhere. The walls were cinder block, and the entire room smelled of earthy musk, urine, blood, and other, less pleasant odors. The aroma told me this much: Lilah had not been the first captor here, and judging from the blood stains on the mattress where she lay, the previous victims had met a gristly end.

Lilah reacted listlessly to my presence, moaning softly in her unconscious state. I had to feed her, but before I could do that I had the baneful devil's trap to deal with. I fixed my gaze up toward the ceiling where the sloppy paint marked out the trap, and raised my hand toward it. Generally demons could do nothing to a devil's trap but glare at it. Even half breeds like me are often helpless in the face of such devices. My infernal heritage is of a higher order, and for the first time in my life, I was actually glad that my mother was such an Infernal Bitch. A few muttered words and the expenditure of the last of my dolera allowed me to reach out with my arcane senses, take hold of the plaster on which the trap was painted, and with the clenching of my fist, destroy it completely. The plaster crumpled as if it were paper in my hand, then turned to dust which showered all about my Lilah and the repugnant mattress she lay on.

The chains were simple iron shackles, and it would be a simple spell to make them unlock and fall away. Unfortunately, I was weakened from my journey through the proto-portal, the last of my dolera had just been spent, and I would require at least a small refueling before my arcane stores were strong enough even for that simple task. As Lilah was the only potential source on hand, there was nothing else to be done than to use her for what she was worth in the moment.

I knelt to beside her, one hand sliding into her hair, the other cupping her chin, raising her face so that I could lower my face to hers. I could feel the stirrings of her lust already as I pressed my lips to hers, a familiar whimper of need filling the kiss as my hand slid down from her chin to roam her body. The blood at her neck and breast was still wet, if thick and sticky, and something about the pattern of it tugged at my thoughts. I pushed that aside for the moment, since she had no noticeable wounds, and pushed forward with my affections, undeterred by her bloody state.

Even in this desperate situation, in this filthy place, as my hand slid over the breast, her body reacted with need. Her whimper became a moan, her wrists and ankles pulled against the chains that held her down, and even this seemed to increase her desire, which was all to the good for me.

At first the wisps of sexual energy that wafted form here were mere vapors, not enough energy to power a flea, but the stirrings were there and already my dark soul was absorbing them, drawing into me the power of her lust. I let my hand linger on her breasts for a long moment, circling each nipple with my fingertips, tugging and pinching until they were hard little nubs. My hand slid down her stomach, and I relented in my kiss and lowered my mouth to her breast, taking one blood covered nipple in my mouth and sucking softly as my fingers dipped between her thighs. As expected, her pussy was wet and receptive to my touch; Succubi are built to be ever ready in that regard.

As my fingers plied her infernally delectable lips, I bit down on her nipple, and this brought forth the first true surge of erotic power from her. Her body arched to my touch and my bite and a low moan of need escaped her. She was coming about, and I was very glad to hear a murmured "Mmmm... Master?" tumble from her tongue. Encouraged by this, I shifted to tease her other nipple as two of my fingers pressed into her warm, eager slit, my palm resting on her clit with a steady, grinding pressure.

Judging from the sounds she made as I pushed my fingers deeper still, I could tell she was a disoriented, not entirely sure of where she was, but I could also tell she was very much enjoying being filled with my nimble fingers. I raised up from her breast, licking the bitter flavor of her blood away from my lips and gazed down into her eyes, which at the moment were chocolate brown. She gazed up at me with genuine need as my fingers began moving in and out of her, each inward thrust accompanied by a subtle 'come hither' gesture, stroking against her inner walls. Her need was such that she tugged all the harder against the chains that held her as I fingered her. I smiled as I could feel her passion rising already, and my hand in her hair reacted to her need by closing into a tight fist.

"You must cum for me, my pet. You WILL cum for me." My words had not been intended as a command, but an encouragement for her to release. Nonetheless, she took my words as an order and only a moment later, her body arched as far as her restraints would allow, and her pussy graced my fingers with a gush of thick, hot juices as her orgasm burst from her. The strength of her orgasm shocked even me, the power of it sent waves of erotic energies rolling from her like tidal waves. I closed my eyes and basked in her tsunami of sexual release, my fingers unrelenting in their movement inside her, compelling her to another orgasm, and then another.

"Master!" She cried as her pussy clamped down around my fingers and her final orgasm clawed its way out of her. Her hips rolled and bucked softly as her body calmed, and I slipped my fingers from her dripping cunt and offered them to her mouth, which she accepted hungrily. Even this subtle gesture sent aftershocks of erotic power through her body, and thus, into my dark spirit, and I drank ever drop of it.

By this point my own libido was raging, but it would have been self defeating to give into it. As much as I wanted to free myself, to thrust my engorged cock deeply into that quivering, eager pussy and fuck her relentlessly, in the end she would simply have taken back the feast of erotic energies she had just given up to me. My own personal fun would have to wait.

I rose to my feet and harnessed the power her lust had given me. A simple wave of my hand and a softly muttered word of power was all it took to cause the shackles to fall away from her. As I reached down to offer her a hand, her eyes widened and she cried out, "Master!" At first I thought perhaps this was simply an exultation at being freed from the chains, but too late I realized the truth of it. Her eyes were focused behind me, and as I turned to face whatever she was seeing, I was struck across the face with a fist, though it felt very much like a sledgehammer.

I woke up some time later, while I had no way of knowing exactly how long, I had the sense that it had only been a few moments. In the interim I had been settled into a dining room chair that had seen its better days, my hands bound behind me, my ankles tied to the legs of the chair. What had awakened me was my shirt being ripped open, and as my eyes fluttered open I could see a trio standing before me, the one who had ripped my shirt standing directly in front of me.