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My entry in the Halloween Story Contest 2023, and for that reason I would like to encourage you to vote when you've finished reading. Thank you.
Tags/mini-spoilers: Lesbian, Non-human, Demon, Succubus, London, First Time Lesbian, Oral, Scissoring, Romance, Halloween 2023.
Copyright © 2023. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorised use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.
A Halloween Tail
"Just say you'll come."
I internalised my sigh. "You know I hate Halloween."
"Then come for the party!"
"You know what I hate more than Halloween?"
"Parties?" Julia's laugh came through clearly, and I could perfectly picture her expression.
"Then come for me. Please?"
Dammit. That was playing dirty. This time I didn't try to hide my sigh.
"That sounded like a 'yes', Abbs!" Julia's excitement sounded so genuine, even across the phone line, that I could only shake my head in rueful capitulation.
"Fine. But you owe me for this."
"Yay! And I promise you it'll be worth it! I'll save you a cute guy in a sexy vampire costume!"
"That's an oxymoron."
"Hah! Don't be like that. See you by ten, then?"
I looked around my small flat at the preparations I'd already made. "Er... I'll probably a bit later than that. Something I need to... take care of, first."
"Just so long as you get here, ya hear?"
"Okay, okay. I'll be there." So I was a pushover. What was new?
"Awesome, babe. Loads to do! See you later then!" The line went dead.
I sighed again, tossing my phone onto the bed. I glanced at the clock - just after nine.
I knelt carefully inside the pentacle I'd painstakingly painted over the cheap, thin carpet of my living room. My copy of the Daemonia Revelata was already open to the correct page, propped against a bookstand that rested on the floor nearby. I picked up the long taper I'd been using before Julia called and relit it from one of the candles that was already burning.
It took several moments to light the rest of the candles. Sixty-one in total - hundreds of pounds' worth - a reasonable chunk of my meagre disposable income. Five at each point of the pentacle. Eight large ones in the centre, at the points of the compass, then reducing in size but increasing in number for each subsequent circle. Evenly spaced, and precariously balanced on the carpet - that had taken a while. Who knew candles were as irritating as dominos?
Nothing screamed 'fire hazard' like enough candles to illuminate my small flat, naked flames in three concentric circles, the light reflecting off my bare skin. The landlord would have apoplexy, not least because earlier that afternoon I'd sabotaged his smoke alarm.
I took a steadying breath, letting it slip out slowly. It was now, or never. The culmination of months of effort. Years, if you counted how long I'd been searching for a copy of that book. Ever since an obscure reference briefly glimpsed... that fateful day, seven years previously, when I was an eager straight-A student rewarded with a behind-the-scenes insight into the treasures of the British Museum. Those fleeting moments spent gazing at a page from a manuscript hundreds of years old. The Daemonia Revelata.
Three years tracking down the book, four months researching in Ireland, and another eight studying Gaelic and Latin. I'd exhausted the bank of Dad, sold my car, and got a loan.
And tonight was the night that it would all come together. Samuin. Samain. Samhain. Lemuria. All Hallow's Eve. Halloween. The night where the barrier to the dead and the supernatural was at its weakest. When kids got sticky, adults got drunk - and everyone agreed bobbing for apples was a bad idea.
Technically, it didn't have to be tonight - but the book had made it clear that it would be easier. More potent.
If this was to work, I knew I'd need every edge I could get.
I ran my eyes over the page again, even though I didn't need to. I was now so familiar with the Latin that I could read it at a glance. Oh, I was proficient enough to translate Saint Augustine's 'Confessions' or enjoy Virgil's 'The Aeneid' in the original text, but the Daemonia Revelata? I knew it by heart.
The first half was warnings, of course: we really don't recommend you take this stuff lightly, because apparently, some demons are bad. Soul-sucking, malice-intending, chaos-bringing malevolent beings intent on destruction and out to really screw you over.
That was okay. I didn't intend on getting anywhere near that stuff.
Most of the rest of the book focused on banishing demons. This had been the priority for the authors - originally, Irish Druids intent on controlling the Tuatha De Danann. But as the book evolved over the centuries with Roman and Christian influences, the remit grew even as the objectives remained the same. Everyone had demons.
I'd memorised the banishment spell as a precaution, and it was... well, easy. They'd mastered it over the centuries, it seemed. It was good to have that up my sleeve. Assuming it worked. I hoped I'd never need to find out. The pentacle was designed to protect me, anyway. According to the book, it should also keep the demon in the vicinity, tethering it here. I certainly didn't want it wandering off.
As far as I could determine, Mephistopheles and Belial weren't specific, named entities, but different shades of grey - though it might be more accurate to say different shades of black. The book didn't differentiate care to give them names; that came later with cross-over influences from religion, biblical stories, and then modern pop culture. Instead, according to the book, demonology was organised by sin: Anger, Hate, Wrath, and so on. The list of sins was very extensive. Apparently, there was a Demon of Gossip.
And this is where it got really interesting, for the techniques to defend the world against the forces of evil could also be used to summon them. Allegedly. And bind them. Allegedly.
I was about to find out just how true that was.
Don't get me wrong: I wasn't interested in destroying the world; I just wanted to change it a bit. Not all of it, just the bit immediately in my sphere. Like my bank balance, for example. Perhaps some minor cosmetic tweaks... like never having to shave again, ever. A little bit of anti-ageing so I'd retain my youthful looks a while longer.
Nothing that really mattered.
The last few pages of the book talked about the powers demons had, their influence over man. Their ability to persuade, beguile and charm. Even the most minor of demons held enough sway to influence the minds of mortals. A suggestion here, an enticement there. Not enough to reduce a victim to a gibbering vegetable, but more than enough to make them... receptive.
It was all too easy to see how that could be used.
I reached out, brushing my fingertips over the page before me. The very same page that I had first seen, briefly, seven years ago in the British museum.
Et potestates colligere possunt. And the powers can be harnessed.
Powerful words on an impressionable mind.
It was a happy coincidence that my 18-year-old self had attended a school with a motto almost identical: Veritas, Virtus, et Potestates Colligere Possunt. Truth and virtue can be harnessed. Presumably, the school meant 'through education', but what was a little short cut here and there?
Of course, I'd recognised the words immediately.
Harnessing powers. Demon powers. It was enough to make anyone sit up and take notice.
Since then, my research had been extensive, consuming all my spare time and resources, but my knowledge of the book was now complete.
What had been of particular interest was the import the book gave to the various sins - and the relative powers of the demons. The greater the sin, the greater the demon. Obvious enough. I'd wanted something I could control easily. After all, releasing a Wrath Demon in the middle of the city sounded like a step too far - even if many of the people living here had earned that karma.
No, the major sins were most definitely out. But the book carefully ordered a full list of sins by the potency of the associated demon. There were 412 sins, and I knew the list by heart. Some held no appeal, such as Pride - very middle-of-the-road, but not obviously of use. Theft - more direct than I needed - there were other ways of getting what I wanted. Idolatry - very minor, as if even the demons didn't really care. Perjury - which hardly registered in the power levels. Or Apostasy. Apparently, abandoning one's religion was hardly a crime as far as demons were concerned.
Even Lying was towards the bottom. 398 of 412. That made me feel a lot better about many of my life choices.
Some were amusingly low down. Sloth, for example, was almost at the bottom at 404. I was pretty sure I could control a Sloth Demon, but what would be the point? I could just picture that conversation:
"Make me wealthy, foul demon!"
"Yeah sure, whatever. No rush, right?"
But Lust. Lust was a different matter altogether. Still incredibly far down the pecking order, relatively speaking - clearly, demons considered the expression of sexual urges to be barely a sin at all. Yet I knew what the demons, it seemed, did not: the world was now controlled by Lust.
With a Lust Demon in my power, the world would be open to me in ways I could only dream. Men and women would fall at my feet to give me what I wanted.
Obviously I wouldn't go that far.
But... it was appealing, nevertheless.
So it was that I was naked, on the night of Samhain or All Hallow's Eve, kneeling in a pentacle and in direct contravention of the flat's fire regulations. The nudity was applicable for the demon type I wanted, of course. Another good reason why Lust was more accessible than, say, Procrastination (409).
How did one even summon a Procrastination Demon? By getting around to it tomorrow?
Okay. Enough dissembling. Either I was doing this, or I wasn't.
My eyes pored over the page for the thousandth time. I knew what I had to do, what I had to say. I'd memorised it months ago. It was time.
I cupped my bare breast and flicked my nipple with my thumb.
The book had been insistent on the effectiveness of alignment to the sin in question.
I tweaked, pulling slightly, trying to set aside my apprehension and the fear that this was all a fiction, that all my effort had been for nothing. That it wouldn't work.
It definitely wouldn't work if I couldn't get in the mood.
My other hand stroked lightly down over my stomach and dipped between my thighs.
It was harder than I'd expected to make this sexy. My mind was in a different space. The candles helped - the gentle flames were sensuous, calming - but the pentacle was a distraction. As was the book.
Not my usual masturbatory aids.
I glanced toward the bedroom, thinking of the Hitachi Wand in my bedside table. I'd left it there on purpose, not wanting to risk the unpredictable mixture of technology and magic. Or the distraction of something that intense.
No, the intent was for feelings of lust, not helpless, toe-curling orgasms.
Yet the mere thought of my wand had edged up my arousal. I lifted my fingers to my mouth, wetting them with my tongue, and slipped them again between my legs.
"Per spiritus mortuorum et per vitam circa," By the spirits of the dead and the life around me.
The candles flickered as one. Maybe a draft. It was too early to allow for hope.
"Audi me, Daemon Luxuriae." Hear me, Demon of Lust.
I slipped a finger between the lips of my vulva, flicking teasingly over my entrance, collecting some of the moisture that had already gathered.
"Te vocco, Daemon Luxuriae." I call you, Demon of Lust.
My arousal was growing rapidly, and a shiver ran through my body. I flicked my thumb over my nipple again, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. I pinched, twisting slightly. Better.
"Te impero, Daemon Luxuriae." I command you, Demon of Lust.
A jolt of pleasure pulsed through me, making my breath catch. My finger slid up over my clit, my arousal surprisingly intense. This wasn't as hard as I thought it would be.
"Te invocco; tua es." I invoke thee; you are mine.
A wave of arousal washed through me, and I gasped involuntarily. It was almost as strong as some orgasms I'd had. My body trembled within the pentacle, my pussy flooding with moisture.
Fuck, that wasn't me.
It was both exciting and scary. My response was way too strong from merely my own gentle ministrations. My pulse was racing, my body perspiring, and my clit... my clit was throbbing. I moaned as I ran a fingertip over it.
But it was incontrovertible proof that the book was genuine, that what I was doing was real. I felt the thrill of power run through me, combining with the intensity of my arousal. God, it felt good.
Focus, Abby, focus. It was an effort to say the words, my body squirming with need. My hips wouldn't keep still, and my thighs were damp. And still I'd hardly touched myself.
"Tua ad me venies, ego iubeo!" You will come to me, I command it.
I cried out as the orgasm crashed through me, my body trembling with the intensity of it. It was the strongest, most overwhelming sensual experience I'd ever had, and all from barely a touch on my own body. It was too much, more than I could cope with, and it didn't seem to be lessening. I gasped as my body clenched again, a renewed wave of pleasure coming so swiftly on the back of the first.
God, I'm... going to pass out...
A third orgasm hit, my body jerking in response. I could barely manage a moan.
Hitachi has nothing on magic...
I became aware that I was lying on the carpet. I opened my eyes. The candles were still burning, though each sat in their own pools of melted wax. How long had I been out for?
I'm lying next to the candles. I sat up swiftly, then groaned as the movement was too fast. At least I didn't set fire to my hair.
It took a moment to remember. The spell. The visceral, sensual reaction. Multiple orgasms in rapid succession, each stronger than any I'd ever had before. I could still feel the afterglow throughout my body.
That had been one amazing experience. Thank God I hadn't tried to summon a Gluttony Demon (329 of 412); I would've probably eaten my sofa.
I took a deep, steadying breath, looking around myself. The book sat innocuously on its stand, still open on the page. Candlelight reflected around my living room, a pleasing orange glow that matched the one within me.
If nothing else I'm going to have to try that spell again sometime. That was... wow. Just wow.
I rose, my legs unsteady, and glanced down.
The pentacle was disturbed where I'd fallen across it. I bent, examining it carefully. Was it broken? There wasn't enough light to be sure.
I glanced around my flat. Nothing else seemed any different; no hot incubus (or whatever a lust demon might call itself) sat naked on my couch. Dammit. I thought it had worked.
I glanced at the clock: 9:52. Crap. How long had I been out for?
Quickly, I stepped to the light switch and flicked it on, the shadows instantly receding. Shower, clothes... but first...
I knelt beside the pentacle again, carefully examining where I had inadvertently disturbed it. A hairline of un-painted carpet sat smugly beneath the smudge.
Fuck. Was that the reason it hadn't worked?
Despondently, I doused all the candles. All that work just for mind-blowing orgasms.
I supposed I could try again. Technically, it didn't need to be Halloween... it was just supposed to be way more effective on this one night of the year. Can I wait another twelve months?
Right now, Julia was waiting. Dejected and suddenly tired, a party was the last thing I wanted to do. But I'd promised. And I was already late.
I'd showered already earlier in the day, but after that intense magically-inspired sexual workout, another was most definitely in order. I sluiced off quickly, grabbed the hair dryer and thought about what to wear. The little black dress? No. Too formal. Jeans? Too casual.
Walking naked through the flat to my bedroom, I opened my wardrobe and glumly perused the limited options. How cold was it outside? A glance out of the window showed a London sky that threatened rain. Julia's flat was only a few minutes' walk away, it wasn't quite worth calling an Uber. Plus, a walk could save a bit of money. Wouldn't have been a problem if the damn spell had worked. Now I'd have to keep being frugal - my loan repayments alone accounted for large chunks of my monthly income.
I pulled out my favourite Autumn coat: a long, black affair I'd brought from Hobbs some years previously when money hadn't been such a problem. I laid it carefully on the bed and turned again to the wardrobe.
In the end, I settled on a favourite knee-length A-line skirt. It swished when I walked, the material a pleasing quality. Beneath, a pair of comfortable lacy panties; they were attractive enough, not that anyone else would ever get the chance to admire them. I paired the skirt with a strappy top that was tight enough to make a bra unnecessary. I hated wearing bras anyway. A buttoned cardigan for warmth, my knee-high boots to finish the ensemble. I examined the final look in the mirror. Not exactly chic, but it'll have to do.
There were many reasons I didn't go to parties, my lack of suitable wardrobe options being just one.
A glance at the clock: 10:25. Time to get a move on.
I skipped through the flat, picking up my purse, house keys, wallet. If I walked swiftly enough I could be at Julia's by a quarter to eleven. That wasn't too late, was it?
I rode the lift down to the foyer, stepping out with a resigned sigh. I'd much rather be sitting in bed with a book and a cup of hot chocolate. Friends were so much effort.
It wasn't until I'd stepped out onto the street that I realised my coat was lying on the bed. Crap. But then, it wasn't quite as cold as I'd feared. If I went back for it I'd be later still, and Julia wouldn't be happy. Maybe, if I walked fast, I could keep warm. Julia always had her heating on, and perhaps she'd make me a warming cup of tea. Coz, yeah... that's what people drink at parties.
Sighing again, I set off along the street. Just so long as it doesn't rain later.
"Sweetheart! You made it!" You could just hear the exclamation marks. It was lucky Julia was such a good friend: her exuberance was often more than I could bear.
"Come in, come in! You look freezing!"
Julia opened the door wider, showing her small flat. Halloween decorations abound in black and orange, spider webs festooned the ceiling and walls. Just inside the door was a full-size skeleton, looking about as convincing as my mother's spray tan.
Her flat was crowded with people. And all of them were wearing a costume.
Fuck. I forgot about the costumes. But then, I didn't have one anyway. Why had I even agreed to come?
"Er... Juls... I don't have a costume. Perhaps it would be best if I... y'know... went back home?"
"Rubbish! You look lovely! And you're my best friend. Please, Abbs, stay for me?"
"Oh... very well."