tagNonHumanA Mage's Addiction

A Mage's Addiction


It took me years to master the basics of the Magickal Arts, and from there, I was amazed at how relatively easy everything else was, as long as I followed in the footsteps of those who had gone before me. For every ten of them, perhaps one would have written down an account of his secrets, and it was thus that I found my way in the world of magick.

I suppose it was ten, maybe thirteen years after my first real lessons, that I decided I would attempt a full physically manifested conjuration. I had summoned and conjured before, but always either using passive magick or conjuring astral beings. It is vastly less energy intensive that way, and all my needs and desires up to that point had been fulfilled.

But I had reached a plateau, and my own successes never seemed to stick in my mind as being real for some reason. I always thought back and wondered, What if that was just wishful thinking? What if it were merely coincidence, or luck? Passive magick usually manifests in ways that resemble the latter. Mages of experience know better; there are no such things. So it was that bit of skepticism that finally pushed me to attempt the conjuration of a physically manifested being.

But what to conjure? My favorite was little fire elementals. The least of the kinds of fire elementals would fit, one at a time, in a bowl of burning alcohol quite nicely. I had enjoyed conjuring them many times. For this, though, fire elementals of any size would not be a wise choice. Air, water and earth elementals, of course, were out of the question also. Perhaps I should conjure an angel? And then what would I do with it? I wondered.

A ghost? No, they had no physical form to begin with. What could I command into physical form and have use for? Surely a demon would be just as useless to me as an angel would. Or would it? Hmmm... Maybe a succubus...

Surely there is really no such thing, insisted my skeptical mind. But, just in case, I was intrigued enough to start searching through my library. As it turns out, they really do exist. Within half an hour, I had found a few eyewitness accounts, and the instructions on how to summon them. I would summon a succubus, have sex with her, and then dismiss her back to her home. It would prove once and for all what was true and what was simply niggling doubt, and I would have a chance to let go of my sexual tensions for a while, on top of it.

The materials were fairly easy to acquire, and the preparations took less than a month to complete. The actual casting only required perhaps 30 minutes, and then a continuous chant while feeding the conjured entity enough energy to manifest. I opted to use the easy method and give a blood sacrifice for that part. A goat was recommended, but I couldn't bring myself to kill a creature for my experiment, so I used my own blood instead. That was mistake #2. Mistake #1: I never bothered to read up on succubi before I summoned one. Very, very stupid. I should have been years past making such mistakes. Of course, it's to late now. The damage is done, and I'll be paying for it for the rest of my life. Maybe even longer.

I performed the spell without difficulty. The herbs and other special things that were to be burned in the brazier were horrendous to smell when they burned, at least to my nose. To the demon I was calling, this would have smelled like perfume, compared to Hell. When the spell called for it, I cut myself on the arm so that my blood would run fresh, but slow, for a long time. The pain and sensation of separating flesh were unpleasant, but I was fairly well tranced as usual during complex spells, and it didn't much bother me.

My lifeblood dripped from my arm into the hand carved wooden bowl in the binding circle I had engraved into the floor. Had I been more aware on a normal, conscious level, I would have noticed more quickly that as each drop of blood splattered into that bowl, it was absorbed by something.

I could feel the spirit I had conjured, even see it's astral form. That was no problem for me. I was an old hand at working on the astral. But with each slow, steady drip of the life flowing from me, it's presence grew in strength, until I began seeing with my physical eyes what can only be described as an apparition. The shifting white misty form began to coalesce into the general shape of a standing body, growing more defined with each slow, deliberate drip.

Before the hour had passed, the spirit was physically well defined and plainly visible, though still I could see through her. She was as the drawings and woodcuts had depicted a succubus. A tall, beautiful human looking female, with a few differences. There were the scaly yellow clawed feet, for instance, which would have been more at home perhaps on a giant eagle. And the small grey devil horns erupting from the sides of her forehead. The vampire-like fangs that shone when she smiled at me for the first time. But most obvious were the too-small black bat wings that sprouted out of her back. I say they were too small because they could never have hoped to raise her aloft; rather, they seemed to be more useful for expressing her excitement at being pulled into the world of humans.

Another hour passed, and I milked my arm to keep the blood flowing at the same constant rate. Too fast and she would grow out of my control; too slow, and the physical form would would slip away. The translucence of her form slowly diminished until she appeared as solid as you or I. The best reference I had, the account of a mage named Grimaldo the Great, warned that, lest she not be bound fully by the spell, I should continue to feed the manifestation for yet another hour. And so I did.

At the end, I felt faint from the blood loss. I had given almost a quart of my life to her, and it was evident that she had enjoyed it. But she was well bound, so I was safe. Now it was time to bind her to my will and force her to do my bidding.

“What would you have of me, mage?” she asked in the most sensual, lust-filled voice I have ever heard, before or since. It was so sweet and caressing that I thought perhaps I might fall in love with her. Succubi have the ability to charm the minds of men, but I knew about that, and in the knowing was her defeat. Since she had expected to fail, she only made a small show of pouting at the response she had hoped would not come.

“I have conjured you to physical manifestation to serve me in one single task, succubus, and then you may depart back to your home.” I said evenly.

“Service is always at a cost,” she purred. “What would you have me do, and what would you do for me in return?”

“I have already done for you, succubus. I have fed your coming with my own life blood, instead of that of a goat. I know this is a rare and special gift. Thus, all that is left, is for you to repay me.”

“Oh, you have done your homework, haven't you, Master? You are correct. I am in your debt, although your play is unfair, since I could hardly refuse it. What, then, would you have of me? Shall I seduce a married man for you, commit an untraceable murder? Make a mockery of the security of some fool's home? Nullify the wards placed against you? What is your demand?” She sounded half curious and half bored while somehow maintaining that undeniable lusty tone.

“You will do nothing more than receive my seed, and then you will return to the Pits.” I replied. Her eyes flashed at me, and she frowned.

“Surely you jest, Master. It is unfair to tease me like that,” she replied, her hands beginning to play in the feminine folds between her legs, and over her full, ripe bosom.

“I do not jest. Your entire task is to give me the most intense orgasm a human can possibly have without dying, and then go back from whence you came.”

“And where would my Master have his seed deposited within me?” She asked, her snake-like tongue flicking out to taste the air.

“I will plant my seed in your femalia, succubus.”

“Oh!!!” she squealed, delighted. “I had so hoped you would say that! Very well, Master, I shall do as you command.”

With no further ado, she turned and presented herself to me, on hands and knees. It was the most intoxicatingly beautiful, sexy, arousing ass I had ever seen in my life. As well bound as she was, there would be no risk to stepping into the binding circle, and so I strode forward, my erection instantly ready for her. Lifting my robe, I tucked the front into the belt, and proceed to mount her.

There is simply no way I can ever hope to describe what pleasure such a creature can bring a man who finds himself on the receiving end of such attentions. It is so far beyond words that even trying to describe the sensation makes me laugh at the sheer futility of it. It is so amazing that, had she not been magically keeping it from happening, I am sure I would have orgasmed before ever finishing my first thrust into her.

For how long we had sex, I could not say; time ceased to be for me then. My awareness of everything but that pleasure was gone. Everything – even my awareness of my body, and my self. The only thing left was my awareness of my awareness itself, and that overwhelming, endless pleasure. It might be fair to say that it was equivalent to perhaps ten thousand mind-blowing orgasms all at once, and that intensity of indescribable bliss seemed to go on without end for eternity. There was no crescendo, it was perfect pleasure from the instant I parted her sex lips with my manhood to the moment I regained consciousness.

When I came to, she was gone. The seal on the door was intact, so I knew she had to have returned to Hell. My robe was across the room, and I felt an odd affinity to the cold, hard stone floor, as though it was powerfully magnetic and I was stuck to it. My body felt as though it were made of lead. I slowly dragged myself to a sitting position and examined my crotch.

Where there had been a thick brown bush, now was no hair at all. All that was left was little balls of the burnt remains of hair. There was no burn on the skin, though. My still-erect penis was scabbing in a few spots where the skin had been worn away from so much sex. I ached all over, ached as though I had fallen off a tall cliff onto a pile of rocks far below, and somehow survived. A little of the afterglow was still there, and it was, all by itself, truly amazing. There wasn't a hint of my semen anywhere; she'd taken all I had produced and cleaned up well, apparently. To my amazement, I was horny. Hornier than I had ever been in my entire life. My penis, I realized, was sore not so much from the holes in my skin, but from the force with which that skin was being stretched by my straining, enormous stiffness. I knew then and there that I had a problem. A big, big, big problem.

I was hopelessly addicted.

You may be wondering what I did next. Well, without doubt I wanted to call her back, conjure and bind her, and force those unbelievable orgasms from her into myself forever, and until I died. But I did not. And why? Simply enough, because one can only conjure a succubus once per day.

Since then, I have found that she is more than willing to come when I call, though I cannot give my own blood to each calling. I have actually discovered a simplified system that does not require any blood at all, and I am certainly the world's foremost authority, now, on the physical conjuration of succubi. She comes to my calling, each morning when I awaken, because she wishes to. Not because I am good at sex, or because I have promised my soul, nothing like that. It is because I have what she exists for, and I give it gladly: Human semen.

Each day, you see, I awaken from my tortured sleep, and I call her to me in order to ease my hopeless addiction. Each day, she appears, distended with her pregnancy, and gives birth to another of our half-demon children while I impatiently await my turn with her. And then, like clockwork, she presents herself, and I can at last lose myself to her unearthly bliss.

If there is a God, I know that by now, I will be going to Hell not just once, but probably as many times as I have brought a cambion into the world of humans. Cambions, if you weren't aware, are half demons, and they can freely roam the land, wreaking whatever havoc they wish, while remaining unaffected by the bindings and wards that would have effect on their full-blooded demonic parents.

I have lost count of the number of cambions I have spawned by now. It is all I can do to write this with my hands shaking as they are. They will shake like this until tomorrow, when she comes to my desperate calling, bares another of our loathsome children, and then for a while frees me of my suffering. It wasn't what I had envisioned as happening to me when I cast that spell... but perhaps these words I write now will some day save from my fate someone as foolish as I was, but just a little more fortunate.

May God have mercy on my soul.


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