Na'amah - The Second Succubus

I folded my hands, thinking of my current son. He had become a disappointment for me, had grown needlessly vicious and spoiled, with an intellect little beyond that of a clumsy oaf, a violent clumsy oaf whose only skill was on the battlefield. Even Azazel struggled to temper him. "Know what entails being a mother? Dealing with rebellious children. I refuse."

"Yes, your son is rebellious isn't he?" She glowered, then sighed as a shadow tendril entered between her legs before dissipating, "But you do not fool me, you feel no love for him, he is inferior, unsuited to our designs. I have seen this, and I know you feel this. He shall not last. But the progeny of Shamdon's, I promise he will do nicely, you will develop a true bond to him, and he will thrive."

I felt the blood drain from my face, it was one thing to think such things of my son, another to hear them voiced aloud so casually. "How dare you speak of my son so? You think to deceive me, your kind are known for such things. Again, I refuse."

She laughed, a musical and terrible thing, "We are more honest than your gods. Oh daughter, you may refuse but your body cannot. We are more closely bonded than you know, you are my living avatar, in time I shall wear you as I please. Now go and seduce him."

"More lies." I screeched, stomping out of the room, laughter only I could hear trailing after me.

I rejoined the festivities, men juggled scimitars on stage, the Grigori gorged a huge portion of the foods on offer, already beginning to tower over the rest of us. A source of growing consternation amid some people. I joined my seat beside Azazel. I did my usual, giving seductive glances to various people whose influence was of import, relishing the various drunken eyes upon my body partaking of the fine wine before me. I took no heed of the faint whisper in my head and the slight twitch in my extremities.

As the night wore on however, the twitch grew to a throb, to an ache, to a raging inferno. The whisper in my skull took on more and more perverse tones, further arousing me. It grew to the point where it was unbearable. I wanted to scream, jump on stage and beg everyone to fuck me it was so bad. Only when I saw Shamdon giving his farewells did I understand that either I did as mother wished or finally lose my sanity completely.

Giving some flimsy excuse, I excused myself and rushed out into the city, the cool night air doing nothing to dampen my fire. I made my way down the street, moving as swiftly and silently as I could until I saw Shamdon on his journey to the Grigori quarter. His walk was faltering, suggesting he was deep into his cups, a good sign. I raced into the next street and ahead of him so that I could emerge before him from a dark alley like a common whore. The thought of it sent a strange sense of excitement through me.

Emerging into his line of sight, I trailed my hands over myself, jewels clinking, "Hail Shamdon, why do you leave so soon? I was hoping I could get to know you better?"

Shamdon took pause, he was no Semyaza or Azazel, but he was still handsome. My hunger for him only grew, more so for the taboo nature of it. "Is that you, holy one?"

"It is I." I replied, moving closer, "And you are you. I am with you, but would you be with me?"

Hesitation, it was not unexpected, "I don't think Lord Azazel would care for this behaviour."

"Then it is not I." I grinned, "You are but a Grigori with an itch, and I am but a nameless whore on the street, used today and forgotten tomorrow." The promise of secrecy was enough, he allowed himself to be pulled into the alleyway.

Later that night I returned to the bedchamber, where mother still stood at the mirror, "You enjoyed that, do not deny it."

"It was...different." Shamdon had taken my role of street whore to heart. He bent me over a barrel of gods knows what and thrust into me with all the abandon of a sex starved sailor. Although I would not admit it aloud, I found the role to my liking. "So now what?"

"Open your legs, show me." I fell back on the bed and did so, mother studied the loins that a world craved for with keen interest, "You are fertilised, my beloved breeding mare."

"Oh stop it." I said as I rubbed scented ointments over myself.

Chuckling, mother kissed the pane, "Thank you daughter, be sure you lay with your husband tonight, lest suspicion arise. You will be glad of tonight, I promise you this."

She was not wrong, and as I lay with Azazel I foresaw a new king rising, powerful, handsome. Behind him was legion upon legion of mutated horrors, ready to subdue the world to his will.

4. Protoplast

"And two female spirits (Lilith and Naamah) would come and copulate with him and bear children. and those whom they bore are the evil spirits of the world who are called the Plagues of Mankind. And they lead the sons of man astray, and dwell in the doorway of the house, and in the cisterns and in the latrines..."

-Zohar

"I would have you work with me tonight." Mother said.

I knelt before the mirror in a dour mood. I had given birth to a son, who we named Ashmedai. Even as a newborn I felt an unusual love for him and sensed his greatness to come. But I had to wonder if he would ever grow to achieve it. There had been more and more revolts breaking out in the city, sparked by famine caused by our nephilim children. Worse, it was coming to light that the nephilim lacked moral restraint like their Grigori fathers. My own son had partaken of vile vices before being beaten to death by a mob in the street. There were even reports that some nephilim had taken to eating us mortals as a delicacy. Father and Azazel did their best to quell the unrest, but it was growing harder and harder whilst our resources continued to dwindle.

Worse, there was rumour of a gathering army, dedicated to wiping out the nephilim and the Grigori, that was soon to march upon them.

I was beginning to feel the consequences of my mother's influence also. Before, I had always been promiscuous, but I could see now I was becoming outright depraved. Surrendering to my insistent body, I began sneaking out more and more to engage in sexual acts I would never have considered before. Worse, I enjoyed these forays and craved them.

"Daughter?"

I broke out of my thoughts, "Last night I went to the harbour, where I was gang-fucked by a group of foul smelling fishermen."

Purring, mother clasped her breasts, "Lucky whore, would that I could have been there with you."

"Weren't you? I begin to wonder."

"I merely bring your true self to the surface. The sooner you embrace that aspect of your nature the more pleasure it will bring you. Now, will you travel with me tonight?"

Blinking in confusion, I raised a perfect eyebrow, "How?"

"Mirrors are not just windows to my realm daughter." she laughed in that musical tone, "They are gateways, portals. Come forth, take my hand."

Uncertain, I stood, and reached out. I gasped in delight when my hand easily passed through, and for the first time since that night by the lake I felt my mother's touch once again. Her touch set me alight once more, and all the distaste for my depraved acts changed to pride. I wanted only to experience more such things at my mother's side. I stepped through, and then we were flying.

I whooped and laughed as the world spun below me, my mood uplifted, I clasped my mother's hand tightly, and wondered if this is what it was to be a goddess, looking down upon creation as she would ants. The journey ended far too soon, with mother setting me down upon a field beside a fast-flowing river. Beside it stood a simple hut, right out in the middle of nowhere. "Why bring me here?"

"There is a repenting man in there, in need of release." She tutted, "I know him, he will snap out of it eventually, but in the meantime I mean to procure as much of his seed as possible. Will you work with me?"

I was giddy with the chance to see my mother in action, "Of course, lead the way."

We walked over to the doorway, where she paused. "Do as I do." With that, she dimmed into a shadow, flitted through the closed door, and smiled at me through a nearby window.

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Imagine you do not exist, that you never were, that you are nothing. You will fade, you'll see."

I closed my eyes, went into the deep trance I was accustomed to for ritual, imagined I was not, never was, and proceeded to thud straight into the door. Cursing and fretting over the imagined damage to my face, I heard a bolt sliding and mother opening the door for me, grinning mischievously, "It will take some practice, come."

I entered the wretched little hovel, unimpressed by the simple place. I was less impressed by the man sleeping on a simple straw mat, his faced lined with years of guilt and self loathing, "Who is this?"

Mother rolled her eyes, "Father of all, yet with all the awareness of an infant. Come, it is his seed we need." Unsure what she meant, I watched as she set a nearby lamp on low, and pulled his thorn covered loincloth away. He remained in slumber, yet his cock swelled with my mother's presence. I watched my mother set to with fascination, it was like watching the most talented performer. Truly I had found my equal in beauty and skill at harlotry. She choked and slobbered over his phallus with the same hunger as myself, before taking him into her womb. I watched, hypnotised, as she bounced herself up and down, tits flailing, hair flicking, her moans uniting with his. Then, suddenly, she stopped, and beamed at me as she panted, "This is not a solo performance daughter, come."

I did just that. Together we licked at his phallus, myself jerking with delight when my tongue brushed with mother's. We took turns taking him into us, every hole of me got to know his member intimately. As I rode him mother locked lips with myself, spurring me further. I felt myself dissolve into her, and welcomed it.

At last I felt our reward approaching. I had always worked myself for influence, wealth and power. But to whore myself for the semen alone lent a new kind of thrill. I waited, eager to lap it up, when mother produced a silver goblet. "Sorry dear, I suggest you go out and drink someone else's seed later. This one is mine." She then whipped forwards as he ejaculated, catching the seed in the goblet, before flicking the lid closed.

Arms around one another's waists we left the dingy hut, laughing wickedly and remarking upon each other's prowess. She then flew me back and bid me step back through the mirror. "We shall repeat this tomorrow night," She promised, brushing hair back around her sovereign horns,"For as many nights as possible. I want to ensnare as much of his seed as I can before he finally crawls out of his self-pity. It is also the perfect chance to teach you true whoredom, daughter."

Before I could enquire about this mystery man further, I was left with my own sweat sheened image.

I sat on my bed awhile, still maddeningly aroused and feeling the beginnings of a new kind of thirst, for what I could not then say. But I waited late into the night with no sign of my husband, the business of the revolt keeping him at bay. So I summoned Chedipe and we made into the city, wondering if any of those smelly fishermen were still around.

5. Fascinus

"And the women have borne giants, and the whole earth has thereby been filled with blood and unrighteousness."

- The Book of Enoch

I should probably note us mortals back then are not as you are today. We 'antediluvians' as you term us, were are longer lived for starters, unlike you who waste away and die in the blink of an eye. Almost nightly for roughly one hundred thirty years I went with mother to the strange man, whose identity I would come to understand, until one night she proclaimed their window of opportunity over. I was saddened not to be working with her further, she was perhaps the only woman whom it pleased me to observe beside myself. Promising we would dabble in the ways of harlotry again, I continued my studies under her brazen watch.

As I progressed under the tutelage of my mother, it became clear to me that I would need to bring my closest priestesses into the fold to ensure their absolute loyalty. Certainly they had taken on some of my influence in their behaviours, but not too the levels that would eventually be demanded. Every moment spent working in the lower spheres of existence was a risk of being discovered, and should such a moment arise I would need allies.

Summoning my handmaidens, we gathered in a room used for private ritual. The braziers burned and gave of a morbid scent, if any of them noticed that the protective charms and markings were missing they did not comment, I had them kneel around the altar, the images of our deities ominously absent. "I would reveal a new ritual of my own design. It begins," I picked up a bowl filled with a concoction formulated under the advise of my mother, "With a drink. Take only a sip and hand it to the next devotee." I passed the silver bowl to Chedipe, who dutifully sipped and handed it on.

Once done, I placed the bowl back on the altar and looked them over, seeing the potion and the fumes were already starting their work. "First, we must meditate. Close your eyes, slow your breathing, focus until your mind is blank." Trusting as ever, they did as I bid, "Good, now conjure this image. Imagine a mighty phallus before you," A few snickers, "Focus now. Imagine it, erect, throbbing, dripping with pre-cum. You want it, need it, like nothing else matters. Now, picture a vulva located where your heart should be. Imagine this phallus gliding in, ravaging it, filling you whole." It was working, their breathing quickened, their eyelids fluttered.

"Enter." I called, the doors opened and in came my Besotted, unclothed. Their discomfort was obvious. I had them partake of the concoction also and now they each sported painful erections. They would do anything for relief, and I would grant it them. "What is this, Your Reverence?" Chedipe asked, watching as we were surrounded.

I hissed as I felt mother in my head, goading me on, "Simple, my sisters, we are partaking of an orgy, now do you duty and relieve these poor tortured men."

Under the influence, the orgy was a furious one. For hours it went on, with my own holes pummelled I watched as my sisters were hammered without mercy, watching their shrieks and moans was a thing of beauty. By the end of it, they were all on the floor, spent, I wondered if any of my Besotted's hearts had given out under the strain. There was only one with enough energy to keep at it, and he had me over the altar, tugging my hair and stuffing my rectum. As he did so, Chedipe, groaned and stirred, "This was dangerous holy one, what was the purpose of it?"

"Purpose?" I gasped as I felt the Besotted flood me and fall to rest against the wall. "You are all afflicted with pride, sisters. High ranking priestesses that enjoy the attentions of the wealthy. I intend to break you all down and make you comprehend your true selves, even if it means breaking you. Enter!"

The door opened, and the next group of afflicted Besotted entered. I felt mother's laugh within me.

******

Every night for weeks I repeated this. I grew to know my handmaidens intimately, and developed them to my liking. Siris struggled with her gag reflex, so I had her exclusively sucking cocks for a long time, Yrisi was too slow and boring in her lovemaking, so I had my men show her how it is done, Chedipe had an aversion to anal, so I ensured she took it in the ass several times each night. In time, their complaints changed to dull acceptance, then a new light began to enter their eyes. They started to laugh wickedly, offer themselves eagerly, and speak with a crudeness common to those without shame. They would cheer and encourage one another, embrace and kiss as they were showered with semen. All grew to love their new found carnality, and were now mindlessly loyal to me. They began to paint or tattoo phallic markings upon themselves, where that of their gods had been. I myself started to bear such a marking on my navel and on the left cheek of my rear.

Their attitudes began to spread throughout the temple also, like an infection. A new and more fervent form of religious ecstasy gripped the temple, over the next few years it would spread to the city, and in time it went out further still. I had new statues and decorations commissioned that placed a grotesque emphasis on the sexual organs in vile acts. Troubadours began to sing explicit tales openly as the forbidden became the norm, once distasteful art pieces depicting blatantly pornographic images were now hailed as masterpieces.

It were as though I had brought a fever upon the populace, the world would be gripped in vice as such would not be seen again until the rise of the cities of Sodom.

6. Avatar

"Why was she called Na'amah? Because she beat on a drum to draw people to idol worship."

-Bereishit Rabbah

It was, I believe, the growing unrest that allowed my religion of the phallus explode in popularity as it did. With the increasing famine, violence and tyranny more and more lost their faith in the gods and sought to lose themselves in the ecstatic rites I offered. Over the next century or so I found myself rarely sleeping. With the aid of my priestesses I penned a new holy text, referred to by worshippers as the 'Yonian Excesses' (a rough translation), which became distributed far and wide, people from around the world came to pay tribute.

At night I would speak to the gathered masses, dance and sing, then I would spend time at the mirror, learning from mother, I would then see to the more mundane tasks being high priestess demanded by snatching what little slumber I could. By day I was in the temple, upon a golden altar beneath the enormous statue of the divine phallus I took man after man into me, permitting myself no rest, spurred by the will of the lower spheres. From sunrise to sunset em and my followers engaged in harlotry. The temple was a far cry from the holy place it had been, now it was but an overly lavish brothel, and we holy sisters crude prostitutes who were strangers to dignity, and we were loved for it.

Of course with this rise there was no hiding my infidelities from my husband. As I grew more blatant in my sexual activities he became more distant, seeing me less and less. Eventually he gained the courage to confront me, leading to an argument that had him storming out of the temple, I had not seen him since, but knew he was aiding my father in the defence of the city.

I was on the altar, seeing to two devotees with such vigour I heard not the clinking of black armour. Only when they finished with me and no more came did I realise I had a guest. I looked up from my spread position and saw three men in the armour of father's personal guard, the one n the centre held a plumed helm under one arm to show himself. My Besotted drew closer, ever ready just in case. I felt that persistent ache that had only grown as I took in the handsome man before me. I became self-aware, realising what a mess I must look, how I must reek of my devotees. Wishing I had bathed, I kept my sex on display, hoping against hope, pulse racing, as he regarded me with dark eyes.

But I was to be disappointed, "I would speak with you mother." Ashmedai offered a gauntleted hand.

Swallowing dryly, I rose and took his hand. We made our way to the temple gardens where only the priestesses and those permitted by me could enter. The day was warm and bright, the trees and flowers in full bloom. The sound of the trickling artificial stream lent an air of calm. The outside stung my eyes at first, I had not seen daylight for some time. We walked and chatted about inconsequential matters for a bit. I allowed my body to react to him naturally. Over time, as Ashmedai came of age, I felt my maternal feelings twist and churn into a new emotion, one I had thought myself no longer capable of. Fitting that it would be toward someone so taboo for myself. Still I found myself leaning close to him, pushing my chest out and laughing flirtatiously.