Read your Contracts 02.2

"Okay..." Laura stepped back and folded her arms in thought. "You said that you would do anything for him; what if he asked you to fuck someone else?"

"I would do it gladly. Having sex by the order of my master is morally equivalent to having sex with him. Even if I didn't like it, I lost any right to complain when I made that ill-advised promise."

"He wouldn't see it that way."

Memi sighed and shook her head condescendingly. "Humans have a passing acquaintance with morality anyway. His compassion and sense of justice shouldn't have allowed him to deny me that day."

"What are you talking about? It's because he's a kind guy that he did. I think most guys would feel uncomfortable in that situation, like they were receiving a human sacrifice."

"I would have accepted an order to cuddle without complaint. Even an order to remain quiet for him to continue his work in peace." Shame and anger were coming to the surface despite Memi's effort to keep them drowned. "Harry hasn't given me a single order since we signed ourselves to each other. Am I that useless?"

Laura massaged Memi's shoulders to try calming her. It worked well enough that Memi stopped her progression toward blubbering. She said, "Hun, you remember what happened with my father? How you tricked him into an ass fucking?" She waited for Memi to nod. "Tell me, how would you feel if someone tricked your father like that?"

Memi snorted. "My father would never have fallen for so rudimentary a trick. All that was needed to entrap yours was the promise of anal sex without mention of the recipient. If my father fell for that, he would be rightfully ridiculed until he somehow regained his honor."

"I see, and you said something about that person, 'Satilli'?"

"Mother sent him as a test of my master's prudence and fidelity. He passed, barely, by leaving that day without sucking a cock." Memi thought back to how Harry spoke about the event, that Memi hadn't considered his feelings in sending him off with an incubus. "I failed that same test, it seems..."

"Prudence seems to be a sticking point with you. Aren't demons supposed to be kinda immoral?" Laura said, occupying herself boiling water for the spaghetti.

It was funny that a human thought she knew more about morality than a denizen off hell, but Memi stifled her laughter. "Virtue is of the utmost importance when dealing with devils. When drafting a contract, one must consider both justice and prudence; a failure to see through a basic trick is seen not as a failure of justice, but imprudence. The devil who is tricked is the one at fault."

"You're all trying to screw each other all the time?"

"Not at all. Welshing on a contract is infidelity, dishonesty. One's most trusted friends would shun them if they found out and further contracts would be impossible to forge. It is simply implied that each party is trying to attain their greatest benefit, so even a trick like that between erstwhile friends would not engender animosity."

"So, all that stuff about the witch who tricked you?"

Memi held the spoon with white-knuckled grip. "Foul temper is hardly virtuous, but my fidelity to that contract is unassailable." She loosened her grip and remembered something her mother once said to console her. "In fact, the guile I displayed in retaining my virginity all through those summonings increased my social cache somewhat."

Laura nodded as though she understood it all. "What is it even like down there? I can't imagine a real society working that way."

"It works quite well, for those with power. But as much as lower demons are abused, slavery makes it a little easier." Memi said, focused on keeping the sauce from burning.

"Say that again."

Realizing the confusion, Memi giggled. "Humans are so touchy about slavery these days. There are benefits you don't understand. Life is much harder for an imp with no master to speak in their defense."

"What?"

"It's Hell, what did you expect? A free imp can be abused, killed even, by anyone stronger. You could abuse a free imp. But hurt an imp with a master and you have damaged someone else's property. No master would suffer such an insult quietly, unless they didn't care or they were scared of retaliation."

Laura's eyes darted around, making sure none of the other students were listening to them.

Memi continued, "Why, my relationship with my mother could be likened to master and servant. My life down there was relatively pleasant under her thumb. But she couldn't protect me from everything..."

---

Sitting across from Memi in the carriage, her mother fussed with parchment detailing her current job. Fyellene was a vision of beauty, even to her own daughter's eye, dark hair neatly trimmed over the shoulder, her flawless, toned skin. Her breath raised luscious handfuls of soft breast in steady rhythm, provoking Memi's envy. The heat down in this lower circle raised beads of sweat, but neither demoness dared complain while their chauffeur was in earshot; secrets flowed from an imp's ear to its mouth without delay.

"Memirellin, calm yourself." Fyellene ordered without looking up from her reading.

Memi had to consciously keep her leg from bouncing. "My apologies, master." she said.

"I was nervous on my first field trip as well, but this is an important client. If you cannot restrain yourself, you should fly away now before your conduct embarrass me."

"Yes, master." Memi stared out the window to distract herself, noting the legion of devils working the estate.

Long-fingered devils raked the soil to plant whatever could actually grow there while whip-wielding masters watched over them. They were rather well behaved as the sound of whips cracking was significantly less frequent than it had been while passing by other estates on the way there. A few imps flitted here and there impishly as was their wont, but rarely were they smacked down. There was the distant barking of hellhounds, promising swift pursuit on those who bore their master's displeasure.

Memirellin feared asking for one of her own.

"Master, what is produced here?" Memi asked.

"Animal feed and some other herbs." Fyellene touched what counted as clothing to her, essentially elaborately-tied, black string. "The dye that produces this shade is grown here."

"I see." Memi said. She wore essentially the same thing, had done since her training as a succubus began, and missed clothing that didn't feel like it would fall off with one careless move. Her closet was stuffed with bandeaus and shorts she could only wear on the weeks her father had her.

Fyellene finally put down the contract and stretched. "Boring, I know, but the art of growing anything down in this environment is imperative. Agriculture is more important in a material way than our work."

Of course it was, one fed people and the other fucked them. It wasn't hard for Memirellin to see which was the more important of the two. Though she preferred the more glamorous work of her father, torturing souls in the desert of fiery rain. That their work paid significantly more for their time was a frequent source of humor in Fyellene's home.

Beside the fields, their carriage stopped at the iron doors of the customer's manor, carved into the black rock of a massive stalagmite. At the customer's request, mother and daughter donned full-body coverings to avoid giving a free show to the farmhands on their way inside.

A servant met them at the carriage door, lending his red-scaled arm for balance. He was rather common-looking, red, tall, and toned beneath his monkey suit. Though his tusked, heavy-browed face was none too pleasant. Well enough for a house servant.

Fyellene removed her cover on the first step inside, tossing it aside like garbage. Memirellin followed her mother's example, hiding how uncomfortable she felt to be so scantily clad in the presence of strangers.

Without a word, the servant led the two deep inside to the master bedroom, leaving them to wait in lamplight.

Polished stone shimmered through gaps in the red curtains and art that lined the walls. Thankfully, this underground space managed to be cozy despite its size, clearly able to accommodate eight or nine persons standing fingertip to fingertip. The bed was furnished with black furs and large enough to hold those same nine people, likely had done.

Through haughty laughter, Fyellene approached and petted the bedspread. "Bearskin. I wonder how he managed to acquire so many." she said.

Memirellin, unsure where she should stand, backed up against the wall where she would be out of the way.

Fyellene did not let her stay there, taking her daughter by the naked shoulder and leading her to the bedside, pushed her onto her knees. "Girl," she said, "I will expect a detailed account of my techniques on the trip home. If you do not understand all that happens here, you will learn with your body through Meliza's attentions."

"Yes, master." Memirellin felt a shiver up her spine, imagining the other apprentice's thick rod.

Waiting for the client, Fyellene stripped and took a seductive position on the bearskin. She hid her loins with a creamy thigh and laid on her breasts to tantalize if only for a moment. The client would enter to an expanse of luscious flesh and a comely smile, an invitation. Memirellin could not completely push aside her discomfort in her mother's nudity, in which the woman found no end of humor.

"Girl, the red shows far too well on your pallid scales. Just like your father, the beast of a man could hardly bear my touch. You remind me of his timidity." She reached out to stroke Memirellin's burning cheek and laughed when her daughter flinched. "Enjoy that feeling. Soon enough, you will be too experienced to know embarrassment or disgust."

"Yes, master." Memirellin said. The thought of her future under the succubus' instruction churned her stomach.

After a requisite waiting period for the client to establish his dominance, he arrived. He barely fit through his door, though it had been carved from the rock at his request, likely meant to accentuate his bulk. Curling ram horns required him to turn himself to avoid scraping the doorway and cloven feet tapped on the stone floor through the carpeting. Golden, slit eyes leered across Fyellene's body, drinking in her lovely curves, then rested where Memirellin knelt.

He might have ripped his loincloth free and descended onto Fyellene, but the demon had enough sense to extend a hand in greeting.

Fyellene said, "My lord Cardin, how shall I please you today?"

The demon, Cardin, approached her and took her arm, throwing her onto her back, fully exposed and vulnerable. Though Fyellene's eyes were fearful, her daughter knew this was only an act. This was a necessary dance, giving the client his sense of conquest no matter how out of his league he was.

Cardin growled, the corner of his lip curling into a grin on his red-scaled face. "Who is this temptress you have brought into my home?"

The imitation of fear disappeared from Fyellene's face and she curled herself back into a seated position despite the larger demon's grip. "My apprentice is here to observe our activities. A big, strong man like yourself surely is not fearful of being watched."

He laughed, drawing a lock of Fyellene's dark hair between clawed fingers. "That sounds like a challenge. Shall we amend our agreement to include the girl? I want to feel those pretty, slender legs around my waist, if they would fit."

"Her maidenhood is yet intact. It will not be sold until her skill is enough to do it justice. Memi shall watch. Now, don't you want to have your way with me?" Fyellene hung herself off Cardin's arm, pressed her tits to his broad chest. "Aren't I enough for you, big guy?" She stroked the black fur of his thigh, letting the back of her hand caress his loins.

"You would be compensated." He curled his fingers around Fyellene's throat, claws dragging at her flawless skin. "Perhaps I will take her and supply you with one of my own daughters to repay the damages."

It was an act, but Memirellin had to quell fearful shivers. Mother would never take such a deal, not while Memirellin still had the value of legacy. And Cardin wouldn't rough her up in any way they hadn't already discussed for the immense damage his reputation would sustain. But Fyellene was also acting, wearing the face of a damsel and appealing to the man's sense of mercy.

And once it was clear to all involved that Memirellin's participation was off the table, he released Fyellene, who coughed and rubbed her throat to sell the illusion that she had been in actual danger.

"You want her to watch?" he said. "The girl will hardly see from where she sits. Girl, lie beside us and watch with care."

Memirellin looked to her mother for confirmation, hoping she would be instructed to remain where she was. No, Fyellene gestured for her to join them on the bed.

Cardin stopped her before she could crawl over. "No woman wears a stitch in my bed. Strip. If I am not to have you, I will see what I am missing."

The whole exchange had tested Fyellene's patience and she ripped out a structurally necessary knot, taking the rest of Memirellin's scant clothing with it, and tossed it aside. She then pushed her daughter to the side and similarly undressed the client, tearing away the loincloth and burying her face in furry thigh, cock angrily growing against her cheek.

"Please," Fyellene said with a long, lingering kiss to his hot, pulsating member. "I have been thinking about your dick for days now. Don't make me wait much longer to leer at my daughter. I need you."

His cock throbbed against her face, rubbing against her with its demonic spikes and ridges. Cardin bit his lip with sharp teeth, ready to dive in and devour her. Gentile nature gone, he caught a hunk of Fyellene's dark hair and pulled her deep into his lap, thrusting the foot-long cock straight into her waiting throat where it bulged uncomfortably.

Memirellin watched as the demon held her mother's head in place, cutting off her breath. Fyellene's eyes watered, rolled back as she shifted in the little room she had to gain any small measure of comfort. Cardin moaned above them both, softly laughing at the pitiful sight, beady eyes searching Memirellin for an opening.

She didn't dare cover her hardening nipples as his gaze passed over them. She could only watch her mother choking on cock and do her best to ignore him. It would be an insult to cover herself when she was the one being treated to this lesson, a rudeness that she would have to repay, perhaps with her own throat. Mother handled it well, lolling tongue lapping at furry nuts even while knobbly cock violated her mouth.

Cardin eventually let Fyellene go and she pulled off his cock, coughing up bubbly spit and gasping. But before she could get her second wind, he pulled her back on, brutally thrusting again into the back of her throat. His pounding slapped furry nuts against Fyellene's wet chin and he settled into a rhythm, poking himself deeply into her warm throat and pulling out while she sucked, lips dragged along his knobbly, red cock. The sense of power he achieved with a beautiful woman degrading herself, full lips pressed against his crotch, evoked growls of pleasure with each stroke. But his attention never left Memirellin's body, and she knew that he truly wanted to ravish her tight throat instead.

Wetness dribbled from Fyellene's lips, across her chin and down her bulging throat. She rubbed one bouncing tit, fingertips spinning her nipple like a toy, and occupied her other hand with her smooth, warm pussy. Her whole attention lay on the cock in her mouth, how its ridges and firm spikes rubbed against her tongue on their way to tickle her throat, how the pointed tip leaked delicious precum that she wished she could have lapped up by itself but just flowed down into her belly. She would notice that her client was looking at her daughter instead of her, and who would blame him for preferring Memirellin's lithe form, her strawberry-pink nipples, the hint of her tight, unused maidenhood peeking from behind her folded legs.

Catching her breath, Fyellene went on the offensive. She swatted away Cardin's hand and took herself two handfuls of hairy ass, pulling herself onto his cock faster than he was prepared for, begging with her eyes for his cum to shoot down her throat. She sucked harder, faster, sloppier, the smack of spit and flesh rebounding through the room. Her tail lashed through the air, joyously whapping against the bedspread. Cardin moaned above her, his own restraint no match for the lusty demon beneath him.

And when he could not hold back any longer, Cardin tore Fyellene from his groin, cock twitching in pre-orgasmic bliss while the succubus cowered before him.

"You think I can be satisfied by such paltry efforts?" he said despite the evidence that he would have blown his load with another second in her mouth. This too was an act. "Present yourself. I may yet be."

Fyellene played her part and meekly bent to all fours, ass raised for his inspection. The smell of her lust hit Memirellin in the face less than a step away and the girl struggled to keep her face straight while her pointy ears burned with embarrassment. The lovely, plump ass wiggling in Memirellin's face, the delicate lips displayed for all to see, almost made her look away rather than face the shame of enjoying the sight.

"A sow's rump. Disgraceful." Cardin spat on Fyellene's back. "Wagging your tail like a breeding slut. Shameless whore." He playfully took Fyellene's tail and coiled it around his forearm like a pig's tail.

"Please, sir," Fyellene whimpered. "I need your cock. I want it so~ bad." She rested her shoulders on the bed and reached back to spread herself, giving Memirellin and the client a close look at her wet, pink pussy.

"Silence!" He barked, bringing the back of his hand across Fyellene's ass with a sharp crack. "What you need is of no consequence."

Whimpering underneath the great, red demon, Fyellene continued shaking her ass and her tail tightened around his arm. It was barely an act now, her baser needs overpowering professionalism. It was clear to Memirellin by the narrowing of her mother's eyes, how her long tongue wetted her plump lips, that she truly desired to be impaled by that hot, thorny cock. And Cardin, whether he knew or not, wouldn't give it to her so easily.

He plunged two thick, clawed fingers into her sopping cunt and she moaned beneath him. Strength left her arms, leaving her on her cheek and heaving breasts with her ass hung in the air for him to do as he pleased. With no concern for her comfort, Cardin rammed his fingers inside down to the knuckle, laughing at Fyellene's pained gasps and moans, breaths cut off with each repeated thrust. And shown only to Memirellin, her mother's sharp, clenched teeth and ruddy cheeks.

Despite herself, Memirellin wriggled slightly where she lay. She purposely wound her tail around her thigh to hide its aroused waggling, hoping Cardin would be too busy ravaging her mother's cunt to see. But her mother clearly noticed, smile creeping from behind her arousal.

His assault finished after a number of false stops, teasing Fyellene with the end of her torment. Cardin removed his fingers, Fyellene's wetness dripping down his arm, and took two handfuls of soft ass, bulging between his fingers with the force of his grip.

"Your apprentice," he said, "Is not being honest. Tell her to quit hiding her tail."

Memirellin swallowed hard but managed to keep the fear from her face. Mother would get her out of it somehow, right? Signs of arousal would be taken as consent, wouldn't they? Especially for a lesser being like her, what consent mattered except that of her master? She did not unfurl her tail, looking to Fyellene as her master for her orders.