Succubus Summoning 206bymanyeyedhydra©
Rosa walked around Phil and examined him suspiciously.
"I thought the warlock was supposed to be toast. He looks a little lively for someone supposed to be toast."
Nurse Honey shrugged. "It seems he's a lot more resilient than we first thought."
Rosa's eyes narrowed as she looked at the succubus in the white latex nurse's outfit.
"And you had nothing to do with this? I know you. You don't like to let souls slip from your grasp. It wouldn't surprise me if you gave Verdé some help in the hope of slurping up the warlock later."
Nurse Honey smiled at Rosa's accusations. "I'm innocent," she said. "Whatever Verdé did, she did alone."
"Where is Verdé?" Phil asked. He was feeling a little too much like a hunk of meat on a shelf.
Rosa and Nurse Honey shared a glance.
"You don't like to hear about what we get up to with other humans," Rosa said.
"She isn't..." Phil started.
"She's meditating in her garden," Nurse Honey said. "She needs to replenish her magical energies."
"Yeah... uh... meditating," Rosa said in agreement. She closed her eyes and gave Phil a wide smile.
And that wasn't suspicious at all, Phil thought sardonically.
"I'll be accompanying you to college today in her place," Nurse Honey said.
They attracted a lot of attention on returning to Wargsnouts. Tall, buxom blondes in skintight latex fetishised nurse's outfits tended to do that. Nurse Honey had the kind of body that attracted attention. Rosa wasn't exactly subtle either. Her costume was best described as a pair of flame-red panties and a belt cinched around her equally considerable chest. Her thigh-length boots probably covered more flesh than the rest of her outfit combined. Phil walked between them in his ratty black robes. He had the hood pulled up, but it did little to hide the burning red embarrassment on his face.
He wasn't that surprised when Lutwidge pulled him aside for a quiet word.
"Mr Rowling, is it really necessary for your succubi to be dressed so..." Lutwidge's white whiskers bristled as he looked over Nurse Honey's glossy latex outfit. "...provocatively. It's distracting the other students."
Phil gave a helpless shrug. It wasn't exactly under his control. It was as much as he could do to even get them to let him wear these tatty old robes. Having a say in what the succubi chose to wear was beyond him.
"Oh leave him alone," The Scrote intervened. "Succubi are supposed to be provocatively attired."
He leered at Rosa and Nurse Honey.
"It adds a little colour to these drab halls."
Lutwidge huffed and turned away.
Stine looked at Phil with a sly twinkle in his eye.
"Well, my boy," he said. "You seem to have an uncanny habit of showing up right after being pronounced dead. A useful knack for a warlock to have."
He patted Phil on the shoulder and moved off to the lower entrance to the lecture theatre.
"Can I make him go whuff?" Rosa asked after The Scrote's retreating back. "He looks like he'll go whuff nicely." Fires burned in her blue eyes.
"I don't think our warlock wants us to set fire to his teacher just yet," Nurse Honey said.
Phil nodded his head rapidly in agreement. As lapse as Wargsnouts appeared to be on student safety, he suspected torching a teacher warranted sterner measures than expulsion.
"Heard you were dead," Darvill said as Phil entered the antechamber before the main lecture theatre.
"I should change my name to Snake Plissken," Phil joked.
Momentary confusion in Darvill's eyes indicated he didn't get the reference. "Emma was walking around with a very satisfied expression on her face yesterday. Word on the grapevine was that she'd summoned a daemon to avenge her brother's death and that you'd been killed. Only rumour, of course, the school takes a dim view of warlocks summoning daemons to kill their fellow students."
"It was a close thing," Phil admitted with a grimace.
"Close isn't a word often used when a talented graduate warlock like Emmanuelle Brennan takes it upon herself to squash a novice."
"I got lucky," Phil said with a shrug.
"Lucky is also not a word often used."
Phil leaned in closer. "What am I going to do?" he asked. "When she finds out I'm still alive she's going to try again."
Darvill arched an eyebrow. "You haven't heard?" he asked.
"It's all over the school," the thin student who looked like a more angular version of Darvill, Dever, said.
Phil looked at the faces of the other students. What was all over the school? Why did he never hear anything about anything?
"Emma's dead," the big guy, Higgins, said. "Security detail found her body in the early hours of the morning."
"Real gruesome it was as well," Joey Chalk said with ghoulish relish. "They reckoned sumthink burst her open from the inside. They're still looking for the head."
Phil's eyes widened in alarm.
"They don't think I did it?" he asked.
That was all he needed—one of the more established warlock families at Wargsnouts out for his blood over the deaths of two of their own. His succubi were already dangerous enough without a powerful warlock family wanting him dead. College sucked. He should have stayed back at McRestaurant.
No, nothing was worse than flipping burgers at Mc-fucking-Restaurant.
The other students laughed at him.
"Emma Brennan was an honours graduate with a specialty in summoning shadow daemons. We're novices barely able to exert control over our own daemons. To someone like Emma Brennan a novice like you is bugpaste," Dever said. His gaze flicked over to linger on Nurse Honey.
"Your being alive might raise a few questions," Darvill said thoughtfully. He hadn't laughed with the others.
"I didn't do it," Phil said.
"Chill," Darvill said. "No one thinks you did. Emma had a vicious temper. She had multiple feuds going on at the same time. John even thought she might have had a hand in the death of one of his cousins."
"She kicked the wrong big dog in the nuts and it bit her head off," Chalk said.
"Let's just say you're at the back of a very long queue," Darvill said.
"Oh," Phil said.
"Looks like your good fortune continues," Darvill said. "Your problem seems to have gone away all on its own."
"I suppose so," Phil said.
He wandered away. In the last twenty-four hours he'd been raped and nearly drained dry by a giant spider, then mushed up and spat out of the pot of a giant carnivorous plant. That didn't sound too fortunate to him.
Although he was still alive, he supposed. John Brennan—and now his sister—couldn't say the same. So much for learning about daemons in a safe, controlled atmosphere.
* * * *
"Think he did it?" Chalk asked as they watched Rowling walk away with his two provocatively-dressed succubi on either side of him.
"Dude, if he had anything to do with Emma's death they should give him the Oscar every year up until he dies," Jack Stone said.
"Coincidence," Higgins said. "Emma or her daemon botched the attempt. Then someone else ganked her before she could try again. You know how she was. Half the college had good cause. Remember John telling us about how she collected enemies like most girls collected shoes."
"I also remembering John telling us to never get on her bad side as she was a vicious, vindictive, and above all, extremely thorough cow that would not stop until she'd fucked you up," Darvill said.
"We all make mistakes," Higgins shrugged. "Rowling got lucky."
"Ah yeah," Darvill said. "He's a very lucky boy is our Phil Rowling. Vanishes about the same time as Jake, yet comes back with a beautiful succubus on each arm. Jake's dead. John's dead. Now John's sister's dead as well. And still Phil Rowling keeps bumbling along. A lucky boy indeed."
"Think someone is looking out for him?" Higgins asked. "Someone higher up in the staff?"
"But he's outreach," Chalk said. "Just like us. Well all of us apart from Dever."
Gary Dever wasn't paying full attention. His gaze was fixed on the tall succubus in the white nurse's outfit. He wasn't sure what it was about her—the long silky blonde hair maybe, or her height, or the sumptuous curves of her tits and ass, or even the way the light glinted off the latex that fit her form so snugly it looked as though it had been painted on. Her other form, when her hair had been green and she'd worn diaphanous green robes, had also been hot, but this was something else. That other form shared the same super-sexiness as the other succubus, the one that sometimes had red hair and sometimes black hair. They were hot enough that no man would ever turn them down, even if they didn't quite conform to his favourite type. Above a certain level of attractiveness it didn't matter if a man was into big-titted black girls or petite little Asians, there were girls you just didn't say no to regardless of preferences. But if a girl was above that threshold and a man's type, then the appeal ran to more than naked lust, it crossed over into obsession, or even stalking territory.
Dever's type was tall, big-titted blonde girls.
"He wouldn't have known anyone at Wargsnouts," Chalk continued. "He didn't even know daemons or magic existed before he came here, how could he have got one of the upper levels of staff to look out for him."
"Maybe he's not aware of anyone looking out for him," Darvill said.
"Ah, you think...?" Higgins said.
"It's possible. Warlocks have secret babies just like everyone else. It wouldn't be the first, and won't be the last."
Darvill looked over to where Rowling stood hidden within his black robes, flanked on either side by a sex-bomb succubus.
"I think it might be interesting to keep a close eye on Phil Rowling. Possibly profitable too. What do you think, Gary?"
Dever was still staring at the succubus in the white nurse's outfit. Only she didn't look that much like a succubus with her horns, wings and tail hidden.
"I want her," he said.
Dever was very much into big-chested blonde girls. And latex too, apparently, although he hadn't known that until he'd seen the way the glossy material clung to her curves. He had the sudden desire to run his hand over her latex-covered boob and down her side to the appealing curves of her ass. He imagined it to be frictionless, totally smooth.
He wanted to be Phil right then. Or rather not be him but to have what he had. He wanted to be the one with the gorgeous, statuesque blonde girl in the pervy nurse's outfit standing next to him.
"She's a succubus," Darvill said, both surprised and amused. "They're the common prostitutes of hell. Once we graduate you'll have the knowledge to fill your bedroom full of them."
Darvill didn't understand, she was his type.
The succubus turned back and gave him a come-hither smile. She'd smiled at him—at him!—he was sure of it.
It was the nurse's outfit. When Dever had been younger he'd been bedridden for months with glandular fever. His family had hired a nurse to look after him—Nurse Bates. Dever was at an age when he'd started to notice the female body. Tall, blonde and busty, Nurse Bates had a body worth noticing. When she'd leant over him and placed a cool hand on his brow he'd fantasised about all kinds of illicit things he wanted her to do with him, and him with her.
It hadn't been possible, of course. He'd been only thirteen at the time. He'd had a thing for nurses ever since and Rowling's succubus was the epitome of all those fantasies.
Darvill didn't understand. He couldn't wait. He wanted her... now.
Wheels turned in Dever's head. A plan formulated.
* * * *
"As you will remember from earlier lectures, the first human to provide a reasonably accurate description of the topography of hell was the 13th century Italian poet, Dante Alighieri. In his Inferno he describes travelling through the various circles of hell with the spirit of the ancient Roman poet, Virgil, acting as his guide.
"We now believe that the entity Dante calls Virgil was in fact the daemon muse, Verghal, and that much of what is described in Inferno was revealed to Dante in his dreams and represents actual parts of the plane we refer to as hell. Of course Dante wasn't entirely accurate and his dream images were filtered through the strong Christian influences of his time.
"Hell does indeed consist of circles, but it is seven, each corresponding to a primal sin, rather than the nine Dante described in Inferno.
"Also, while Dante is correct in that the archdaemon Satan or Shaitan resides at the heart of the innermost circle, it is as ruler and Lord of all hell, not a prisoner. Not much is known of the Great Beast save he is rumoured to be one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, archdaemons in all the circles of hell. Few warlocks have managed to successfully summon the Great Beast. The last, Magister Thomas Farynor, was purported to have done so back in London, 1666, and we all know how that ended..."
Lutwidge droned on and on.
Nurse Honey looked on, her face aghast.
"I know, it's hilarious, isn't it," Rosa said, a broad smile on her face.
"Um, what is?" Phil sat between them and felt as though they were discussing a joke he didn't get. He supposed it was an improvement on the other lectures, where Verdé had instigated near-fatal anal sex with him and Nÿte had put on a most-definitely-fatal sex show with another student.
"We'll correct this when we get back to the castle," Nurse Honey said.
"Cέrμləa?" Rosa said.
Nurse Honey nodded.
"She'll like that," Rosa said. "It will keep her occupied while she waits for the constellations to align."
"Occupied with what?" Phil asked. He didn't know what they were talking about, but he knew it involved him and that worried him.
"Extra tuition," Rosa said. She put an arm around him and squeezed. "You're our warlock. We have to make sure you're learning the right things. It reflects badly on us if you end up looking like a dunce."
* * * *
Twice Dever looked back over his shoulder and saw the succubus in white latex looking down at him. It sent a thrill through him. He knew there was a connection between them
A connection? He chided himself for his naivety. She looked on him like a predator spotting a potentially interesting morsel of prey. He knew that, but fuck was it hard to keep in focus while looking up at her silky blonde hair and the glossy white latex stretched tight across her ample chest.
That part didn't matter. She was a succubus. He knew how she thought, but more importantly he knew how she could make him feel. It wouldn't be real, then neither were most forms of entertainment and that didn't stop them from being enjoyable experiences.
She glanced at him again at the end of the lecture—sidelong, over her shoulder, eyes glimmering with filthy desire.
A highly enjoyable experience, Dever thought, feeling his dick throb in his pants. Providing he took the correct precautions.
"You have the look of someone contemplating an extremely foolhardy course of action," Darvill said.
Dever stared up at the succubus with a kind of furious intensity in his eyes.
"You don't understand," he said.
"Oh I understand well enough," Darvill said. "Hot succubus. Supernatural sexual appeal. Sounds like she has a hand in your brain and is working your jaw like you're a glove puppet."
"It's something I have to experience."
"Don't," Darvill said, serious now. "You saw what the other one did to John."
"John was too cocky. We all knew that would be the end of him someday."
"And you planning to fuck the other succubi after seeing her friend fuck John into a withered husk is in no way cocky or really fucking stupid at all."
"No, it isn't," Dever said, his expression sly.
He leant over and whispered his plan in Darvill's ear. The other man's expression was at first doubtful, but as Dever whispered that doubt eroded away. At the end Darvill smiled and gave a salutary nod.
* * * *
Dever watched the succubus as she stood in the centre of the antechamber after the lecture had finished. Students and their daemons milled around her, rushing off to other classes and appointments. She turned back to look at him. There was nothing fleeting or demure about her glance this time. Her gaze met Dever's stare and she didn't look away. Illicit desires flickered like thunder at the heart of her cloudy white eyes. She held his gaze long enough that Rowling needed to call out from one of the exits to attract her attention. She turned and walked to her warlock. Dever followed.
"Where's Rosa?" the succubus in white asked.
"She went on ahead," Rowling answered.
"Always so impatient," the succubus tsked.
Dever followed them a few paces behind. He didn't cling to walls or hang back and peer around corners. That would be stupid and attract attention to him. He walked nonchalantly a few paces behind them, just another student going about his business, which happened to be in the same direction as their business.
And also afforded him an excellent view of the tight swell of her ass.
The succubus knew he was there and knew he was admiring her body. It didn't bother her, if anything she seemed to enjoy the attention and encouraged it with coquettish glances back over her shoulder. She carried herself with the authority and deportment of a real nurse, but those eyes betrayed her just as much as the shine of her fetishised costume.
Nurse Naughty, Dever thought as he walked behind them. An erection pressed against the front of his trousers.
"Where are we going?" Nurse Naughty asked Rowling.
"The level two summoning labs," he replied. "Mr Stine asked me to pick up a book for him."
"Sounds a dull errand," the succubus complained. "Do you mind if I take off for a short while?"
While her master wasn't looking she stole a glance over her shoulder at Dever. Her eyes let Dever know exactly what she intended doing during that 'short while'.
"It won't take too long," Rowling said, opening an old wooden door with various arcane symbols scorched into the surface. "We're already here, Verdé."
* * * *
"We'll organise some extra lessons with Cέrμləa for you," Rosa said to Phil as they walked down the stone corridors of Wargsnouts. Rosa had an arm around Phil's waist and was setting a fast pace. "I know she might not look it, but Cέrμləa's really clever... some of the time. She'll teach you some useful stuff."
"What kind of stuff?" Phil queried.
"Oh stuff," Rosa shrugged. "I said we should train you to be a better pet, but the others weren't so keen on that idea."
Phil glanced around.
"Hey, where did Nurse Honey go?"
Rosa stopped and looked around. "Oh," she said. She didn't seem that concerned or surprised. She shrugged. "She's probably off... meditating somewhere."
* * * *
Dever closed the door behind him and activated both the locking and 'in use' wards. They stood in a plain stone room, roughly cubic in dimensions. Tall, wax-encrusted candelabra stood at regular intervals along a circle drawn on the floor that encompassed most of the room. The only exit was the ornate wooden door they'd entered through and Dever had just locked it.
The succubus looked around. "I don't see any book," she said, her face creasing up with confusion.
"Actually," Rowling said. "I brought you here because there is a task for you to perform. I want you to engage in a sexual threesome with me and Gary here."
The succubus, Verdé, looked at first Dever and then Rowling. She laughed.
"Drop the disguise," she told Rowling.
Rowling flickered away and was replaced by a short, skinny thing. Glowing green eyes peered out through the eyeholes of a misshapen mask. Dever's mimijad occulax daemon.
"I take it you orchestrated this little scheme," Verdé said to Dever.
She'd seen through it, but too late. Dever had her where he wanted her.