Succubus Summoning 211

* * * *

Phil heard L'mactia's words. He felt the sticky clutch of her web beneath him. His response was immediate.

"Immolatum nida Flambastinaai!"

. . . and nothing happened.

He didn't feel that sense of opening up inside or the joyous rush of sentient flame pouring out into him. Instead the energies were drawn from his body and dissipated out across the web.

L'mactia giggled.

"It won't work," she said. "We took the time to prepare your room for our visit. It's so annoying when the prey summons other daemons to disrupt the fun!"

Phil looked around and as his eyes accustomed to the gloom he saw the whole room was festooned in thick cobweb. His bedroom had been converted into something resembling the silk-lined lair of trapdoor spider. And he'd blundered right into it like a stupid cricket.

"Verdé!" he called out.

He hoped she hadn't yet walked out of earshot. Not that it mattered. He saw an odd glow on the walls and recognised it as a globe of silence. Succubi and similar daemons used it when they didn't want any interruptions while playing with their prey. No sounds would leave this room.

Phil heard movement—stealthy scuttles—and realised L'mactia hadn't been referring to arachnes in general when she said we. She'd brought friends.

There were two other arachnes in the room with them. One had long flowing red hair; the other had a silky white bob. Both had the same bulbous black abdomens of orb web spiders as L'mactia. The spider daemon with white hair skittered across the ceiling above Phil. The redhead made a circuit of the walls. They trailed glistening strands of silk from their abdomens. When the strands met they flashed blue and then faded back down to a residual ethereal glow. It looked like a circuit had been completed.

"It's done," the redhead said.

"They won't sense we're here, but they might spot his absence and suspect something is wrong," the white-haired spider daemon said. "You'll need to be quick, L'mactia."

L'mactia rose up at the end of Phil's bed. The shadowy gloom was a better fit for her gothic beauty. She was naked and her pale skin was almost luminescent in the darkness. Her rising up between his legs, large curvy breasts bared, would have been a highly erotic image to Phil had he not known what was below her waist. Her eyes—and this included the additional red orbs clustered around her temples—looked down on him with unnatural longing. Her long jointed foreleg reached over, flicked aside Phil's robes and exposed his crotch.

"You shouldn't have spared me," she said.

"I'm aware of that now," Phil said.

The Scrote had warned him warlocks needed to be merciless otherwise their opponents would return to fight again. He knew it and yet he hadn't been able to do it. This was all his fault. He had no excuses. He knew how this world worked, and yet he'd been too chicken to make the correct decision. There was no one else to blame for this sorry development but him.

"I'm an idiot and weak," Phil said.

He tested the strength of the web beneath him. His arms remained stuck fast to the sticky silk.

"Mercy is a rare quality in our world," L'mactia said. "My kind have little use or understanding of it. Our weakness." She gently stroked his side.

From Phil's perspective it didn't seem like much of a weakness. He was the one stuck in the web, about to be eaten . . . or worse.

L'mactia held out her hands and motioned to the other two spider daemons. "These are my sisters—L'katipia . . . " She turned to the white-haired arachne. ". . . and L'hassia." She waved towards the red-haired arachne.

L'hassia came down from the wall and walked towards Phil. Like L'mactia she was naked from the waist up and her skin was ghostly pale. Her face looked younger than L'mactia's and she seemed more impish, mischievous. Her most striking features were her hair and lips. Her hair flowed down from her shoulders like strands of glittering molten lava. It was long enough to cover her exposed breasts. Her lips drew Phil's eye. Not only were they plump and sensual, they were an extravagant red in colour and glistened moistly.

"So this is the powerful warlock. He doesn't look very impressive." Phil looked up. L'katipia, the arachne with white hair, had descended down from the ceiling on a silvery thread spooled from the tip of her bulbous black abdomen. Her most striking feature was her chest. Her boobs were big, spherical and topped with candy-pink areole. Her arms were folded beneath them as she regarded Phil with haughty scepticism.

"Looks can be deceiving," L'hassia said.

The web trembled beneath Phil as L'hassia climbed on. Her face appeared in front of him, framed by waves of flame-coloured hair. She stared at him with bright interest. Phil's focus was again drawn to her lips—glossy, sensual and ever so kissable.

L'hassia turned back to L'mactia. "Can I?" she asked.

L'mactia nodded. "But not too much."

L'hassia turned back to Phil. She leaned closer. "Mmm, I'm going to snog your face right off," she breathed.

Her luscious red lips plumped up as she pouted them in preparation for a kiss. Phil couldn't look anywhere else. His gaze was fixed and gaffed like a caught fish. Those red lips, wet with a glistening sheen, drew closer and closer and Phil's heart quickened in his chest. L'hassia loosely wound her arms around him and pressed her lips against his. He felt their moistness, felt that moistness seep through his skin and trigger a burst of pleasure. He felt his blood surge to meet her. She held him there in a long, lazy kiss that took his breath away.

Literally.

He felt her chest swell up against him as she inhaled. He felt a strange sensation in his throat. It felt like he was regurgitating, but with none of the negative sensations. This felt pleasant. And natural. The feeling of bliss was comparable to the sensations of orgasm when expelling semen from the body.

This wasn't semen. This was his energy. She was literally taking his breath away.

Realising what was happening, he struggled and tried to break off the kiss. L'hassia responded by holding him tighter and sucking harder.

She could empty her prey like this, Phil realised with horror. They would drown in the pleasures of her kiss while she drew all the energy from their body until nothing was left but an empty husk.

L'hassia ended the kiss long before then. She leant back and smacked her lips together.

"Ooo, our sister is right. There's definitely more to this one. You should taste him, sister," she said to L'katipia.

"I'd rather suck from here," L'katipia said.

She sent down a long leg and hooked it underneath Phil. The tip gently prodded against his anus, sending warm shivers tickling through his body.

"This one is mine," L'mactia said.

The web swayed as she climbed up and stood astride Phil with her many jointed legs. The other two arachne deferred to her and retreated to the edges of the room.

"Mmm, I still remember the taste of your semen inside me," L'mactia said. "My silks will feel so pleasant against your skin."

Her big black abdomen throbbed and pulsed in a way Phil knew was loathsome, but still caused a thrill of anticipation to run through him. Lewd organic squishy sounds emanated from within.

Phil struggled harder against the web. No use. He was stuck just as firmly as any fly with the misfortune to fly into a spider's web. He tried shouting out various spells—dismissals, fireballs—to no avail. The energies were drawn from him and dissipated across the web before they could manifest.

L'mactia stood over him and laughed. "Why fight so hard?"

"Um, because you're going to kill me," Phil replied.

L'mactia shook her head. "I have other plans for you."

She reared up and exposed the spinneret at the end of her abdomen. There was a lewd, burbling sound and gooey silk sprayed out of the tip in a thick, billowing wave. She didn't form it into threads this time. Instead it rolled out in soft flowing clouds that enveloped Phil. She gave a loud sigh as if in the grip of orgiastic release and squirted more and more until Phil was lying on a thick fluffy layer softer than any mattress.

She moved over his body, directed her spinneret and squirted until most of Phil's body was buried beneath fluffed-up clouds of silk. The only parts of his body left uncovered were his face and groin. He felt luxurious softness all around him and while he wasn't bound as such, the touch of the silk had a strange effect on him. He felt unnaturally relaxed. It was hard to concentrate, his limbs were floppy and unresponsive, and his loins pulsed with urgent need. Within the cocoon of soft silks L'mactia had spun around him, Phil was as immobile as if she'd tied him up with steel ropes.

"That's better," L'mactia said. "I want you nice and comfortable."

So she could take her time and leisurely drain him, Phil thought. He could do nothing. His cock had turned traitor and stuck up from his cocooned body like a flagpole. She moved up over him, lowered the tip of her abdomen and drew his erection up inside her. Her big black abdomen pulsed and Phil's erection was enveloped in a warm gooey mass of molten silk. She rolled it up and down his shaft, stroking his arousal higher and higher until he was thrumming like a tightened piano wire. Her abdomen pulsed again and she puffed the sticky hoop of silk down his shaft until if formed a pillow around the root. Then she released Phil's cock.

This surprised him.

"I didn't come here for revenge," L'mactia said. "That's the weakness of your kind. We see it again and again when one of you summons one of us to settle one trifling dispute or another. It seems wasteful to us, but as it gives us a constant supply of souls to feast upon we say nothing."

L'mactia backed down Phil's body until her face was level with us. She was different. On the previous occasions he'd encountered her she'd been icy cool. Professional. Now he sensed a trembling anticipation about her, as if strong emotions were bubbling away beneath the surface and she was struggling to keep them in check.

"I came here because I want to mate with you," L'mactia said. Two chitinous plates slid aside and revealed the over-plump labia of her pussy.

That really surprised him.

"When it's time, we seek out a strong male to father our offspring. You bested me in combat. Your seed will give me many strong daughters."

Her segmented legs went through the pillows of silk and hugged him to her. Her plush labia gaped open. She was about to engulf his member when she paused.

"Mutual consent is important to your kind. It's different for us. We rarely care if our partners are willing or not. I don't think this would be fair for you, not after you showed me mercy earlier. Will you—"

She didn't get a chance to finish her request.

"L'mactia!" L'hassia said.

"Don't you dare ask this human for permission," L'katipia said. "Not after the risks we've taken for you."

"It's not our way," L'hassia said.

"If you accept this human's refusal I'll eat your husk myself," L'katipia said.

L'mactia nodded and turned back to Phil with a sad expression on her face. "They're right. It's not our way. Please understand."

Her fleshy labia engulfed the head of his cock and she slowly slid down his shaft. He was drawn up into a warm muscular tunnel as her legs wrapped tighter around him. She sank down on him until the entrance to her vagina met the sticky pillow of silk she'd deposited around the root of his cock and their sexes were glued together. She let out a low sigh of pleasure.

There was none of the thrusting back and forth typical of most sex. L'mactia was content to lie on top of him with his full length all the way inside her to the root. She hugged him tight to her body and her voluptuous breasts pressed into the silk cocoon wrapped around his chest.

"Sex with an arachne is different." L'mactia's voice was a husky whisper in his ear.

Bands of muscle within her vaginal walls contracted and gripped Phil's erection.

"Our partners usually aren't able to move."

Phil felt her vagina move around him, gently tugging on his cock.

"So our bodies use other means to generate erotic friction."

Her bloated abdomen slowly pulsed. The flesh of her vagina squeezed up around his cock and tugged up and down in muscular waves. Even though Phil was bound and couldn't move, it felt as though he was plunging back and forth in her tight pussy.

"Relax," L'mactia sighed. "I'll do the work. I'll pump that cum out of you."

Her black abdomen throbbed. Inside it felt as though a soft hoop of flesh was stroking up and down his cock. Up. Down. Stroking until his arousal grew and grew and became irresistible.

"The first is always fast," L'mactia whispered. "Don't fight it."

Phil didn't think he could even if he wanted to. The muscular hoops within her pussy stroked him right to the brink. Sensing he was on the verge, she tightened her pussy and squeezed his cock. She drew him deeper within her until the swollen head of his penis passed through a tight orifice ringed with squishy flesh. Her abdomen swelled as if inhaling.

Phil came. He wasn't sure if it was his body firing semen into her or her body sucking it out of him. It felt incredible either way.

L'mactia sighed in pleasure.

"Ooo yes." She pressed her body tight to him.

Her abdomen slowly throbbed and Phil's ejaculation became a continuous stream. She was definitely pumping it out of him.

"I need more seed than humans usually produce during sex," L'mactia said, "but I won't take enough to harm you. I owe you that."

She pressed her moist red lips against his in a kiss. Phil drowned in sensual overload and the world went dark.

* * * *

Phil was woken the next morning by the succubi opening the door to the bedroom. He was still cocooned in fluffy clouds of silk, but at least he was alive and in possession of most of his bodily fluids.

"It looks like our Master had some visitors," Verdé said as she looked around at the cobweb-festooned room.

"Those damn sneaky spiders," Rosa said. "This is our territory."

"Um, can someone help me?" Phil asked. "A little stuck here."

"Ooo, come and feel how soft this pillow silk is," she said. "You must have really turned her on," she said to Phil.

"I thought she'd come back to kill me," Phil said.

"Nah," Verdé said. "Arachnes aren't like that. They don't hold grudges or kill for personal reasons. They leave that to the petty humans who summon them to settle petty disputes."

She got on the bed and lay alongside Phil on the fluffy silk. She stretched out and crossed her arms behind her head.

"Hmm, really comfy," she said. "It's a rare honour for an arachne to choose you as a mate. They're notoriously picky."

"They don't seem as concerned that their mate chooses them back," Phil griped.

"Well, they're notorious for that too," Verdé said.

"Some skanky spiders get to fuck him and I don't," Rosa complained. "So unfair. When do I get a good fuck?"

"That'll be the next book," Cέrμləa said, although no-one paid attention to her.

"I still don't know if I made the right decision," Phil said.

"She's alive. You're alive. You've just spent a pleasant night together." She looked at Phil and her expression was positively filthy. "Don't tell me you didn't find it pleasurable."

Phil said nothing. His cheeks reddened.

"Denizens of the Dominion of Lust might be a little . . . forceful when it comes to matters of consent, but we always make sure our partners enjoy it."

"And don't forget the children," Cέrμləa said, bouncing up to sit on the end of the bed. "Master is going to be a father."

Oh. Yeah. That was the primary purpose of mating, Phil thought.

"See," Verdé said. "Not only did you have a night of hot sex, you got to sire some lovely daemon daughters as well."

"There is the small matter of what those children will do while growing up," Rosa said, an evil smile on her lips.

"Oh, that isn't important," Verdé said.

"Wait, what?" Phil said. "No, tell me."

He'd fathered them. He had some responsibility here.

It fell to Cέrμləa to explain. "Arachnes lay about a hundred or so eggs," she recited as if reading from a textbook. "These hatch into arachlings, which then need to look for a suitable host for their next phase of development. They first enter the prospective host's dreams and from there enter the host's head. Once inside they slowly consume the host's brain and attain adulthood once the host's mind has been fully digested."

Hundreds? Phil felt queasy.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Verdé said. "She might not even lay the eggs in your world."

That didn't make Phil feel any better.

"He's so cute," Rosa said. "It's adorable how he worries about people that don't even know or care he exists."

"You shouldn't torment yourself," Cέrμləa said. This time it was the old woman speaking out of the young girl's mouth. "With each choice there is some good and some bad. It's a rare decision that is purely one or the other. You showed mercy. The consequences of that might cause future hardships for you and others. It might also provide new allies. Most of the time you get both."

"She really likes you, you know. L'mactia," Verdé said.

"She does?"

"Arachnes usually eat their partners after mating," Rosa explained.

L'mactia hadn't eaten him. She'd left him alive for some reason. Before he could ask why, a ghostly hologram of The Scrote appeared in the room. As before he looked as though his projection was peering into an object Phil couldn't see.

"Ah there you are, boy," The Scrote said. "Having fun in the circle of lust again, I see."

He noticed the webbing surrounding Phil.

"Whoa, playing with arachnes?" he said. "You might want to be careful there, boy. Don't be trying to run before you can walk."

Phil wondered why no-one ever seemed to realise he never actually had a choice in these things.

"I'm pleased to see you're taking a hands-on approach to broadening your education. A good warlock always looks to stretch their horizons."

Phil thought of Chalk and the others.

"That hasn't worked out too well for some of the other students," he said.

"Fuck 'em," The Scrote said. "They shouldn't have come to Wargsnouts if they were that weak."

By now Phil was used to The Scrote's callous disregard for his students, but even that shocked him.

"You have to understand, boy," The Scrote said. "Warlockry isn't like the world you came from. No-one will mollycoddle you here. If you fail, you die. That's the real natural law that governs the world.

"Anyway, you're needed back at the college. Stupid bureaucracy. I need to give you apprentices a test to assess how well you're progressing. Nothing for you to worry about, you're already way ahead of the other dullards, but bureaucracy is bureaucracy. Give me the Blood Fields of Schrecx-Ghor any day."

With that, the projection of The Scrote winked out.

A surprise test, Phil thought. After the day and night he'd just been through it felt both surreal and irrelevant, like being asked to take a driving test after winning a Formula 1 Grand Prix.

"I really don't think that person is qualified to be a teacher," Verdé said.

"Come now, Verdé," Rosa said. "You heard what the greaseball said. We need to take Master back to the college for his test."

Rosa sounded awfully keen to take him back to Earth. He suspected she was thinking more about the 'yummy' students than getting him there in time for whatever exam The Scrote had planned.

The succubi headed for the door.

"Um." Phil tried to get their attention before they left. "I'm still stuck."

to be continued . . .