Two black-robed figures stood in the candlelit darkness of a long abandoned crypt. The stone walls around them were crumbling and covered in knotted tendrils of ivy. Spider webs festooned the dusty corners of the room and beady eyes watched them from secret hiding places.
"Hurry up!" Bradley Higgins said. "He's coming."
Curses and loud crashing sounds came from somewhere near the entrance to the old cemetery. They got closer as a large figure barrelled through weed-choked aisles. Their pursuer was not far behind and the flickering candlelight would lead him straight to them.
"Be quiet!" Clive Figg retorted. He maintained absolute focus as he drew the last line of the pentagram with blood oozing from a cut in his forefinger. "We're nearly done."
He stood and examined his work. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Exactly as it was set out in the old pages. It needed to be for what they had planned.
The heavy footfalls were getting closer. They didn't have much time.
"The semen," he demanded of Bradley.
"Here," Bradley said, handing over a small glass tumbler covered in plastic wrap. "A virgin's, just like the pages asked for."
"It's yours, isn't it?" Clive asked.
"Uh... yeah," Bradley said, staring at the floor in blushing shame.
"That won't be a problem after tonight," Clive said.
He threw the white fluid into the centre of the pentagram. The heavy footfalls were right at the entrance to the vault now. There was a load metallic crash as the gate was thrown aside. Clive put the sounds out of his mind and concentrated on reciting the words from the ancient pages. He had to be exactly precise on this.
He finished the summoning just as heavy footfalls were thumping down the steps to the tomb they were hiding in. He didn't have to wait long for something to happen. As the echoes of the last word faded away the lines of the pentagram began to glow with a deep crimson light, as if flames were shining up from the very depths of hell itself. A puff of thick black smoke swirled upwards out of the dusty stone floor. It grew thicker and twirled as if in the grip of a languid whirlwind. A strange fragrance, sweet like exotic poison, tickled Clive's nostrils.
The smoke dissipated and revealed a tall, extraordinarily beautiful woman.
No, not a woman. She could never be mistaken for a woman.
Large black bat wings were folded behind her back. A miniature pair sprouted from the side of her head, just below a pair of jet-black horns. A sinuous black tail swished behind her like a hungry snake. Despite this, she was still sexier than any girl Clive had seen in real life. The proportions of her body were impossibly perfect. From an ample chest, with milky-white breasts straining to escape a baroque black basque, her body tapered down to a narrow wasp waist before swelling back out into the inviting curves of her hips. Her face was as perfect as a Russian model's and colder than the wastes of Siberia.
"I am the succubus Nÿte," the demon said in a voice that was low and seductive. "What is your desire?"
At that moment a squat thickset man wielding a baseball bat barrelled into the room with a barrage of curses.
Five minutes earlier.
I'm going to kill them, Doug Barker thought.
He gripped the handle of the baseball bat tighter as he stomped down the road.
I'm going to take this bat and ram it right where the sun doesn't shine, he thought.
How dare they do that to his pride and joy. How dare they!
He'd tagged them for punks the moment his daughters had invited them over. Ashley was besotted with Clive Figg for some reason. She was at that unfortunate age when tall, dark and mysterious bad boys were completely irresistible. Doug didn't want to become the stereotype of an overprotective father, but there was something about these two. He didn't mind the dark clothes and alternative Goth look. Heck, back in the day he'd listened to Sabbath and Maiden and had hair hanging down to his waist. No, there was something sly and unwholesome about that pair, especially Figg. That one was a cocky bastard for sure. Carrying on like some kind of black magician with secret occult knowledge, even though it was just the usual bullshit teens experiment with when they want to be seen as different.
He didn't want his instincts as a father to bias his judgement though, so he'd done a little background digging. He went to an old friend, Joan Leonard, who was a teacher at Ashley and Claire's school and had also taught Figg and Bradley Higgins a few years back, and asked for a second opinion.
"Higgins is your average low achiever," she'd told him over dinner. "Not his fault. There's not much you can do when you're born as dumb as a box of rocks."
"The complete opposite. That's one bright kid. Really gifted academically."
"Too much of a rebel though?"
"Not really. He dressed in the usual outsider fashions, but he was always polite and deferential to the staff. A model pupil in that respect."
"But...?" Doug knew Joan well enough to tell when she wasn't giving him the full story.
"Ah Doug, you know me. I don't like saying bad gossip on anyone if I don't have the facts to back it up."
"But there is something?" Doug had pressed.
"I didn't like him, none of the staff did," Joan had admitted. "There was something about him that got under the skin. And there was that incident with him and a girl a few years back. Nothing concrete though, he's the type where nothing ever is."
That was enough for Doug. He'd taken them to one side and politely, but firmly, told them to stay the fuck away from his daughters.
He'd thought that had been the end of it until Halloween had rolled round. The evening had been no different to any other Halloween. The kids of the neighbourhood had come round on their trick-or-treat runs and afterwards Doug had dozed off in front of the game with a beer.
He'd been roused by a loud knock on the door followed by giggles. It was too late for the usual trick-or-treaters, he'd thought as he checked the clock. Probably some of the older kids making a mischief of themselves. He'd soon sort them out.
There'd been no one waiting on the doorstep. Instead he'd seen a black-robed figure kneeling next to his Mustang on the drive. The figure had looked up and Doug had seen Higgins's piggy little eyes staring out at him from under a black hood. Figg was standing at the end of the driveway, regarding Doug with his usual arrogant sneer.
That pair, what were they up—
Doug had looked at the side of his Mustang, his pride and joy, and saw that they'd carved 'TRICKED' in ugly large scratches that stretched almost the full length of the car. He'd roared in rage, grabbed the trusty baseball bat he kept in a stand next to the door and stomped down his drive after them like the implacable monster of countless Halloween night horror movies.
I'm going to kill them.
Doug watched as they ran ahead of him down the road. At the end they ducked into the old cemetery.
Perfect home for freaks like them, Doug thought. He kicked the overgrown iron gate open with a crash. Inside the cemetery was an overgrown maze of old tombs. It would have made a perfect hiding place, but the moron pair were too stupid to extinguish their light. He saw it flickering in the entrance of an old mausoleum near the centre of the cemetery.
Those punks were in for the hiding of their life, Doug thought as he reached and stomped into the old tomb. Ahead of him candlelight flickered against the stone walls of an old stairway leading down. Beneath him he heard a voice speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. It sounded like Figg, but Doug couldn't understand what he was saying.
Surely he wasn't stupid enough to really believe that black arts stuff, Doug thought. What was he trying to do, summon the devil to protect his ass? Doug would have laughed at how ridiculous the idea was if he wasn't so pissed.
He needed to laugh at them. His blood was running seriously hot at the moment. He was steamed at what they'd done to his car, but he needed to temper that rage. They weren't worth going to jail over. A few bruises would be enough to get the message across. He imagined them cowering below, desperately trying to summon up Lord Satan. It was pathetic.
He stomped into the candlelit room. Figg was standing next to an old candelabra. He was holding a sheaf of yellowed old pages, each in its own plastic sheet protector. Standing by him was his moron-in-chief, Higgins.
"Right you fuckers..."
Doug stopped. There was another person in the room with them.
He turned and saw a strikingly beautiful girl. He hadn't seen a figure like that outside of the wet dreams about big busted cheerleaders he used to have as a teen. She was in some kind of Halloween fancy dress. A demon or devil. Her skin-tight leather outfit was so provocative it would have shamed a ten dollar hooker.
Who was she? One of Figg's freak friends?
Damn realistic looking costume though.
"Nÿte, deal with this piece of human excrement," Figg sneered.
"Fuck him up real good," Higgins added.
"As you command... masters," the girl, Nÿte, said, before turning towards him.
Doug saw her face and immediately responded by swinging his bat at her head as if he was A-Rod trying to blast a home run out of the Yankee's stadium.
Now Doug considered himself a good, neighbourly sort of man. A man with a decent set of morals. Normally the notion of trying to knock a pretty woman's head off with a baseball bat wouldn't ever occur to him, no matter what kind of freaky costume she happened to be wearing.
That was until he saw her eyes. They were flat and dark like sheets of black glass. There was no sign of humanity or even a soul in those eyes, only hunger.
Doug looked into those eyes and all his preconceived notions of an orderly rational universe collapsed into rubble. Dear Lord, what kind of abomination had that idiot Figg set loose on the world?
He swung his bat, not because the red mists were upon him and he was too enraged to understand the consequences, but because he was in sudden mortal terror for both his life and soul.
He did not connect.
The demon reached up and caught the bat as if it was no more threatening than a rolled up newspaper. A delicate twist of her wrist was enough to wrench it from Doug's hands with enough force he felt something pop.
"For future reference," the demon said, looking casually back at Figg, "succubi are creatures of seduction and guile. They are not common brawlers. In most other circumstances your succubus would right now be back in hell nursing a splitting headache and a foul temper."
She released the bat and it bounced off the stone floor with a clatter.
"Not me though," Nÿte said with a smile that revealed two pointed fangs. "I like it rough."
Doug felt a clawed hand close around his throat. He was lifted bodily off the floor and swung around as if his two hundred pounds were nothing more than a rag to her. She slammed him down on the stone sarcophagus in the centre of the room with enough force to blast the air from his lungs.
"How would you like me to deal with this piece of human excrement?" the succubus asked, running a hand along Doug's cheek.
The touch was lascivious, a molestation.
"This man has both insulted me and thwarted my desires," Figg said.
"He's a prick," Higgins interjected.
"I want you to punish him," Figg said, the candlelight accentuating the cruel cast to his features. "His body and soul are yours to do with as you see fit."
"Fuck him up real good," Higgins added.
"Did you have any particular punishment in mind?" Nÿte asked. She slowly circled the stone block in the centre of the room, a black-clawed finger running over Doug's stunned body.
Doug was winded. He couldn't move at all.
"Use your imagination," Figg said, grinning evilly. "Be creative," he added.
"Creative?" Nÿte queried, full black lips twisting up in a cruel smile.
"Put on a show," Figg smiled back at her.
"A show," Nÿte said. She licked Doug's cheek with a long black tongue that was far hotter than any human's. "I like the sound of that."
She jumped up and straddled Doug with panther-like grace. She ran her hands over his broad chest in a mockery of a loving caress.
"Is she really going to, you know, fuck him?" Higgins asked.
"Of course, doofus," Figg said. "She's a succubus. That's how they kill people."
"Fuck yeah!" Higgins said.
Kill him, yes. Doug had no illusions there. He could see it in her cold black eyes. Kill him and maybe worse.
He'd got his breath back. A sudden twist, maybe he could take her by surprise. He bunched his muscles.
Nÿte looked down at him and wagged an elegant finger. She raised her other hand and opened it out flat, the palm facing downwards.
Chains erupted from beneath the stone sarcophagus and whipped around his wrists and ankles.
Nÿte closed her hand into a fist, turned it over and yanked upwards as if pulling hard on a rope.
The chains around Doug's arms and legs pulled savagely taut. His shoulder and knee joints screamed in agony as they were extended beyond their normal limits. The hard stone edges of the stone slab cut into his protesting flesh. He cried out in pain.
"Kewl," Higgins said.
"You shouldn't have meddled in the affairs of warlocks," Figg said. "Now you will suffer."
Nÿte unlaced her black bodice and her full breasts tumbled free. They were pale like milk and as large as the airbrushed fantasies of a porn magazine editor. She ripped off Doug's shirt and caressed his chest. Her fingernails were long black claws.
"You find this body arousing, don't you?" Nÿte asked him, cupping a hand under a large round breast. "I turn you on."
She wriggled in his lap, grinding her hips against his. Despite himself Doug felt blood rushing to his cock.
"Go to hell!" he wheezed at her.
"That doesn't make for a very effective comeback when you consider hell is where I live. That's like telling me to go home, which I'll be doing anyway once this night is over. You should use somewhere more appropriate. Like 'Go to Milton Keynes!'"
She looked at their puzzled faces.
"Oops, wrong country. 'Go to Utah!'" she suggested helpfully.
She slashed across Doug's chest with a sudden sweep of her long black nails. They were sharp like knives and Doug cried out in pain as they left livid red lines across his skin. Blood oozed up from the cuts. The pain kept growing and growing, as if her claws had been coated in acid or vinegar. Doug had been cut before and it had never hurt as badly as this.
Nÿte's black eyes lit up with a perverse gleam at the sight of his blood. She bent down and her eyes half closed in pleasure as she dabbed at the oozing red blood with her tongue.
Her tongue burnt like acid against his wounds. Doug writhed and squirmed, but he couldn't escape the crippling pain.
"Kinky bitch," Higgins said.
Nÿte took off her bodice completely and hurled it aside. It smacked against the side of Higgins's face with a loud slap.
Completely topless, Nÿte lay down on top of Doug, squashing her full breasts against his wounded chest. Mewling with pleasure she rubbed her tits against him, smearing her pristine white skin with his blood.
Doug span between competing emotions. There was a fantastically lithe woman lying on top of him, rubbing her breasts against him. As much as he wanted to, to not respond to that would be to deny being both human and male. He couldn't stop his arousal growing in the same way he couldn't voluntarily stop his own heart from beating.
Her large boobs, as enticing as they felt, were also rubbing against the wounds she'd slashed across his chest. Each rub fired a harpoon of pain between his ribs to where they lodged like cruel hooks in his lungs.
Doug was horrified to realise that only served to make his cock grow harder.
No. How could that be. He was a good man. A loving family man with a wife and two daughters he adored.
He wasn't a pervert. He wasn't a freak. Not like them.
"I turn you on," Nÿte whispered throatily in his ear. She ran a hand over the erection tenting the front of his trousers. "The body never lies."
"Fuck you!" Doug spat at her.
"If you want," she said. "First we'd better free up your little man though."
Something long and sinuous forced itself into his pants. Her tail, he realised, just as it jerked upwards and sliced his trousers open. Unconstrained, his erection bobbed up into the night air.
His cock was not free for long before her sinuous tail wrapped it in muscular coils. Like a boa constrictor coiled around its prey, was Doug's disturbing thought. Her tail tightened its grip and began to squeeze. The pressure grew and grew and Doug writhed as much as the chains would allow him.
He grimaced and gritted his teeth. Fuck, she was crushing his cock.
"My tail is very powerful," Nÿte said. "I can squeeze all the blood up into the head until your glans ruptures and the blood sprays out like a fountain."
Doug didn't doubt her. The pressure on the head of his cock was already excruciating.
"Or I can just rip it out at the root."
Her tail gave a couple of powerful tugs, sending bolts of agony tumbling through Doug's body. He gritted his teeth, determined not to give her the satisfaction of making him scream.
"Do it! Do it!" Higgins said excitedly.
"Amateurs," Nÿte said. "They think the instant gratification of a spray of blood and gore constitutes true horror."
Her tail relaxed its death grip on his cock.
"A true mistress of cruelty takes her time," Nÿte said. "She knows that pain and pleasure are not absolute fixed points but rather points relative to each other on a continuous spectrum. A man can quickly become inured to either."
Her tail, still wrapped around his cock, began to twist up and down, gently masturbating him.
"However, pitch a man from the highest peak of pleasure into the deepest chasm of pain and you will dash his mind to pieces."
Nÿte stared down at him, her eyes blacker than the deepest abyss. She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the mouth, her lips soft and supple.
She sat back up and removed the short leather skirt around her waist. She was naked now aside from black thigh-length boots. Her tail continued to twist and slide up and down his shaft, stroking and squeezing as if she knew exactly what would give him the greatest pleasure.
She straddled his stomach and spread wide the lips of her vagina. Inside her pussy was pink and moist.
"Does your wife ever reveal herself to you like this?" Nÿte asked, her voice silky like sweet poison. "She doesn't, does she. I bet she won't even let you have the light on while you fuck her."
"My wife is a thousand times the woman you'll ever be," Doug snarled.
"I'd hope so," Nÿte said with a smile, "considering I'm a demon and not a woman at all. I do have my charms though. For instance..."
She lifted her body up and back until her dripping sex was right above Doug's erection.
"...did your wife's cunt ever feel as good as this?"
Her tail uncoiled around his cock at the same instant her ass descended and the plush wet lips of her vagina engulfed him. He slid deep into a warm tunnel moist with her arousal. It was tight, really tight. Her soft flesh pressed all around him.
And it felt really good, he was ashamed to think.
"I didn't think so," Nÿte laughed.
She started to thrust up and down, her pussy sucking at his cock as it plunged back and forth into her silken depths. Despite the pain, despite the hard edges of the stone slab pressing into his flesh, despite his limbs bent at uncomfortable angles, despite the cuts still oozing blood across his mutilated chest, despite all this he felt his body respond and it shamed him. He could think of no worse betrayal of his wife.