Summoning the Incubus: Daylight

Morning broke with a thin red gash of light along the crests of the mountaintops. Owls finally dared to close their eyes, and bats cautiously folded their wings. The night horrors and prowling beasts of the forest abandoned their hunts to drag bloodied carcasses back to their lairs. In the west, a handful of lingering stars still shone.

Kasita and I sat atop her cottage roof, tense and watchful. The hood of her crimson cloak obscured her sleek black tresses while framing her ashen features. She held a whittled staff of red-stained wood in both hands, in the manner that a gladiator might wield a spear.

“I expect they will begin their march shortly,” she said softly, “Have you given thought to how you wish to proceed?”

“I won’t flee,” I whispered, quiet, but firm, “They’ll allow me to return to them as their daughter or…”

Kasita gave me a pitying look.

“They won’t. You know that deep down. They will find us here, and they will torch my cottage.”

I shook my head.

“They are still my family, and they have good souls. It will be hard for them, but they may find it in their hearts to forgive me. I’m sure they will consider my plea to join the convent now…” I trailed off; the notion of a life of celibacy carried a heavy sorrow with it now that it had not before. A life without trembling flesh, or shuddering gasps, or a thundering heartbeat – a life without that golden ecstasy of quivering heat rippling through every facet my being – it seemed suddenly like too much to bear.

“…Or perhaps I could return to the village as a healer. I could be so much more useful now. Our doctor means well, but truthfully, he is a butcher. Magic will mend people much better than his saws and drills.”

I nodded to myself, pleased with this idea. But Kasita let out a long, agitated sigh.

“You have a lot of faith in your family Little Bride. I hope for your sake that it is not misplaced.”

Kasita weaved my hand into hers and clasped it tightly. I rested my head against her shoulder and for some hours we spoke no more.

I watched the orange-yellow yolk of the sun inch its way above the horizon, casting the long lavender shadows of early morning upon the forest. The ground was sodden from the night’s storm, but the warm sunshine promised a fine day. The nature did not calm me. Birds sang. My hearing was sharper than it had been, and my intuition vastly improved upon. I could hear birdsong that was miles away and sense, quietly, under the rhythm of my own thoughts, their odd little bird feelings. Urgent skittish thoughts about grubs, eggs, twigs and hawks. And then suddenly I felt someone else.

“Millie!” Releasing Kasita’s hand, I leapt to my feet to give myself the best vantage of the clearing. At first, my eldest sister was nowhere to be seen, but after a few moments, Mildred tumbled out of the thick of the forest to stand in front of the little cottage. I hastily clambered down from the roof, ready to seize her in my arms in greeting; but she flinched away.

A decade older than I and heavily pregnant with what would be her eighth child, Mildred looked both furious and panic-stricken. Her usually tidy appearance had been ruffled and her faced was flushed from the exertion of the long walk in her motherly condition. She held her belly. A small twig was caught in the plaited nest of her chestnut hair. I could feel her anger and confusion pulsing from her, a haze of muddled feeling that heated the air.

“Is it true? Tell me if it’s true!” She demanded, “I told them it couldn’t be true! Is it true? Are you a witch!?” Two large teardrops streamed down her rosy cheeks.

“I – I’m,” I stammered, shaken by her turbulent state and my submergence in it. Her feelings filled me as if they were my own.

“You are.” She rasped through her tears, her mouth hanging open in horror.

“It’s not how you thi-” I began to plead, but she cut me off.

“Demon whore!” she spat. “You stupid child!”

“No, please listen; you don’t under-”

“They’re coming to burn you. Father, the bishop, half the village.”

We stared at one another, wide-eyed and silent for a long, stretching moment.

“Millie…?” I whispered, now deathly afraid.

“No.” She said blackly, “My sister calls me Millie. Stay away from me, witch.”

She turned her back on me and walked, calmly, slowly away. My heart breaking with every step she took. Her anger resonating deeply in the cavity of my chest.

“Millie! Mill. Don’t go! Please, I need you here with me.” Tears poured down my face in rivers. I watched her figure getting smaller and smaller until she disappeared entirely into the forest.

“Millie,” I croaked. Our sisterly bond of a lifetime was severed in an instant; I had never imagined such a thing was possible.

Kasita’s hand on my shoulder made me jump.

“You’re getting too emotional,” she warned, “See how dull your senses are that you didn’t feel me start towards you?” I nodded, but had no energy for words. “The mob is almost here, I can sense them approaching. You need to decide now. Are we running or we fighting?”

“You don’t have to stay with me, go if you think that it is best for you,” I insisted. She gazed earnestly at me.

“I will not. I am no coward, Little Bride, and I will be with you, come what may.”

Impossibly moved, I clutched her tightly in my arms.

“Then let us face them, together.” I said.

xxxxx

Stern, unfriendly, but well respected, my father was a usual kind of man of his time and locale. As owner of a mill, he was comparatively wealthy and of some standing within our tiny community; but could never hope to hold such authority in a larger town. He was at the zenith of his ability, and it made him bitter.

Kasita and I stood, shoulder to shoulder, in the center of a large pentagram that she burnt into the ground with a torrent of flame from her cherry-wood staff.

The mob approached, just as Mildred had described, with my father and the bishop leading the way. Behind them were my sisters’ four husbands, each with an axe slung over his shoulder. Another half-dozen men – all but one of whom I knew – made up the rest of the group.

“I have lain with most these men,” Kasita hissed, “Hypocrites.”

I said nothing, but glanced fretfully about like a nervous rabbit. The men carried armfuls of fallen branches and one or two hefted the felled trunks of young rowan trees behind them. They had a pyre in mind.

The vigilantes entered the clearing, hollering with excitement as they spotted us.

“Witches! Demon Whores! Devil Sluts!”

My father shot a revolted look at the revelers and they fell silent. Hope rose in my heart. Perhaps he would defend me yet. The group stopped just short of the outer ring of our pentagram, looking a little uneasy now that they could see the occult symbol.

“Gentlemen,” Kasita sneered the word, “If your intentions are not peaceful, you would all do best to turn around now and go home. Though you outnumber us many times, I think we all know that this is not a fight in your favor.”

“Your powers are worthless before the Lord, Witch!” boomed the Bishop, “There can be no peace with your kind!”

Kasita arched a skeptical eyebrow and smiled mockingly.

“I left you peaceful enough last time we met “Most Reverend”. You were so spent you slept like a babe.”

There was gruff laughter from the group of men, deadened by my father’s growl. He glanced disgustedly at the Bishop.

“Whatever the sins of others present, we are here to rid our community of your terrible blight.”

My father would not meet my eye as he spoke, though the Bishop’s glare was enough to singe me.

“Ought I not have a trail?” I challenged, addressing the mob at large. It was the Bishop who replied.

“The fire will be your trial. If you are innocent, your immortal soul shall ascend to Heaven. If you are a witch, of which there is no doubt, then you will receive the judgement that you deserve.”

Stony faced, my father nodded. I began my appeal.

“I know that what I have done many would consider shocking, even sinful, but please understand…”

My father’s face was twisted into a sour expression, but I was determined to say my piece. “I have never asked anything of you except for to be a nun, to live a life without marriage, to be of a different kind of service to my village than my sisters. But that request was not listened to, that freedom not granted, you left me without choice.”

His head was shaking very slightly from side to side as color flushed his weathered face. He started his speech quietly, almost calmly, but with every word he grew louder and fiercer.

“Do you mean to leave the blame for your actions at my door? I suppose you’d say that it was I who dragged you into this witchy wood and threw you to the demons! The nunnery is the place of the woman with genuine spiritual gifts and perhaps those who cannot be married; but not of those too ungrateful to marry!”

I was so horrified by this speech that my next words were issued in an awful harrowing screech.

“What would there have been to be grateful for? Throwing a girl to a man is no different than throwing her to a demon!”

“There is no other way.” His last words came stilted, but deliberate. “This must be done. But I cannot watch.” He turned away from the twisted scene before him.

It was in this moment that I lost my nerve. I flew into a white-hot rage. My body burst with bright gold flames. Every inch of my skin glowed with the radiant horror of staring straight into the sun. I hurt all over, as if my skin was blistering and my bones burning to charcoal. The heat was so punishing it was like Death’s own kiss; but the fire did not maim my body. The flames rose from my screaming skin in glorious ripples, surrounding my visage like a lion’s mane or an angel’s halo.

“You will stand, and you will watch.” I commanded, “You will watch me burn and you will know my fate first hand. My blood is your blood and you will watch it boil. You heard my cries as I entered this world and you will hear them as I leave it.”

My father flinched, but he did not turn back to look at me, he continued to walk away.

The other men stood still as stones, their faces frozen in contortions of shock and fear, their hands clutching anxiously at their weapons and branches.

“If you will not watch,” I heard myself scream, my flattened palm held aloft, “May you always be blind!” Magic surged through my arm, strong and terrible, like an invisible vine it grew from my hand and pushed its way determinedly through the trees and into my father’s skull. I felt his fear. That’s all that was there. No regret or love for me, just fear. I snatched his sight from him with disgusting ease. Squeezing the vessels and tissues of his eyeballs until his sockets were filled with nothing but pungent red gore.

Revenge was so effortless that I found myself laughing as I reached out magically for Mildred’s husband. I didn’t concern myself with his thoughts. I just did what needed to be done, crushing the fists that had so often beaten my sister, into useless mangled shapes. He screamed with pain, but it only spurred me on.

Now I turned to my next victim, ready to inflict whatever harm was most fitting.

“Enough of this,” Kasita spat, pointing her staff at the Bishop, but using all her supernatural mite to constrain me, “Leave. Now. Before anymore harm is done.” Needing no further instruction, the band of men fled.

Curled into a ball on the ground, my manic laughter stumbled into sobs. This was what it was to be a witch.

xxxxx

Many moon cycles passed and I soon settled into the routine of my new life of liberated exile in depths of the forest. Each morning I rose with the first rays of sunlight that crept nervously over the dark brow of the mountainous horizon. I threw my white hooded cloak around my naked shoulders and collected a wicker basket on the crook of my elbow, before heading out barefoot to my favorite clearing.

It was the very early spring, the ground was carpeted with crystal frost and partially opened snowdrops bordered the narrow pathways. The tiny Eden was a clear, cool pool, crusted with ice, veiled with a thin, low-hanging mist and surrounded by tall ferns and bracken. I gulped the cold dry air, and it clung to the insides of my lungs before I exhaled, watching it leave my lips in fragile ghosts of fog. Under the fabric of my cloak my body trembled with the fresh thrill of the cold, goosebumps patterned my thighs and my nipples stood out stiff and expectant.

Confident in my solitude, I discarded my cloak, leaving it to hang from a nearby branch. Then I stepped purposefully out onto the glazed pond, the freezing ice momentarily sticking and burning the soles of my feet. I channeled my magical energies, from somewhere in the pit of my stomach, to spark through my nerves, through my hips, thighs, calves and ankles, down to the bottoms of my feet and into the ice. It melted away into the warming pool, so that I stood, relatively firmly, on the surface of the water.

I had not anticipated the sheer physicality of having magic, I could feel it palpitating and riving in my body at every moment, like having a second heartbeat.

Holding my arms out slightly to my sides, palms facing upwards, I closed my eyes softly and felt the weak morning sunrise cast its yellow light across my nude form. I thought of the demon Prince’s eyes on my body, their hunger waiting to be satisfied by the pleasures of my flesh. My arousal bloomed. The bud between my legs begged for attention. I bit my lower lip and let myself sink a little way into the warm water, so that my feet were submerged, but I still floated.

Patience, I’d learnt, was everything. I splashed my feet gently in the water, so that my inner thighs rubbed one another and my clit was pinched tightly between my damp lips. Then I let my hands wander over my breasts, weighing them in my palms, squeezing them gently, trailing my fingertips over their chilled, sensitive, flesh. The water grew hotter, vapor rising from the surface into the crisp air. I sunk deeper, the balmy water lapping at my knees.

I slid twinned fingers into the wet of my mouth, and coated them with moisture. Sucking at them, remembering the great mite of the Prince’s member, for which my fingers were a pitiful substitute.

Though everything else above my tickled knees was dry, the folds of my flower were flushed with wet cream. I pinched and pulled at the tender points of my nipples, and allowed myself the vanity of hearing my own elated gasps of sexual gratitude. I thought of how the demon had luxuriated in me and I searched out that pleasure for myself. Whenever I was alone, I found myself thinking of him.

I pressed my two fingers into the damp folds that concealed my wakeful clit. I worked my fingertips against it, becoming ever more enraptured with the thrill of my own body, until I could bear the chill against my skin no longer, and I sank blissfully into the hot water, submerging even my head.

Beneath the surface my skin flushed with delight. The heat was a heavenly comfort after the cold of the air. For a moment I held my breath. My finger circled my clit softly; the hot water seeped inside me, filling my cunny, but leaving me unsatisfied. My eyes were closed as I focused on the intricate work of building my excitement. I rose for air.

When I lifted my head and shoulders from the water, I was full of vitality. The cold air on my glowing cheeks struck me wide-awake. I slid my paired fingers into the hot channel of my cunt, pushing out the water with each plunge. I licked my dry lips as I started to pant, and laid my head back against the bank of the pool.

My magic shuddered involuntarily in my fingertips, sending humming energy through my aching clit. With my other hand I grasped blindly at the water, muttering the words of an elemental spell. My palm chilled. Then I lifted a solid cylinder of ice from the water. Its edges were wet, already dripping as it began to melt. I popped one end of the thick icicle into my mouth, working and shaping it with my tongue, pushing it to the back of my throat. Pleased with my toil, I slid the ice cock out from between my lips. Quaking with want, I rubbed the ice across my clit and purred with the contrast of feeling. Then pushed it, slow and deliberate, cold and hard, deep into my cunt. I let out a lusty moan as it stretched me open.

As always, I tried to pace myself, but I soon gave in to the demands of my flesh. I fucked myself with abandon. One hand massaging my clit, the other pounding the plaything in and out of my chamber with all the ferocity I could muster. I ground my hips against it, seeking that begging spot. I gasped and moaned and squealed. The ice grew smaller in my hand, but my body begged for more. I tried to cast the freezing spell again, but found I was no longer in possession of my language. The ice had melted to nothing, and it was a torrent of heated water with which I now fucked myself. The water surged in and out as fearsome as a tidal wave. Miniature whirlpools sucked at my pink nipples and throbbing clit. To feel so much stimulation was overwhelming.

I gave myself to the water. All at once my thoughts fell away. I was kissing the cosmos, my body shuddering and flexing, my mind transported. Mouth open. Eyes closed. Sheath clenching. Each shimmering second washing over me in a wave of heat. Through my clit to my very fingertips. I savored the sublime magic of it for as long as I could. My skin trembled with the ecstasy and exertion of it… until it slipped away.

I swam languidly to the opposite edge of the pool. It was a beautiful life.

xxxxx

Home in the forest was with the woman to whom I felt I owed everything. Kasita was my teacher, and my family, my lover and my world. You might ask why it was not of her I thought when I slipped out to bathe alone? Such questions troubled me, and I did my level best not to dwell upon them.

“You are so much changed,” Kas smiled affectionately as me, tucking a strand of my straw-colored hair behind my ear, “I never dreamt that first day that you’d become so… ”

“So what exactly?” I laughed, drawing her close into my embrace.

“Strong.” She said approvingly, grinning and shaking her head.

She was right. I was strong. My encounter with the Prince of Azure had transformed me utterly. My new senses seemed almost too numerous to count, and I often didn’t know I was using them until occasion required me to articulate them. I knew at all times, night or day, rain or shine, inside or out, what the phase of the moon was and the exact appearance of the map of the constellations in the sky. (Before, I could not have even pointed out The Great Bear.) I knew the tides, their ebb and flow, the songs of whales and what they meant, if water was safe to drink by the smell of it. But at this moment in my young life – I had never laid eyes upon the ocean. I could manipulate fire with my breath, rousing a tiny ember to bonfire in an instant. I knew which plants were poisonous (though, I still needed Kasita to tell me their names and how to harvest them) and which song belonged to which bird. Even at a distance, I could feel the little frantic heart beat in each sparrow and each crow; and I could stop them with a cruel thought and watch them fall from the trees. This was how we ate.

I was physically strong too, easily able lift barrels of water, or fell a tree. Or most pleasingly, to throw Kasita over my shoulder and haul her, squealing in mock indignation, to our shared bed. For while in the daylight hours she taught me literacy, ritual and herb-lore; by nightfall she taught me how to make love.

“I was weak before,” I said sadly, “I didn’t really understand how weak I was,”

“Nonsense, Little Wife,” Kas still never used my name, joking endlessly that I was her ‘Little Bride’ or ‘Little Wife’ – and every time she did, it became a little truer. “A girl who takes her destiny into her own hands is always strong. Whether she succeeds or not.” It was impossible not to swoon in the wake of Kasita’s wisdom.

xxxxx

After a busy day buried in spell books and practicing calligraphy while Kasita was out in the forest, I was excited to show her my next intended endeavor.

“I want to make one of these,” I said, holding the heavy book open at the right pages to show her, “I think it’s a little advanced for me to manage on my own though,”

“A scryglass? Whatever for?”

“To watch over my mother and sisters,” Though I tried not to dwell upon my old life, I missed them deeply. Kasita scoffed.

“The women who wanted you to spend the rest of your life raped by your husband, breeding like a sow and working the land like a carthorse? Forget them: they ought to be nothing to you!”

“It wasn’t like that! They’re my family, Kas!” I shrieked, horrified by her lack of understanding and furious with the brutal accuracy of her speech. I had blinded our father and maimed Mildred’s husband; I needed to know that my sisters were still provided for to alleviate the creeping guilt that grasped at my heart with an iron fist whenever I let my mind wander back to my family.

She stood up, her fingernails digging deep into her palms, her blue eyes ablaze with hurt and anger. “It was exactly like that. After everything you went through to escape them, you’d be their guardian angel? What do you think you’ll see through the glass? I’ll tell you: rape and beatings and neglect and suffering. Death in childbirth. Your nieces sent out to repeat the senseless cycle. Is that what you want to see?”

“You speak as if they had any choice.” I spat darkly.

She threw her arms up in exasperation.

“They did have a choice! The choice you made!”

“If the choice I’ve made is to be bullied, intimidated and isolated from my family by my lover, then I may as well have married a man.” I sneered through gritted teeth.

We stood in silence, eyes locked, both seething with rage. I tried to feel the truth of her feelings out for myself, but she kept the magic of them from me. I touched her flinty resentment, but couldn’t feel the concern I knew must surely lurk beneath it.

She turned away first, grabbed her red cape from the back of the wooden chair and flung it hurriedly over her shoulders.

“I won’t be back to tonight.” She promised bitterly, transforming her glamor from her usual womanly raven-haired beauty, to the less sophisticated charms of a busty honey-blonde adolescent.

“Oh don’t be so childish,” I mocked, though my head was spinning with the inevitability of her immediate plans.

“Childish? I’ve seen more centuries than you’ve seen decades; people never alter. Let your love for them go.” And with that she slammed the cottage door behind her, leaving me alone with my fury.

When my anger burnt itself out, I sighed and flicked forlornly through the pages of the book, not genuinely reading, so much as pointing my eyes in the direction of the pages and pondering my lover’s cruelty. I stopped. I recognised a page: an illustrated pentagram bordered with carefully inked incantations.

And I let my jealousy and secret lust make a poor judgement for me.

xxxxx

Sunlight streamed through the open door of the cottage, warming the right side of my face where it fell. The room smelt beautiful, of beeswax candles, heady spices and freshly cast magic. A thick, purple-tinted fog covered stone floor. It seemed to shimmer. The large midnight blue shadow of a titanic beast was cast over the far side of room. The summoning was complete.

The Prince stood, regal and magnificent, his amber eyes outshining even the sunlight. His body was exactly as I remembered it, jewel-blue skin patterned with deliberate decorative scars, enormous bat-like wings and pointed ears decorated with golden rings. For the briefest moment, he seemed delighted to see me. Then his jaw hardened and he seemed disgusted.

“Little Witch,” his deep voice resonated through the room, restrained from being a shout, but only barely, “I had thought that I had made it perfectly, and indisputably clear, that the bargain we struck was irreversible. Permanent! Eternally binding!” He spread out his expansive wings so that he filled the whole room from one wall to the other. Veins pulsed angrily all over his body. Thin tendrils of orange smoke rose from his wide nostrils. “Regardless of your satisfaction with your powers or situation, our deal cannot be altered! I don’t care if you possess the magical abilities of a church mouse, you are in no way entitled to – oh.”

His tirade stumbled to an end. His eyes were wide and his moth agape.

My body was blazing with milk-white flames, blurring my edges so that where my skin ended and the fire began were impossible to determine. The fire pierced my long white cloak, but didn’t catch it alight or even mar it.

I was unsure of what emotion in me had triggered this peculiar battle armor. It was a subtle affair compared to inferno that had engulfed me that day I committed my crimes in the clearing. Perhaps fear had crept in when he raised his voice. Perhaps indignation when he accused me of backing out on our deal. Either way, I wasn’t going to let him think these flames were anything but deliberate.

I fixed him with a steely gaze, “I haven’t summoned you to break our contract, Prince. I am plenty powerful enough to be satisfied.”

The demon crept forward a little, intrigued.

“So upon what business do you summon me then, Little Witch?” He asked with raised eyebrows. “A warlock might summon a demon to act as a body guard, a King might summon a demon to lead the charge of his armies. What does a woman summon a demon for? For magic. And if she calls on him again it is only ever to beg to give that magic back.” He drew closer still. “What do you want, Little Witch?”

“I want you, My Prince. Whenever I’m alone, I think of how me made me feel… how changed I am because of you. I want you to take me again.”

The Prince frowned. Then spat.

“What is your game? What do you hope to gain through such empty flattery?”

“There’s no game,” my pitch heightened, “I mean it honestly.”

He shook his head.

“This does not happen.” He stated flatly, his orange light blazing straight into my eyes. I stared back, unblinking. His light poured into my pupils, boring into my mind to seek my intent. For what seemed like an age neither one of us moved or spoke.

Then his face lit up with a mischievous smile and he was fully returned to his usual self.

“Well well, brave Little Witch, since it seems you really have gone through all this trouble for my sake, I suppose we’d best make the deal. I can’t give you any more power; but I also can’t take your body without paying a price for it.”

“Why not simply your pleasure for mine?” I asked.

“I’m not making you this offer as a gesture of goodwill. It is simply the terms of the spell that you have summoned me here under. I will not be dismissed from this realm until I have passed on some form of ‘a witch’s magic’ to you.”

I would have asked why he wished so much to be dismissed after our encounter, but at that moment I was struck with what felt like an excellently serendipitous idea.

“Then I would like you to give me a scryglass,”

The Prince looked at me blankly for a moment, then burst into peals of bellowing laughter. “What’s funny?” I snapped.

“A scryglass!” he was still laughing heartily, “Why don’t you just ask for a lucky rabbit’s foot or a sprig of heather? I am The Prince of Azure, The Sapphire Nightmare, The Blue Incubus! I’ve defeated legions of men, beasts and gods; these scars are war medals! I wield as much magic as exists in any singular being and you want me to give you a common trinket like a scryglass?”

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, maybe you’ll believe my request is genuine if I only request a token offering,” I blustered, not wanting him to suspect the low level of my actual magical knowledge. He grinned with his full mouth of teeth.

“Very well. For the pleasure of fucking you, I shall give you a scryglass. But you should know that you could have asked for all the jewels in Azure and would have paid the price.”

“I’ll bear that in mind next time.” I laughed softly, suddenly shy. He moved closer.

“Next time?” He beamed. He’d moved as close to the edge of the pentacle as he could, his expansive wings folded protectively around the circle of salt, enclosing me in a dome of dim blue light where the sunshine passed through the vibrant hue of his skin.

“We’ll see,” I soothed, “I invite you to enter.” And I reached out for him, placing my tiny hands on either side of his broad face, pulling him to me.

I kissed him. Soft, and light, and lingering. Our lips were ill-matched in size; his great mouth engulfed my cheek or jaw from time to time, and I found more than once that my lips were not stretched wide enough to allow his broad tongue to explore my small mouth. As the kiss swelled, my body tingled hotly with stirring magic and the dull ache of lust.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and held myself tightly against his ornamented chest. His heart beat so loudly I could hear it. Feel it even through his rib-cage. It thrilled me.

I kissed him again. Harder. My tongue pressing deeper into his mouth. My breasts flattened against his chest. His kiss in return was overwhelming. His tongue filled the small wet space of my mouth, his giant hands grabbed clumsily at my frame through the swath of my white cloak. Huge palms pawing roughly at my hips, breasts and inner thighs, frustrated in their efforts by the silky fabric. The white fire broke out across my skin like a fever sweat, the quivering shimmering flame flared from my lips and fingertips in feathery curls. Far from backing away from this quiet inferno, the Prince snatched at the fire with his lips, sucking the rippling magic from my fingers.

“Does it burn?” I murmured.

“Like the stars,” he said gleefully, burying his mouth against the flickering light at my nape.

“I can’t feel it?”

He lifted his face to raise a knowing eyebrow at me, then with a devious grin launched back to my neck again – until my pale skin was laden with dark love bites and single flames of lilac fire. These I could feel.

I reached to unclasp my cape, but he intervened. His mighty hands tore at my cloak, so that the fastening burst open and the garment slid like heavy liquid backwards over my shoulders, landing in a crumbled heap around my feet.

“Oh,” The Prince’s topaz eye’s sparked brightly as his gaze traced my newly revealed nude figure. “Magic is very becoming on you.”

He was cautious as he brushed a lock of my hair back behind my shoulder. Then, he pressed a soft kiss against my collarbone. I shivered despite my bodily halo. Next, he took not just my nipple, but my whole breast in his mouth. I moaned softly as his tongue slithered over the sensitive skin. His big hands held onto my hips and he lowered himself to his knees before me, closing his wings behind his back.

Between my legs, my little bud pulsed eagerly, pleading for touch. A patch of wet glistened there in spite of the flames. Impossible.

“What do you want Little Witch?” he purred into my inner thigh. I knew the game he was starting here, he expected me to blush and squirm and to do what he wanted.

“Lick. My. Clit.” I said, clear and careful with each syllable. He grinned with his full display of available teeth, apparently not at all displeased that I had found my voice on such matters. With a careless hand he parted my thatch so that the moist peak of my now throbbing clit was visible, and pressed the heat of his mouth against the white flame that surrounded it. His tongue flickered quickly against the engorged nub, sending ripples of intense pleasure through my whole vulva. Then he circled it more slowly, with only the very tip of his tongue touching me, feeling out my reactions, tiny trembles and sensual sighs. My legs felt unsteady, every tremor of delight making it a little harder to stand upright. I clasped tightly at the taunt muscles of his giant upper arms. His tongue never seemed to stop. It moved in broad lapping strokes or in frantic bursts, but it never seemed to stop. I pressed myself against his mouth, beginning to grind against him without ever thinking of it. Even as I basked in the indulgence of my most urgent need, I felt the familiar prickling whisper of my longing cunny underneath it. The longer he persisted and the closer I crept towards fulfillment, the sharper the desire to be filled to the hilt became.

Yet I resisted the urge to yield, concentrating on the excellence that spread out through my body from the pulse of my clit, feeling it sparkle in my nerves. My body was alight, my head swimming, my cunt dripping. My muted, appreciative moans had begun to shift as I lost place of myself. I was lost. Panting, writhing, grinding, moaning with utter desperation.

Then his tongue slipped inside of me, and for a moment I was at my wits end. His tongue was large to match his mouth, and he pushed it deep into the hot wet of my sheath. Deep enough to tease at the sweetest ridges of my chamber, and to draw a new lease of frenzy from my body. The fire upon my skin crackled and shot white sparks. As his tongue tunneled deeper, his thick lips wrapped around my mound, so that my whole sex was consumed by him, engulfed in the warmth of his mouth. Magic bubbled in my bloodstream. My fingers clutched desperately at his blue flesh, nails pressing urgently into his skin. I gazed down the length of my body – pale pointed breasts glowing with white embers, the soft outline of my stomach shimmering with flame – and met those startling amber eyes, glowing with their impossible light, full of wicked knowing and evident glee. He had me exactly where he wanted me. At the brink.

I pushed him away. It caught him off guard and he stumbled backwards a little, shaking a wing to regain his balance. He hadn’t expected me to be capable of moving him, and frankly neither had I. He opted to sit in straddle on the floor, a little further away from me than he had been before.

I’d avoided looking. Not out of shyness, but perhaps mistrust of my memory. Proudly erect between his powerful legs stood his gargantuan monster cock. Deep blue, pulsing with veins, almost too thick to take and certainly too long – his frightening, transfixing, beautiful manhood was adorned with a heavy ring of gold that hugged its base. It shone with a dazzling droplet of metallic golden precum, and every inch of it begged to be fucked.

In playful vengeance, he grabbed hold of me by my hands and pulled me roughly into his lap.

And now that I was in his lap on the floor, that demon’s cock was pressed against the dewy petals of my labia, the metal of the ring cool against the heat of him. I wrapped my long legs tightly around his waist.

“My Prince,” I murmured softly into his ear, “What do you want?” I kissed the sinews of his well-built neck, breathing the musky scent of him into my lungs.

“Enough teasing, Witch,” came his low, almost light hearted, almost dangerous growl. His massive hands hugged my hips and tugged me roughly downwards towards his twitching blue beast – but I braced my arms with my hands upon his shoulders and moved nowhere at all. It was my turn to flash a wry grin. There was a moment of unresolved joyful struggle as he pulled me down and I pushed myself up. Our strengths were better matched than I would ever have believed. And though he gritted his teeth and snarled with frustration as I evaded his desire; there was stunned admiration in his expression too.

My cunny was howling with need. Its hot hunger demanded that I give up this childish play-fight. But I was winning.

“What do you want my Prince?” I sang playfully. He made a sound of mock-agitation and still tried to pull me down onto him. “If you don’t tell me, I can’t be expected to know.” I saw him thinking. Choosing the right words so I could not deliberately misinterpret him.

“I want your hot wet cunt to slide down onto my cock.” Nice try.

I pressed my soaking petals against the heat of his rod, smearing my cream down the length of him without giving him entry. He groaned with pleasure, but cursed under his breath. I giggled, closing my eyes lightly and rubbing my clit wantonly into the shimmering golden salt that leaked like tree sap from is tip. Then his low moan came. “I want my cock to fill all the space inside your sweet cunt.”

I bit my lip.

“I want that too.”

I collapsed onto him; the sticky helmet of his monster piercing my sodden slit. I gasped, still somehow unready for the sheer girth of it. For a fraction of a moment, his eyes slipped shut and his breathing stopped. Then with a ferocious spurt of energy he pumped his hips upwards, driving his cock into my core.

There was so much light in the room; sunshine, demon eyes and the flames of my body. The brightness seemed to have its own magic, adding to the elation. His blue skin shone with sweat, his chest rose and fell with the labor of his breath. His muscles were tense beneath my pale hands as I pressed them flat against his torso. And I was filled and stretched by the length and thickness of him.

I rode him. Up and down in long, slow, firm motions, gripping at his member with my clenching walls. Feeling every inch of his hard length slipping from me as I rose back up to perch upon his mushroom head. I felt that we might both shatter at any moment, but then it would be over, and such a thought was unthinkable. So we persisted, slow and strained, savoring each ascent and descent of my hips.

The heat intensified. I finally felt the fire on my skin. In my lungs. In my bones. I circled my hips, grinding my sex down upon him, rubbing my hot swollen clit against the cold gold ring. My juices coated my thighs, perspiration trickled down my back; but still I burned. The Prince moaned beneath me, the vibration running like a tremor through our bodies. His strong hands gripped my hips to rock me back and fourth more quickly. The careful pacing was over. I ground on his dick faster and faster. I rolled my hips so that my clit tasted the friction. Electric ecstasy racked me. My flames leapt. I screamed. Sparks scattered. I felt his thick cock shuddering within my chamber, writhing like a serpent. Oh My Prince.

He burst inside of me, erupting like a volcano, filling my sheath with lava.

And then I felt them. His feelings. The sizzle of release.

As he unleashed himself inside me the barriers of his magic were permeable and his emotion overwhelmed me. His bliss – now my bliss too – was concentrated and physical. Every bit as euphoric as my own orgasm; but distinct in flavor, somehow earthier, somehow more primordial. Paradise was not outside of myself, but inside, in the fabric of my own body. Engulfed in swirls of bright blue flame, I couldn’t feel where my body ended as his began anymore. With a final shooting spasm of his mighty cock, he bellowed something ancient.

Then he lay back upon the floor, utterly spent.

I collapsed, shivering and satisfied onto the breadth of this chest. We lay, panting together, a mess of sweat, golden nectar and grimy ash. Our mismatched bodies still carnally entwined.

“The spell didn’t break,” I sighed dreamily, kissing his scarred shoulder, “Do you think we ought to try again?”

“I am so sorry my dear Little Witch,” he said solemnly, “But you haven’t been inside of your pentagram for a very long while.”

And with that, his powerful arms ensnared me, his great wings folded tightly around us both, a black veil of potent teleportation magic fell… and we vanished quite completely from the cottage in the forest.

We were gone.

THE END OF CHAPTER TWO