There are three rules you learn when you first get into magic.

One: let no one know your real name.

Two: never cast a spell you can’t control.

And three, perhaps the most important one of all: don’t make deals with demons.

At some point in his life, Calvinius Indominus Valor had broken just about every law that nature and supernature had come up with to put in his way. But he’d never violated those. Common sense didn’t extend far in the world of sorcerers, but he wasn’t a stupid man.

That point was arguable, given that he was about to break Rule Three in a big way.

The circular room at the bottom of his lighthouse had been his study, but he had prepared it to be the focal point for his summoning ritual. Its walls, decorated with accolades and awards from magic and non-magic institutions alike, were lined with magic-suppressing cold iron. Blinding seals built into the floor and ceiling kept any scrying eyes out, and its lack of corners prevented any interference from Tindalos. He had also moved all the furniture or any other large object that could be tossed with telekinetic force. Difficult for him to move those bookcases and desk all on his own. Years of worming through books had depleted his muscles. But what use were magical powers if you couldn’t use them for minor physical labor around the home?

Three concentric rings of protective sigils circled the final ring of salt extracted from the Dead Sea. Even before he pulsed energy into the seals, he could feel the thrum of power. Mana leak from a nearby leyline crackled through the symbols like speaker static. The noises faded to a steady pulse in time with his heartbeat. Each ring flashed into azure light as it awoke. With the seals in place, he cracked open his grimoire to a page bookmarked with a ribbon.

Summoning rituals were not difficult. First-year students can safely pull Familiars into the mortal plane with enough oversight and study. Playing with fire was likewise relatively easy, though if you’re not careful, someone gets burned. That’s why he had spent a considerable amount of time preparing.

He read and reread the ritual to make sure. He was glad he did! A crucial ingredient was missing. He ran up the spiral staircase to his kitchen to fetch seven individual jars filled with a dark red fluid. Setting them in an equidistant line along the ground in front of him, he was ready to begin.

In a wicked tongue that made his ears ring, he spoke the invocation. He marshaled his energies to reach out into another plane of existence and warp the fabric of space and time to pull through a single spark from that great beyond into his own world. Time lost all meaning during the invocation. Days could have passed and he would not have noticed.

Grasping his target, he firmly pulled with his mind’s eye. A spark of magical energy filled the containment circle. Buoyed, he redoubled his efforts. The spirit tried to slip away, but the seals weakened it while strengthening his own grip. It was an inevitability.

The wisp of white light dissolved outward into a spectral humanoid form. The details filled in. Long, flowing silver hair. Ashen skin. Eyes that burned brightest red. It moved in slow motion as it grew in opacity, examining its own form like a self-aware illusion.

It was then that Cal realized something was wrong. The form was too small, too frail to be the Viscount that he’d tried to summon. It was only five and a half feet tall, if that. Rather than bulky muscle on a skeleton of protruding spikes, the creature before him had the generous curves of a feminine form. Ghostly wrappings covered her body in the loosest sense of the word, barely concealing her nipples and curling around her hips a handful of times

As the ritual finished, gravity asserted itself and dropped it, her, the short distance to the ground. The jolt made her breasts heave in a distracting way. Despite her deathly appearance (and the knowledge he’d just pulled her from Hell) he might have considered her beautiful.

“If this is about the Church I burned, I didn’t do it,” the demoness said with a sneer.

Cal scrunched his brow, then looked over at the grimoire. “That can’t be right…” He flipped through the pages to the first part of the ritual. “I specifically invoked the Viscount of the Sinister Meridian, 4th Circle.”

“Viscountess. Variel is no longer around to take calls from impudent sorcerers. What are these seals, Nehemothic? I’m flattered.”

He flipped through the book, looking for a designation for the entity trapped in his summoning circle. A novel idea occurred to him just as he was about to reach for his copy of the Diabolica Magnus: ask.

“You’re far too attractive to be from the 4th Circle. What’s your name?”

“I’m not stupid, mortal. Call me Lyla,” she said with a feigned curtsy, hands clasping an imaginary skirt in her dip of the knee, “At your service, m’lord. What do you want? Love? The head of a rival? Fame and fortune?”

He stiffened his neck, making him look as stern and impressive as one could in a stolen Mariot bathrobe. “Power. I desire power above all.”

“Hells to Betsy, that’s a new one. Well, I don’t give anything away for free. That’d dilute the brand,” she said, folding her arms. “Go ahead human: impress me.”

Cal spread his hand out at the jars of blood at his feet. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in seven jars of Tyrant Blood?”

“No…unless it’s fresh?” She waited for him to shake his head before continuing, “Ah, see, it’s no good to me then. Variel drank that stuff like it was Red Bull but I could never stomach it cold.”

He made a face. “I could warm it up in a microwave?”

“Do you have anything else to offer? Something that’s not reheated vital fluids?” Lyla asked, tapping her foot.

“I have gems, precious metals…”

“Your soul?” she asked hopefully.

Cal laughed. “No, I need that for later.”

“Your name then?”

“I’m not a fool either, demon.”

Lyla huffed. “Then what? If you have nothing to offer, then send me back to the Pit. I have things to do with my day, you know.”

He racked his brain for a suitable replacement. Demons were fickle creatures with extravagant tastes. Plus, he wasn’t sure what bait to use on this breed. He flicked through the list of demon sub types in his mind, settling on a potential candidate.

“Are you, by any chance, a Daughter of Lilith?” he asked, using a polite term for the more familiar Succubus.

“What of it? Are you some kind of prude?” she asked.

“Not at all. I wonder if you wouldn’t give me power in exchange for … my seed?”

She flinched. Cal swore he saw her tongue flit out of her lips for a moment before she realized what she was doing. “What makes you think I’d be interested in something like that?” she asked.

“Mage Seed is a potent power source on its own, is it not? Especially for your kind. I know Succubi can spin entire worlds of illusion out of a few milliliters. I haven’t had sex or masturbated for over a week, not out of intention I’ve just been too busy. How much power do you think I have contained in this?”

He let the robe fall from his shoulders. Tenting his boxers was an impressive slab of masculine meat, bulging out the fabric with a hint of its true size. Lyla tried to hide her excitement, but he could see her pupils dilate from across the room.

“You have a bad poker face, Lyla. I can tell you want some of this.” He rubbed his package, showing off just how much he had to offer.

“Okay fine,” she said in a huff, “Your seed would be an acceptable commodity. It would have to be in…prodigious quantities to be worth a fraction of my power.”

He played with the elastic of his underwear. “A trade, then. Some of mine, for some of yours. We could make it a regular thing for as long as you’re willing. I gain demonic power, you gain mortal, arcane energy. Deal?”

“How do I know you’re even powerful enough to be worth it?” she asked. The question’s importance to her decision was belied in part by her pulling off her minuscule skirt and exposing her breasts. Cal grinned at the sight, but humored her nonetheless.

“First one’s free, as they say,” he said. Shucking his boxers, he strode through the protective seals. He crossed the final salt seal with trepidation. Lyla could, in theory, carve him apart now. But that would mean he wouldn’t be around to disperse the spell. So long as she didn’t want to spend an eternity locked in a magical-proofed basement, she’d think twice about killing him. She could overpower him, theoretically, but Cal believed himself to have more than enough magical skill to eject her from the mortal plane before that went too far. She was only a demon. A source of energy to exploit, nothing more.

He was already half hard. The demoness didn’t hesitate to fall to her knees. Cal couldn’t deny the appeal of having a woman, especially one with power, at his feet.

“Go on then,” he said, pumping his erection, “If you want to sample my wares, you’ll have to get it out yourself.”

Lyla extended an unnaturally long tongue. It flicked up along his cockhead, slathering it in saliva and making her moan. “So long since I’ve tasted real meat … mmm~”

He gripped a handful of her hair near the scalp. “No teeth, got it?”

She hissed. “I already said no to blood, remember?” Before he could respond, she dived onto his cock. Lips opened and sucked in his shaft. Her tongue displayed incredible dexterity to match its length, corkscrewing around to add a little extra sensation to his experience. The grunts he gave were proof positive her efforts were not in vain. This was but an appetizer to the main course, but Lyla intended to make it memorable.

A duel ensued when Cal pushed himself forward to enjoy more of her mouth, to which she responded by pulling back. He gripped her hair again and face fucked her properly, making her gulp and sputter. He grinned savagely, enjoying the thought of using one of Lilith’s own as a fuck toy. When he withdrew, long ropes of saliva trailed between them. She breathed in heavily, chest heaving.

“Ready?” he asked. She nodded.

“How do you want me?” she asked. Cal replied by firmly pressing her back until she fell to the ground. She took the hint and splayed her legs. The rough treatment had clearly excited her more than she let on. Her pussy was almost as wet as his cock was after getting serviced.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a demon,” he said, angling himself to plunge inside of her. She humped weakly, her needy body encouraging him to proceed. He decided to drag it out, rubbing his tip against her lips, saliva mingling with her juices in a decadent, carnal pool.

“Ugh, just fuck me already you stupid humaaah!~” He cut her off with a hard thrust. Her legs instinctually came up around him, hooking his thighs. Cal took that as license to stuff her further, not stopping until she reached his base.

“You were made for getting fucked, weren’t you?” he asked.

“Y-yes.”

Cal bellowed a laugh. “Maybe it’s all your good for. Now take it, slut,” he said. The rhythm started slow, pushing deep each time to emphasize his power and control over her. Gradually, however, his own lusts took over. He hammered with a steady, needy pace. A tension in his body built up, needing release. He intended to do it whenever he felt like, unconcerned with her pleasure. If she liked the magic he offered, then she’d make the deal, regardless. If she didn’t, there were plenty of other demons out there. Maybe some who would offer their asses.

Bestial urges overtook him. He lifted up her legs and plunged himself down, pressing her into the floor in a mad drive toward his orgasm. She could do nothing but shiver and moan, hard human cock impaling her and leaving her insensate.

Or so it would appear.

“I…I want your seed, human!” she said, her breath heavy and hot.

“You’ll get it soon, ‘Viscountess’. I’m about to fill you to burst!” Precum pulsed liberally from his aching tip. His balls retracted, and he could feel that deep twinge of tension in his loins that begged to be loosed. He was so close…

“Oh I bet you are…Vincent Merideth Dittrich.”

His throat caught. All the blood drained out of his face. The seals around him winked out of existence, one after the other in a cascade failure of magical energy. He pulled out of her in a panic, breaking the final salt seal as he tripped over her leg. Lyla was free.

“My True Name? How?!” was all he could ask.

She nodded over at the far wall. “Your diploma is hanging on the wall, you idiot. I hope you enjoyed getting a degree in … business management, Vincey boy.”

Lyla got to her knees and crawled toward him. He tried to get away, but his mortal strength was no match for hers. She pinned him to the floor as he’d done to her. With the grace of a predator she lowered herself down onto his cock again. That tension returned, but mixed with something else. He felt like he was casting something, the magical energy in his body manifesting without a focus. She was stealing it! He writhed, knowing what was coming and unable to stop it.

“I bet you can feel it,” she said, laughing, “I’m turning your power into cum. I will drain your dick dry and leave you a pathetic, weak, exploitable mortal. And then…then I’ll start to play~”

There was no escape. He submitted himself to being used as a living dildo, trying to search for scraps of power he could hold onto. But with his True Name, Lyla literally owned him, body and soul. She bottomed out on his needy cock.

“Go ahead and cum your power away, ‘slut’—”

He could do nothing else. He gushed hot, thick cum into her clenching slit, the fluid infused with his hard earned energy. Each flex of his dick meant another year’s worth of training spilled inside her. It still felt rapturous. His toes curled, and a part of him didn’t want it to end. But it had to. He only had so much to give.

His energy and semen spent, Cal sagged to the floor. He felt so small, like the weak teenager he’d been before he’d opened his first arcane tome. Eyes fluttering shut, he could feel his consciousness dim. The last thing he remembered before passing out was her hot breath on his ear and the sound of words in a demonic tongue filling his mind.

xxxxx

He sat up bolt upright. Sweat soaked his sheets and his boxers, the only clothes he wore to bed. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he looked around. His bedroom at the top of the lighthouse. Everything where he had left it. Had he dreamed the entire encounter? It had all seemed so real …

Rolling out of bed, he stretched his limbs. The clock said it was morning, but when had he fallen asleep? Another question for later. He wandered over to the bathroom door to brush his teeth.

Locked. That was strange. He didn’t remember the bathroom having a lock. He jostled the knob further. It wouldn’t budge!

Cal heard a familiar feminine voice humming a tune. It had been a dream…it had to have been a dream. Some twisted, fetish-ridden nightmare from the deepest part of his mind. The voice was coming from outside his bedroom window. Hesitant to discover the truth, he drew open the blinds with shaking fingers.

Rather than the familiar ocean vista, the window held a stretched out vision of the room he was standing in. The perspective changed until it faced his dresser mirror, and the revelation of what it held made him gasp. The window was looking out on what his eyes were seeing. His real eyes.

Staring back at him was a human form, familiar but alien at the same time. He was as tall as Cal, the same relative body size. But the skin was deathly pale, like he’d never seen the sun. Painted sigils adorned his body, ones he recognized as transformative. The most prominent of which was an upside-down pentagram in the center of his chest. Silvery grey hair spilled down haphazardly all the way to the base of his spine. The fat distribution was all wrong as well. His ass was large, as were the thighs. His cock looked smaller, dangling between his legs with maybe three inches of fun. But the most drastic difference was his eyes: they burned an infernal red.

“Look who’s awake!” he saw his mouth say in Lyla’s voice.

“My body…give me back my body!” he cried, beating his fist on the glass. But the window wasn’t real. Neither was his room. It was all some psychological manifestation of his detached psyche. A waiting room from which he couldn’t escape.

Lyla laughed. “You silly mortal. I can’t believe you thought you could defeat me in a battle of wits and wills. Oh well, I hope you’re comfortable. You’ll be staying there for a while.”

He tried casting a spell. Nothing. Without access to his corporeal form, he couldn’t cast! He scrambled to come up with reasons for what she was doing wouldn’t work.

“You…you won’t get away with this. My colleagues will stop you!”

“You mean all those poor souls who put up with your arrogance? Nah, I think my first act in this body will be to apologize to them in person.” She let out a sultry moan, running a finger from her throat to her belly button. Cal felt it. He could still feel what his body could. “Mmm. So many lonely academics to corrupt. Pent up lusts held back for years…so much to feast on!”

The thought of his peers seeing his corrupted body, let alone doing anything sexual to it, made him want to scream in futile rage and embarrassment. All the people he’d berated as being his lesser…using him for their own pleasures. Stuffing his mouth to shut him up, cramming his tight ass full, making him beg for degrading treatment…

“What do I have to do to stop this?” he asked weakly.

“Oh there’s nothing you can do to keep me from debasing you. But tell you what: if you sit there like a good little boy and don’t complain, I’ll give you your body back, eventually. I won’t promise it’ll be quite the same as it was before, but…you’ll be in charge. That’s a long, long time away, sweetie,” she said, wrapping a hand around her dick. Pumping it lightly made it stiffen in seconds. Cal felt it too, and watched with horror that his mental self could also get a hard-on in his cranial prison.

“W-what are you doing?!”

“Getting off to myself, what does it look like?” she said, making a slutty face that stressed how big she’d made his lips. Disgusted, he realized they would feel wonderful around a cock. “Oh we’re going to have so much fun. And I’ll record it, too. Post it online, show everyone what a slut I am. Then I’ll call up your old girlfriends and turn them into sluts too. Won’t that be fun? What better way to reunite after a long absence then on opposite sides of a big, throbbing cock. Ooh…oh just thinking about it … mmnf—”

She came, spraying thick ropes of glowing white spunk onto the mirror. Cal came in sympathetic reflex, pumping a much less impressive load into his boxers. Quivering in helpless pleasure, he realized just how desperate his situation was. No matter how appalled and disgusted he became with her actions in his stead, if she enjoyed them, he would find them pleasurable.

Defeated, he sagged back onto his bed. Lyla scraped off the spent cum from the mirror and let it slide down her tongue. Cal could feel the bitter, salty taste tingle the back of his throat.

“Mmm—” Lyla purred. “I win. And I get as much of your seed as I want! And you get my power, of course. You’re just not the one controlling it.” She snapped her fingers, and a disgustingly revealing outfit appeared on her body. Booty shorts, stockings, and a crop top that said “BAD BITCH” in bedazzled letters. She ascended the stairs to his foyer, slipped on a pair of jogging shoes, and stepped out into the mortal world.

He had been right after all. It was a nightmare…and it was only just beginning.

THE END