Chapter 1: In the Beginning...
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Magic, Fiction, Horror, Paranormal, Incest, Mother, Son,
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1: In the Beginning... - A son with a succubus fetish gets his hands on a tome that actually works, leading to some unintended results with his mother.
I'd always been fascinated with mythology. When I was younger, I'd plagued my mother to take me to the library, where I devoured everything in the Junior and Young Adult Fiction section about the Greeks, the Norse, and even Indian mythology. But my favourite stories were always those about angels and demons- clear-cut good guys and bad guys. My mother had grown up in a strict family, and when she'd fallen pregnant at sixteen, they'd cut her off and the guy she'd been with had dumped her, leaving her to care for herself and me as we both grew up. Needless to say, anything related to her old religion was something of a sore spot, so books about angels and demons were a rare treat, reserved for special occasions or if I'd been particularly well behaved.
Once I had an allowance, and later a job, I was free of that restriction. I bought comics, novels, and even philosophy books about the subject. I can remember being so disappointed when I found out that Warren Worthington- "Angel" in the X-Men- was just a mutant. But at least there were demons in there, even if they were weird. Any way, although I was interested in the mythology, I'd never particularly cared for the occult.
Eventually, I hit puberty. And we all know what that means; a fascination with sex. At that time, I figured out what the big deal was with succubi, stunning female demons who would show up in the middle of the night, screw the living shit out of men, and then vanish into the ... well, wherever it was they came from. Sure, at the time I dismissed it as the attempt of primitive humans to explain nocturnal emissions by blaming their sex dreams and ejaculations on some ethereal female spirit, but the idea was intriguing.
In time, succubi became my fantasy fixation. I found comics about them, read stories about them, and downloaded many pictures and hentai magazines featuring them. Honestly, I think I single-handedly kept Kleenex in business. Any way, I was in a second-hand book store one day, and I stumbled across an old, leather-bound book with cracking and yellowed pages. It purported to be about the summoning and control of demons, and there were illustrations of succubi in there. Lame, I know, but still it was on special for five bucks, and after I told the store clerk I was buying it for a University course on comparative religion, he even knocked it down to half-price. When I got it home I attempted to read it, discovering to my infinite frustration that many parts of the text were in other languages.
Translating different sections of the book became something of a hobby for me. My mother approved of it, because it kept me home and out of trouble- as well as learning other languages. Admittedly I wasn't going to be holding a conversation in Latin or Aramaic or whatever, but at least it meant I was quiet and not getting wasted on drugs or alcohol like many of my other fellow students. After about a year, I'd finally managed to translate the chapter about succubi, except for the last few pages. Written across about eight dead languages and some seriously butchered Ye Olde Anglish, it detailed the summoning of a succubus. The next few pages were in a combination of Sumerian Cuneiform A and what looked to be gibberish, and since both languages were untranslatable- one lost and the other nonexistent- I gave up on the project, which lay abandoned for almost half a year.
I had almost forgotten about my "great work," focusing instead on my uni course and part-time job. Until, at least, that one fateful night. I'd been out on a date that had gone horribly- at least for me. The girl I'd asked out was one I'd been attracted to for quite a while, and I'd learned she had finally broken up with her boyfriend. I spent the entire date listening to he complain about her former relationship and men in general, slowly coming to the conclusion that she was not over it yet. She was; in any case, something of a shrew- vicious towards the serving staff at the restaurant, making a scene when her steak arrived too cooked for her tastes. She had ordered a rare, and it was bleeding when she got it- I can only assume she prefers to eat meat that moos when it is poked, and generally being difficult. To dull my senses, I'd drank, far more heavily than I would otherwise have, but no so much that I was unable to make some excuses and depart. As I went to leave, she closed in for the kill, kissing me and groping at my groin. It had been a while for me, and this girl was incredibly gorgeous, even if she did have the personality of a harpy.
After breaking free of her clutches, I fled. But I was turned on- after all, I don't get fondled every day. Sighing, I reached for my old stand-by, firing up my computer and opening my succubus files. There, almost entirely out of memory, was the translation of the old book. Above my laptop was a small library, containing my favourite books- and the occult tome I'd bought so long ago. Shit, I thought, might as well give it a go, and when it doesn't work I can either jack off or go have a cold shower. Anything to pass the time.
Opening the file and the old book, I discovered that the spell (I snorted at the idea, too) would require only a few simple ingredients; something to mark off a summoning circle and pentagram, along with five candles and some of my blood. Weaving downstairs, I managed to dig the candles out of our blackout supply toolbox, and snagged one of my mother's sewing needles so I could draw some blood. Yeah, on the TV they always make that long, deep cut across their palms, but who's stupid enough to do that in real life, even when drunk? Nobody needs that kind of pain or the risks of cutting through the muscles that move your fingers ... but I digress. I got the gear, with the marking instrument being some conte crayons I had left over from a fine arts course at uni. Since my bedroom floor was tiled, I figured it would be reasonably easy to clean off with a mop and some ammonia, if worst came to worst.
Unfortunately, I wasn't as ninja-like as I ordinarily would have been. As I wobbled back up stairs, I tripped over and crashed down, with a loud thump the natural result. Gathering myself up, I heard my mother's bedside lamp click on, followed by her door opening. I jammed the kit down my pants, palming the needle, and tried to look innocent. Mum merely raised an eyebrow at my evidently less-than-sober state, then bid me a good night and closed her door. I all but ran back to my room, waiting for her stop moving. It took agonising minutes, as her door opened again and footsteps padded downstairs. Heart in my throat, I could hear her open the fridge and put the kettle on; soon enough, though, the dull sound of the some nature documentary started up. I reasoned that she'd settled in to watch something and have a late snack while she waited for the adrenaline jag of being woken so abruptly wore off.
Carefully marking out the summoning circle and transcribing the runes from the text took time, especially as I was making such an effort to be precise. By the time I'd finished I was nearly sober, with only the good-time buzz remaining. I briefly considered the notion of giving up and going to bed, but having marked out the circle and positioned the candles as directed I was but a quick chant and some blood away from getting the job done. I mentally shrugged, then continued. The ritual called for some blood to be on the wicks of each candle, which I dutifully followed, then lit them and mangled my way through the phonetics I'd taught myself to deal with the chants required, my voice barely above a whisper.
The spell finally complete, I stared at the circle. Smoking-hot hellbabe in three, two, one ... and nothing happened. As you'd expect. I mean, come on- demon summoning? With a book I'd found in a second-hand store? Really? What was I thinking? Sighing, I leaned down and blew the candles out one by one, then stretched out. Behind me, I heard footsteps; too late for me to reach and lock the door I'd stupidly left unlocked throughout. I scrambled to try and come up with an explanation for the mess on the floor, settling instead on slapping the light switch and hoping that, in the darkness, my mother wouldn't be able to make out what I'd done. My son, the demonologist; I could just imagine how that would play out.
Instead, I got the shock of my life. The hallway light, just outside my door, outlined the silhouette of my mother's naked form. She was reasonably good-looking, seeming three or four years short of her real age, but hardly a cover girl or pornstar. But still, she had stripped her nightgown off, and even though I couldn't make out her genitals, her bust was clearly visible, in all of its C-cup glory.
She cocked her head to one side, smirked, and husked "You rang?"
My jaw swung open. "Ah, mum, I- it's not what it looks like, I was just-" "Just nothing, darling," she interrupted, sashaying over to me and flipping on the lights. In full light, it was clear that she waxed her legs and shaved her pubic hair, with her labia very much visible and, to my somewhat inexperienced eyes, apparently engorged. Then I realised I was staring- no, wait, make that leering- at my mother's cunt. So wrong. "You called. I am here." And with that, she breathed deeply, thrusting her chest out and reaching for my belt. Snapping out of my lust-fogged haze, I backed away, meeting her gaze.
My mother ... wasn't in there. There was something about the eyes; gone was the care and compassion I usually found, replaced with something ancient. Something ... predatory. Primal. But promising the fulfilment of carnal desires I could only barely begin to imagine, oh yes. And instead of the slightly pursed lips, her mouth had a cruel set to it. I continued inching backwards until I hit the wall, coming out with a weak "Mum, what? I- you- that is-"
Again she cut me off, snapping "Your mother is not here, Summoner. In accordance with the rite you performed, I have taken residence in this shell. Since it was your desire to mate with this frame, we should not tarry. My time this night is short, and long have I been denied the pleasures-" at this, she licked her lips, sending a shiver down my spine "-of mortal flesh."
My mind raced. Considering the facts rationally, I came to the only possible conclusion; my mother had stumbled across me attempting to bring something forth, and had decided that the best way to punish me would be to give me a fright, to remind me that her childhood beliefs were not to be bought up. Let alone done in such a way that made a mess of my floor, in her house.
Having come up with a plausible explanation, I relaxed. With a little gulp, I began my apologies. "I'm sorry. I had a bad night, and I was drunk, and well, you know, I just thought it would be something to do. I'm sorry about the mess. I'll clean the floor first thing in the morning, I promise."
The superior look on her face turned into a smug expression. She advanced on my, holding my gaze, until she had her body pressed against me, its heat radiating. I felt her hand on my crotch; I was sporting a tremendous erection. A boner. For my mother. How charming. Her other hand brushed at my face, before grabbing my jaw and locking my eyes on hers.
"Your mother appreciates a clean and tidy house. I am sure she will be pleased that you have such a regard for her standards of cleanliness. But again, my Summoner, she is not here. I must confess, this is unique even for one of my kind. We have been called for the forbidden fruit in the past- an adulterous man seeking the wife of another, a noble desiring the daughter of some enemy. One of my sisters was even called up by that dolt Crowley because he wanted to see a woman mate with a goat. But a son calling one of us to animate his mother? Ah, delicious. Such a taboo."
I swallowed, my throat dry. "Still you do not believe." She released my head and the hand rubbing at my cock was gone. Her eyes alighted on the open book, and she turned slowly, gracefully, making sure to give me a good view of her backside and hips as she swayed seductively over to my desk. Leaning forward to get a better view of the mouldering tome, she parted her legs, allowing me to clearly see that she had flowered open slightly with her own arousal, moisture glistening on the lips of her sex. She closed the book with a snap, whirling to face me. With the sudden movement, her breasts jiggled; I forced my eyes up from my mother's most intimate, most forbidden places, setting my field of view firmly on her face. She eyed me coyly, dropping her own gaze to my visible erection.
"So, you found one of the old books. We thought we had accounted for all of these a century ago and more. But not an original, I fancy. A copy only, and one you cannot read at that." She sashayed forwards, her hips weaving hypnotically. Standing before me, she opened the chapter on succubi, holding it open to face me in both hands and allowing it to rest on her breasts, heaving with each breath for my obvious benefit. Despite myself, my cock lurched. I could feel the familiar, if unwelcome, wetness of pre-cum in my pants. Enthralled, I watched as one of her delicate fingers traced over the words as her explanation continued.
"The rite you used is a beacon to my sisters and I. The circle draws us in, the runes binding us to the flesh the Summoner lusts after. Thus guided, we inhabit the mortal shell, making it possible for the Summoner to mate-" at this she paused, a sly look emerging on her face as she assessed my reaction "to fuck, should I say, with. Ah, but I see your understanding of the book is limited, mortal. Such a pity. In your haste to bed your mother- and I again congratulate you on your sense of ambition- you failed to constrain me fully. Properly. Yes, by the terms of the rite I am bound to this flesh, but not compelled to obey you completely."
She snarled, her face a sudden mask of rage beyond belief. She held the book out in one hand, glaring at it as though the inanimate object was her most hated foe. Then, with a whiff of rotten eggs, a sickly green flame began to lick at the bottom of the book, consuming it utterly within seconds and leaving only a trace of ash behind.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit, I thought desperately. It actually worked. A succubus. But it's possessed my mother, and it's pissed and the only thing I could have used against it just went up in smoke.
"So, mortal. You have given this flesh over to me. Now I am here. And what shall we do? It appears as though you are ready to fuck. I know I am, and what I wish this shell provides." One hand snaked down to her parted thighs, fingers opening her labia and coming away wet. "So. Strip. And begin. I have not enjoyed such sport in centuries."
I desperately tried to come up with a way out. Her foot tapped the floor impatiently. "I, uh. It's just that. Um..." I trailed off. A look of comprehension dawned on her face. "Ah, I think I see. You though to summon a succubus directly, turn her into your plaything." At this, she laughed- and not with mirth, either, but some cutting sound that had the warmth of deep winter. "This text could never have taught you that. Long ago, my sisters and I hunted down and eradicated every mortal with such ability. It was in the blood, you know, the scions of Solomon. The best any have managed since is the rite you used, one that allows us to possess a mortal host and use it. Well, well. This is interesting. I presume you do not wish to fuck your mother after all, human?"
I shook my head. My erection disagreed pretty strongly, but give me a break- I was dealing with a succubus here, a creature that defined sexuality. I even managed to croak out a "No."
Her face settled again into its haughty mask. "Well, then. You have a choice, human. Once bound to the mortal realm, I can sustain myself only on sexual energy, or the direct consumption of a soul. So it would appear you have a few options. One, I could send your mother's spirit to oblivion. Two, I could send your spirit to oblivion. Third, I could walk out of here as I am now and sate myself on the excesses of strangers. But from this shell's mind, I see that there are a number of conditions that now afflict those who indulge with too many partners, too incautiously. Perhaps I could make a game of it, attempt to acquire all of them before this frame dies from one or the other. Or..." she stopped, waiting on me to fill in the blanks. "Or I could do what you say and keep my mother's spirit and body safe."
She nodded. So that was it, then. Either I fucked my mother's body- whether she was in the driver's seat or not- or I handed my mother's body and life over to a demoness. Or I let her kill me. The lesser of four evils, I thought. Play for time. If demons can be summoned, they can be exorcised as well. "Could I ... could I have some time to think about it?"
She arched an eyebrow, contempt clear on her face. "Very well. You may have one hour, mortal. Should you have come to no decision by then, I will consume your soul and then your mother's, and then take care of my own desires. Think well, and think fast." She turned, shimmying her hips deliberately as she walked out of my room. At the door, she looked back over her shoulder, noting that my eyes had settled on her rump. The cruel smirk made a return, and she flounced off for my mother's bedroom.
I looked at the clock. 1: 05 am. To be on the safe side, I had to decide by two o'clock. If I took any longer, she might just kill me and go on her way just for the fun of it. The reality was clear; if I wanted to have any chance to free my mother from the demon that wore her body like some kind of grotesque costume, I was going to have to fuck ... no. I couldn't just fuck my mother. It would have to be fast, a quickie, wham-bam-no-thank-you-m'am, and then have done. With any luck after that, either the spell would end and send her home, or I'd find some way to free her once the sun came up. Still, the notion of sticking my cock into the- and I couldn't think of it as cunt or pussy- vagina I had come from wasn't overly appealing. I stared at the clock whilst I wasted time, watching it inch closer and closer to 1:55. With not much left on her offer, I could delay no longer and padded down the hall to my mother's room.
It was a mess. Clothes and lingerie littered the floor; the succubus had evidently been busy. I poked my head into the walk-in wardrobe, finding her standing there with two dresses, one in each hand. She was wearing black, lacy undergarments- a balconette bra and matching pair of briefs, with a black lace garter belt and sheer black stockings. Whirling, she held up one dress to her body and then the other. "Well, Summoner? Which would you prefer?"
"Neither." I cleared my throat. "I've come to let you know about my decision. I ... agree to the last option." My voice cracked despite my best attempts to be strong, the last words all but a whisper. She squealed with delight, dropping the dresses. The bra had done some interesting things to her bust line, and as she walked towards me she threatened to spill out of the top. Time slowed to a crawl, and I idly noted that she'd put her panties on over the garter belt's straps, allowing her to remove them without the hassle of dealing with the belt, straps, or stockings.
"Come, then, Summoner. Or should I say-" her demeanour changed, mimicking the owner of her 'shell' "-son. This body hasn't been fucked for years. I certainly haven't had any in almost three centuries. You're in for it now, boy." Saying that, she brushed past me, making a beeline for my mother's double bed. Without fuss, she slipped her panties off and opened her legs, propping herself up on one elbow and eyeing me expectantly. I hung my head, shuffling forward. When I made no attempt to undress, she sighed and began to unbutton my shirt and unclasp my belt; soon enough, I stood before my mother as naked as the first time she'd seen me. Of course, back then she wasn't dressed like a Victoria's Secret model, and I certainly wasn't full-grown.
Not that I was now, either. Funnily enough, being coerced into having sex with a succubus who's possessed your mother's body doesn't really do much for the libido. I had been hoping to use that to play for time, but I was up against a creature that had been around since God only knew when, and which had been summoned to slake the lusts of generations of men. I had no chance; she knew exactly what to do to get me turned on. It took only a few moments for her to fondle me into hardness, occasionally slipping me into her mouth for variety. All too soon, I was erect.
Having achieved her goal, she scuttled backwards on the bed, lying down in front of me with her legs parted. Liking her upper lip, she slid one hand down to her pubis, using her first and third fingers to open her labia whilst the middle finger rubbed at her engorged clitoris. Her other hand beckoned me forwards. Taking a deep breath, I got down on all fours and inched my way up the bed, until we were face to face, my weight supported on my arms. I stared resolutely at the bed head, not daring to look any further upon the naked form of my mother. My penis, bobbing with arousal, hung just in front of her genitals, and as it jerked up and down, I could feel it brushing against her lips, silky and slick with her own fluids. Without warning, her hands grabbed my hips and dragged them at an oblique angle, spearing deeply into her. Gasping, I looked down in shock; my mother's face was arranged into a semblance of amusement, the succubus within obviously enjoying what she was doing.
"Well," she began "are you going to do this? Are you going to be a good boy and fuck your mother? Come in her cunt?" She giggled, sending vibrations up my shaft. Unconsciously, I began to move, sliding to full depth within her, then back out. Realising what I'd done, I screwed my eyes shut, desperately tried to think about anything other than what I was doing or Oedipal myths, and began to piston mechanically back and forth within my mother's vagina.
There is one benefit to being a male when you have sex; even when it's not good, even when you don't want to enjoy it, arriving at orgasm is always easy. After a couple of minutes pounding away, and as long as you make no attempt to prolong the experience, you can quite easily finish the deed. It took minutes; it took an eternity, but eventually I was there. My balls contracted, my muscles clenched, I rammed my cock as deeply as I could within my mother's body, and semen flowed from me into her. Belatedly, I realised that I had not worn a condom and was unsure as to my mother's regime for contraception- what son goes there? Better by far to leave it a mystery.
Groaning, I rolled off her and opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling as my cock deflated. The experience had been, mercifully, brief. Turning my body away from my mother, I sat up and made to leave. Behind me, I could feel weight begin to shift; before I could stand, I could feel my mother's breasts against my back, pebbled nipples hard enough to be felt even through the lacy bra pressing against me. One hand came to rest on my left shoulder, whilst her face appeared in the periphery of my right eye. The other hand snaked beneath my right arm, fondling my sodden penis.
"Come, now, Summoner. That little performance was dreadful. I've had a better effort from octogenarians! I know you can improve. And, with my guidance, you shall." With that, she murmured an indistinct phrase, running a fingernail underneath my cock, base to tip. My head swam, and a trace of rotten egg once again fouled the air. Abruptly, I was hard again, my body fired with a lust I'd never known before, even during my most ferocious... "personal sessions" in the past. Strong hands leaned me back against the bed, and my mother's form straddled me. She brushed her fingers across my temple, murmuring again; the nausea abated and everything came into sudden focus. My mother, kneeling above me, her labia caressing my glans, still wearing the black balconette bra, garter belt, and sheer black nylons. I tensed, preparing to scurry backwards and flee, but she was faster. With a single, practiced movement she dropped down, my cock angling perfectly within her soaked sex. In an instant, I was fully enveloped, our groins solidly pressed together.
She looked down at me with disapproval, clearly knowing I had wanted to escape. "Now, mortal. Just think. This is an experience unique in the history of mankind. Other sons may mate with their mothers, by the choice of one or both, but their sex will never scale the heights ours shall. No mortal has my experience, nor my ability to control herself." The vagina clutching at me rippled rhythmically in time with her words, and despite myself I began to move against her, if only slightly. She smiled down at me, this being the first time she had done so with any other emotion behind the human expression aside from genuine happiness.
If you've ever seen porn, women in the cowgirl position will almost always bounce up and down on their co-star. I had half-expected her to do that, but instead she began to move her hips in what, side-on, would have been a circular motion. At the apex of the circle, my glans was barely held in by her labia minora, whilst at its nadir I was encompassed fully by the same channel I had once been expelled from. Each time our groins met, she would grind herself heavily into me, stimulating her clitoris. And all the while, the muscles inside her squeezed, heightening the sensation of my cock sliding over the striations of her blood-gorged vagina. My pubic hair was thickly matted, soaked through with a mixture of my mother's lubricant and the semen I had deposited within her mere moments ago. Coming to what passed for my senses that night, I steeled myself and stopped moving-stopped fucking my mother. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes. She giggled above me, and her weight shifted slightly; I heard her unclasp the bra. Seconds later, something soft and light hit me in the face, whilst one of my nipples was grabbed and violently twisted. "Eyes open, mortal. I am a mistress of not just pleasure, but pain. Cross me again, and it will not be to your liking."
My head, held at an angle by the pillows, had an unwelcome effect on my field of view; as soon as I obeyed her and opened my eyes, I was rewarded with the sight of my cock vanishing between my mother's thighs. As my gaze travelled upwards, it flitted to my mother's unconstrained breasts, jiggling with every movement and flushed pink with arousal. Finally, my eyes settled on her face, ecstatic with pleasure derived from fucking. "Shall we begin your education, son? In this position, most of my stimulation is derived from my own movements. But you can contribute. Give me your hands."
Too shaken to rail against her, held my hands up; she took them in hers, guiding them to my mother's breasts. Deft fingers positioned them, cupping them at the sides and cradling most of their mass in the palm of my hand, whilst my thumb was placed over her aureoles and nipples. "Now, rub at them in circles."
I obeyed. My thumbs stroked in circles that reminded me of scrolling through songs on my iPod. Seizing on the mental image, I tried to focus on it, tried to think of being anywhere else, doing anything else, aside from being balls deep in my mother whilst a demoness instructed me in the finer arts of fucking. Although my eyes were fixed on a point just behind my mother's left ear on the far wall of her bedroom, I could see her eyelids flutter briefly and then close, a hoarse moan of sensuous pleasure escaping her mouth. She arched her back, craned her neck, and aligned her face with the ceiling.
Having obviously achieved her objective, the succubus' borrowed voice was no longer cutting and cruel, but deep, rich, and vibrant, smoky with arousal and clearly pitched to inflame the listener with desire. "Yesss," she drew out the syllable, rocking back and forth atop me "very good. Now, pinch my nipples. Gently. Then slowly roll them between your fingers." I gingerly gripped the points of her breasts between thumb and forefinger, squeezing them lightly and running my thumbs upwards, dragging the hardened nipples into a slight turn. "Oh, yes. Very good. You are an adept student, I perceive." She gasped for breath, the flush along her neck and bust deepening by the moment, grinding herself onto me as hard as she could. Moaning again, she slid up my shaft, the glans popping out from between her inner lips, still cradled within her sodden gash at the entrance to her vagina. Her head snapped back down, locking her eyes with mine. "Slide your hands down my sides, slowly, gently ... yes, that's it ... and grab your mother's hips. Ah, such a good boy. Such a good son, to slake mummy's lusts with his own cock. Now, grab my hips. Harder," another moan escaped her, sending another unwanted surge of lust through me "and fuck me. Fuck your mother. I want you to fuck me really hard, as fast and savage as you can. And do it right, or suffer the consequences."
Not wanting to test her resolve, I again obeyed, dragging her down on top of me as I thrust upwards, a parody of the movement that had begun this incestuous union what felt like an eternity ago. I slammed into her time and again, so furiously that my balls swung up with each stroke, slapping against her body. For her part, the succubus moved her hands to my mother's breasts, pinching, rubbing, and rolling her nipples whilst her eyes slowly closed with dreamy pleasure and her face turned back towards the ceiling. Her breaths quickened, becoming short, sharp pants, and she gasped out "That's it. That's my stud. Fuck me. Fuck your mother, that's it." Suddenly, she moaned, long and low, and her entire body stiffened. Her vagina clamped down viciously onto me, and she shivered, jerking around violently whilst a new wave of slick fluid coated my shaft. An orgasm, I thought. Did the succubus come, or was it my mother? Did it even matter?
As I ruminated on the evident culmination of pleasure in the body above me, I realised that I had not come myself. Her heavy-lidded eyes half opened and still gasping for breath, the succubus completed my thought for me. "No. No, you have not, my Summoner. My son. You will not enjoy your release until I have been sated. Which brings us to our next lesson." Swinging one leg up and over me, she dragged herself off me, revealing a cock glistening with our shared juices. She turned, dropping onto all fours and presented my mother's sex to me. For the first time, I examined it in full light; a vertical gash with thick, meaty outer lips that neatly concealed the more petite inner lips, a pair of thin pink folds that hid the entrance to her vagina from view. The small bud of my mother's clitoris protruded visibly from its hood, and I could still make out the mucous that bound my seed together, seeping from within her forbidden well. It was taboo. It was hypnotic.
She broke the spell, turning her head to face me as best she could. "Enjoying the view? Dazzling, isn't it?" She wriggled her backside at me, causing one of the strands of my come to shake free, a long clear strand that dripped towards the bed, evidence of our Oedipal union. She gathered my mother's tresses in one hand, the other supporting her weight. "But perhaps we can save our amateur gynaecology for another time, yes? It is your turn to do the work. Kneel behind me." I hastened to comply, scrambling onto my knees and fighting off the tangle of sheets that threatened to delay my progress. "My, my. We are eager. Now," she said, holding out her hair to me "take this. Make a fist, and wrap my hair in your hand. Good, good. Now pull on it. Slightly ... yes. And put your other hand halfway up my side. Good. Trace your fingers across my ribs, down to my hips. Cup my breast. Now grab it. Squeeze as hard as you can. And again ... you've got it. Now, when you fuck me this time, set a rhythm and maintain it. All the way in, then back so only your head is within me. Are you ready? Are you ready to fuck mummy?"
Her free hand appeared between my mother's spread legs, feeling about for my cock. I obliged her, moving in closer and aiming the tip of my penis into her palm. Her strong, sure grip guided it deftly to her cleft, rubbing me up and down a few times to both coat my glans in lubricant and part the petals of her labia minora, before settling me against the opening of her vagina. Unbidden, overwhelmed by the moment, I surged into her, using my grip on her hair and her hip to pull her back against me. As she'd directed, I thrust back and forth, sawing my cock into her clutching depths whilst I applied pain through pulling on her hair and crushing her breast and pleasure by applying pressure to her g-spot and slamming my balls against her clitoris. For a few moments, it seemed as though my readiness had taken her by surprise as she remained stock-still, but soon she began to move against me, arching her back to vary the angle at which I speared her and making soft, mewling sounds of satisfaction. At length, she came, her body again tensing and quivering, before she slumped forwards, sliding off my erection and stretching out on the bed. I followed her, collapsing on top of my mother's body, my cock nestled between her cheeks. We stayed like that for a few moments, gathering our breath, before she began to stir. Despite my weight, she was able to easily wriggle free from beneath me. I rolled on to my side, following her movements as she knelt at the head of my mother's bed, re- arranging the pillows to her satisfaction and then lying on her back.
Crooking her finger at me, she gestured for me to repeat my first, failed attempt to bed my mother's body. Again, I wordlessly complied, bringing my cock to her entrance and supporting my weight on my arms. My face hung in front of hers, waiting for her direction. She smiled sleepily. "An adept pupil indeed. You may be inexperienced, but you are quick to obey. Let us see how well you learn from your mistakes. What, in your estimation, did you do wrong the first time you fucked me like this?"
I grimaced. Up until this point, I'd been able to shield myself from involvement by disassociating myself from the act; like some war criminal, I attempted to avoid the blame for my actions by explaining to myself that I had merely followed orders, that it wasn't really my fault. The succubus knew exactly what it was going, how to enfranchise myself in my own damnation. "I closed my eyes. And I just tried to get it over with."
She nodded decisively, obviously pleased with the frankness of my answer. "And now, you shall learn how to mate with a woman properly. I have shown you how to be servile, how to dominate a woman, and now you shall begin to learn how to take her with intimacy. First, rest your weight upon me. Work your penis just inside of my sheath. Now, cradle my face in your hands and kiss me."
I complied with her instructions, inserting my glans within my mother again. Taking her head in my hands, I pressed my lips against hers, giving her a chaste kiss completely at odds with the lust the succubus had kindled within me and the horrifically incestuous joining of my cock with my mother's cunt. Her hands snaked behind me, tracing meandering patterns across her back, then shifting up to clasp my head in a mirror to what I was doing, tangling my hair into curls with her fingers. Her mouth pursed into a thin line, then opened, parting my lips and admitting her questing tongue. Her face moved on an angle, her nose brushing against mine, and an appreciative moan of pleasure set my cheeks to vibrating. Her hands slid down my back, nails lightly scratching against my skin, coming to rest on my hips. Flexing her spine and pulling me down, she buried me fully inside her, all the while lashing her tongue around inside my mouth. As I fought to get enough oxygen to overcome the potent mix of desire and pleasure clouding my thoughts, her strong grip guided my hips in a slow, circular motion that pressed my penis up against the top of her clutching, wet vagina. Panting, she ground her clitoris against the base of my cock.
She sank her head back into the pillows, breaking the kiss and affording me a chance to breathe freely. Her hands gently caressed my sides and ribs, whilst I continued to slide my cock lazily in and out of her channel according to the slow rhythm she had set. Her hands gripped the base of my neck, pulling me down so that her mouth was against he ear. I could hear the little moans and susurrations of her quickened breath, indicating the pleasure she was finding as I fucked her according to the instructions she had given. Whispering, her voice rasping with arousal, she issued me new orders; "Blow in my ear. Gently, now. Slip your hands down from my head, trace along my collarbones, and cup my breasts." As I cradled my mother's breasts, I rubbed my thumbs across her aureoles and nipples, recalling her earlier wishes. She moaned, sensuously arching her back, weaving her hips from side to side, and abruptly dug her nails in to my shoulders, grinding the juncture of her legs against my groin. "Ahhh, yessss," she hissed "just like that. That's it, fuck your mother. Pinch them, tease my nipples. Kiss me behind the ear ... ohhh, yes, that's good ... and now at the point of my jaw ... and now I want you to lave along my jaw-line with your tongue to my chin, then kiss me. Open-mouthed, with tongue."
My mind completely fogged now by lust, I obeyed, inching my tongue along her jaw-line. She tasted sweet, but slightly salty- the result, I supposed, of her sweat during our fucking. I kissed my mother's lips as I had been directed to, swirling my tongue inside her mouth the way she had done to me before. Unbidden, I clamped down on her breasts with my hands, squeezing both with the same force I had used whilst taking her from behind, thrusting home inside of my mother's vagina and holding myself there, grinding my groin into hers. Another moan escaped her, again vibrating my cheeks. She broke the kiss, her hands slipping between us as she pushed my chest up, bringing us face to face as I resumed the rhythm, fucking her slowly, gently. Her eyes were half-closed with pleasure, her mouth slightly parted. She husked out her final instructions for this position, telling me to maintain the pace, stimulation of her breasts, and sensuous kisses until she orgasmed. Once she began to climax, I was to abandon the languid method of fucking her she had established, ramping up the pace by savagely fucking my cock in and out of my mother. Throughout, I was to squeeze and twist her breasts as hard as I could. When I began my own orgasm, I was to cup her face in my hands, kiss her open-mouthed, and bury my cock within her until it finished spewing my load.
I maintained the slow motion of my hips, rubbing and pinching her nipples whilst I kissed her deeply. This time, I moaned with pleasure, setting her cheeks to dancing as she writhed against me. It did not take her long to reach her peak; the stimulation she had me providing her was clearly tailored to perfectly match her desires. As her cunt began to contract and her body shook with the first tremors of her orgasm, I reared up above her, grimly wrapping both hands around the breasts that had once nurtured me, violently squeezing them and wrenching them as she had ordered. She broke the kiss again, maintaining suction on my lower lip and treating me to a gentle bite before letting go, moaning and thrashing around beneath me as the full force of her orgasm arrived. I abandoned the slow rolling of my hips, spearing balls deep within my mother's pussy. Time and time again I slammed into her, jerked back until I risked slipping out of her in order to gain enough leverage and space to pound at her tight, wet gash. Perhaps inspired by her vocal appreciation of my newfound skills, perhaps freed from whatever compulsion she had placed upon me before, I felt my own orgasm begin, waves of ecstasy sweeping through me. As I felt my balls tighten, I slid home once more, ramming my groin into hers and all my weight to bear against her hips. So swept up in the moment, I almost forgot to kiss my mother as I had been instructed to, an oversight I hastily remedied. The bed creaked in protest at this treatment, and I as I began to send ropes of semen into my mother's depths; she raked her nails down my back, just heavily enough to break the skin but not deeply enough to draw blood. The contrast of pain and pleasure was mind-blowing; spent, I sagged against her.
We lay together like that a while, my cock slowly losing its hardness within my mother's slick, semen-filled channel. Eventually, its softness conspired with her tightness to expel it, coated with a vile mix of our juices. Finally, she sighed, pushing at one shoulder to signal me to roll off her. I found her other arm cradling me; she wrapped herself around me, moulding my mother's naked form to my own, twining our legs together. I could feel her drenched, and sticky groin against one thigh. She slowly rubbed herself up and down against me, minute motions stimulating the clitoris I could feel against me; not enough to derive any real pleasure, but enough to extend the euphoric afterglow of our sex. She breathed deeply, preparing to speak again.
"Done well, mortal. Enough to begin with, in any case. We shall have to work on your skills over time, but I see enough potential in you to keep me well-fed." Over time? Keep me well fed? My mouth dried, my throat constricted. My voice cracked as I spoke for the first time in what seemed like days. "Over time? I thought..." I trailed off, brokenly.
"That I would be a one-night stand? Not likely, mortal. The rite you used is intended for more than that. It draws one of us to this world, gives us flesh to animate according to our will. It allows for the mortal who conducts the rite to claim that flesh we wear at night to consummate their desires, to sate themselves on the form they find so ... alluring. As I told you earlier, it was created to claim forbidden fruit- the married, the hostile, the unwilling. And how do you think that was achieved?"
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. My heart sank, gripped by the horror of an ironclad certainty. Contraception, as a socially acceptable behaviour, was a recent phenomenon. In the past, a fallen woman would either be forced to marry the father of their bastard child, or to face the shame and scorn of life as a mother out of wedlock. "Pregnancy," I whispered, the blood draining from my face.
"Just so." She chuckled. "But I have some good news for you. This flesh has been tampered with. It has undergone some form of barbaric mutilation; the ducts along which its eggs should pass fused shut with a metallic clip. It will take some time, even with my assistance, for it to dissolve, for the scars within that delicate tissue to heal. Whilst I do this, we shall work on your sexual skills, you and I. Each night, you shall come to this room and find a wanton harlot within it, treating you to pleasures of the flesh you can scarcely imagine. And every morning, I will relinquish my hold on your mother, returning her to you from sunrise to sunset. A most charitable agreement, yes?"
The room seemed to be spinning. I felt sick at the thought of not just having to service the succubus each night, but at the sure and certain knowledge that I would eventually impregnate my mother. My own child, and a new sibling, all in one nightmarish package. Licking my lips and swallowing, I ventured "The child?"
She smiled warmly, obviously thinking she had me in the palm of her hand. "A daughter. Always a girl. And when your child comes, you will have choices. Because of the circumstances of its conception, it shall be born alive and well, but without a soul. You will be able to decide between freeing me from this fleshly prison-" she gestured at my mother's sweat-drenched form- "and giving me a body of my own for the first time in many ages. Or you may consider using its blood to seal an infernal contract, one that would extend your life for many centuries and grant you wealth beyond avarice along with as many nubile whorelings to cavort with as you could possibly desire. Or," she shrugged, causing my mother's breasts to bobble about hypnotically "it can simply be allowed to expire."
"So either way, I'm stuck with you? As my daughter or my mistress as long as I live?" Her smile broadened. "Aye, you have the right of it. But there is no rush to decide. It will take me a few moons to work the metal away, and a week or so after that to make this womb ripe for seeding." Her hand traced idle designs across my chest, the sensation maddening in its distraction. "But think on it, my Summoner, my son. Such a grand adventure. Seeding your own life-bringer, something rare beyond price. Instruction in the sensual arts from an accomplished mistress. And the opportunity to live for many lifespans in a life of luxury and excess." She sighed, deeply, then ventured a quick kiss, no tongue, on my lips. "There is much time for you to decide. But for now, this shell grows weary. I shall place it in a deep slumber, and as I shall for every morning onwards, it will awaken with no knowledge of what transpired in the darkness, blindly ignorant of the mess made between its legs or in its nest." She closed her eyes, snuggled in closer, and dropped her voice to a whisper. "But for now, clasp me tight. This flesh has been denied touch for so long, and I delight in its sensations." Her breathing began to slow; my mother's body was slipping into sleep.
"Wait," I blurted. "What, um ... who ... what should I call you?"
A smile crossed her lips. Her last breath before her body went still conveyed a single word; "Liira."
As soon as I was sure my mother was asleep, I disentangled myself from her grasp and escaped the sheets that had been wrapped around us. The bed was a mess, the bedclothes all over the place and soaked through here and there with evidence of our incestuous congress. The floor was covered in rumpled clothes; although Lira had said my mother would pay it no mind, I had my doubts. As I stood there, my thoughts as jumbled as the environment I was in, my gaze came to rest upon my mother; a satisfied smile curved her lips, and her breasts rose and fell softly as her chest rose and fell with the gentle breath of sleep. Her legs were still slightly apart, affording me a view of her now-vacant sex; no longer engorged with blood, her outer lips had flowered shut, hiding her clitoris and inner lips. Her thighs were covered in a rapidly drying film of secretions, and her nylons had done their best to sop up the excess, stained down almost to her knees with their effort. Snapping out of my reverie, I stopped myself from staring at the naked form of my mother, covered her with a sheet against the chill of the few hours of night remaining, and slipped out as quietly as I could manage, remembering to take my clothing with me as I fled.
Too keyed up to sleep, I used the downstairs en suite to shower, sluicing away the scent of illicit sex. I stayed under the water until it began to run cold, knowing that the gas heater would re-fill the hot water within a few hours. Since my mother usually rose between seven and eight on a Saturday, I gambled that I'd have at least that long before she needed to shower this morning. Dressing sombrely, I boiled the kettle and made do with a breakfast of black coffee, unsure whether I could stomach anything more substantial. At six o'clock it was still too early to do anything, so I used the boiling water and some cloudy ammonia to clean the tiles in my bedroom, documenting the arrangement of the summoning circle with my mobile phone's camera before I washed it away. By the time I managed to get the tiles clear of the conte's marks, my knees and back were aching. Struggling to my feet, I checked the clock; six thirty. Still early for a Saturday, but better now than it was before to leave. I scribbled a note about going out for the morning and left it beneath my mother's favourite mug, knowing she would read it when she came down for breakfast, then slipped out through the side door into the car port. I quietly fired up my second-hand Echo to life and drove off aimlessly into the dawn light.
With no destination in mind, I nevertheless found myself near the local Catholic Church. As I drove past, I noticed that they had an early Mass; the noticeboard out front said it began at six, and people were already beginning to stream out in small groups. Pulling up in the park across the road, I turned on the radio and waited for the crowds to abate; eventually, people stopped leaving the Church and the Priest closed its windows and doors, but did not lock up. According to a tradition I had read somewhere, whilst a Church might close its doors, they were almost never locked, representing their willingness to allow entry to anyone at any time. I watched the Priest go back to his presbytery, waited for a few minutes whilst I figured out what I was going to say, and then locked up and crossed the road.
After a few raps on the Priest's door, I elicited a response; a voice from within the small building told me he was on his way. He opened the front door, leaving the security screen in place; I must have looked terrible, because he immediately unlocked it too, ushering me in. He had me sit in the kitchenette whilst he prepared two cups of tea, asking a few general questions whilst he pottered about. I made up a false name, fidgeting nervously; I think he took me for a strung-out addict who'd come to him for help.
He sat down across from me, mumbled a prayer, and then asked me why I'd come. Well, Father, it's like this, I thought. I've been consorting with demons. I tried to summon a succubus, but it possessed my mother and then we fucked like animals in heat for a few hours. And once I was done screwing her, she told me I was going to get her pregnant, at which point I could either hand over my daughter to the succubus, or sacrifice her in some kind of unholy ritual. Belatedly, I realised he was waiting on a response; I gathered my jumbled thoughts, and said, "It's my mother, Father. I think she's possibly the sexiest woman on the face of the planet."
Wait, what? That hadn't been what I'd intended to say, at all. I think she's possessed, yes, the rest ... no. Just no. He gaped at me, aghast. I scrambled to try again, getting as far as "I mean, I think she's a fucking fox." My mouth snapped shut and then opened again. "Gnnngggghhh." I must have looked like a goldfish or something. In short, sharp bursts I managed to communicate that I needed some paper and a pen; he supplied them, notably more wary of me than he had been before I'd declared my incestuous lusts. Once I had the pen in my hands and a writing pad to use, I planned to write down some of what had happened; that I thought my mother was possessed, and that the demon was doing something to me, and that I needed some help. Instead, my hands shook so violently whenever I tried to write that I couldn't make anything legible; after a few attempts, my hands simply refused to grasp the pen, flinging it at the astonished Priest.
"I ... I ... I'm sorry, Father. I just have to go bang that harlot. No! I didn't mean that! I meant to say that bitch is insatiable!" Shit! It looked like my plan to call in divine reinforcement was borked. The Priest saved me the trouble of trying to tame my treacherous tongue and make a graceful exit by making a not-quite-threatening face, grabbing me by the upper arm, and hauling me to the front door. "I don't know what kind of sick game you are playing, boy, but I'll thank you not to abuse my charity again. Get out of here before I call the police, and don't come back until your need to be a comedian has passed." He slammed the door shut in my face, stomping down the hall. Although his voice was indistinct, I could tell that he wasn't happy. I beat a hasty retreat to my car.
What I needed was a litmus test. Driving down to the corner store, I shuffled up to the pay phone, making a call to a 24-hour grocer listed on the first page of the torn directory inside the booth. What I discovered confirmed my suspicions; I was able to discuss what stock they had, the freshness of their last grocery order, and the sports results from Friday night, but as soon as I tried to talk about the home situation, I started speaking ... well, gibberish, this time. Given the shocked silence after my first attempt and the call being terminated on the second, I inferred that whatever I had been speaking was in the clerk's native language, and wasn't pleasant.
Sighing, I trudged back to the car. Well, I couldn't talk about what was happening, but nothing was going to prevent me from researching it, right? I headed back to the second-hand book store where I'd bought the accursed tome, finding a bored-looking emo manning the front desk. "Can I, like, help you or something, man?" he enthused. Wow. Service with a smile. I pantomimed being a deaf mute, and after a frustrating round of charades managed to communicate to him that what I wanted was a book that had something in it like the pictures I showed him on my phone. Oddly, his respect for and attention to me went up a notch; possibly my dishevelled state, dark clothes, and interest in the occult convinced him that we were some form of kindred spirits, under-appreciated rebels taking a stand against the prevailing culture we lived in. Or some other existentialist I-am-a-special-and-unique-snowflake-type bullshit, I could care less.
Having reached the appropriate section, I perused what was on offer. Although I could clearly make out the diagrams and illustrations of each book, the writing within them was blurred and indistinct. The best way I can describe it is something like what happens when an optometrist begins the arduous "Is it better this way, or this way?" series of tests (after great frustration because they all look the bloody same) to prescribe a set of reading glasses. Reigning in my frustration, I piled up every book I thought might be relevant on the counter, paid with my credit card, and stormed off to my car, then to head home.
Once I got back, it was close to ten o'clock, and the house was eerily quiet. Ordinarily of a Saturday, my mother would put a music show on, turn it up loud, and conduct the housework whilst singing the wrong lyrics to songs she'd never heard. This morning, though, it was totally silent. Maybe she's asleep, I though a little desperately. Shucking my shoes, I crept across the tiles and on to the stairs, which failed my by groaning in protest as I climbed them. Mere seconds later, I heard my mother call my name, asking me to come in to her bedroom. The last place I ever wanted to go. I dumped the books on my bed, covered them with my sheets in lieu of taking the time to hide them properly, and returned to the scene of last night's incestuous debauchery.
What I found was worse than anything I could imagine was. My mother, still naked, still caked in our shared fluids, sat with her legs apart on the corner of the bed closest to the door. She had a look of absolute fear and dread in her eyes, and her right hand, hidden in the folds of the sheets when I'd entered, held a knife. Oh, shit. She remembers something from last night.
This time, the voice that came from my mother was not her own; smoky and sultry, it was clear that Liira was back in control. "Shame on you, mortal. Was I not generous to you? Was I not fair? Promising you your mother's freedom by day in exchange for her bondage and breeding by night?"
I had feared she would leap at me with the knife, but what she did was more terrifying still. Slowly, deliberately, Liira raised the knife to the hollow of my mother's throat, pressing the point in until a single blood drop formed beading and then running in a thin rivulet down the silvery blade. My mother's eyes bulged in terror, tears forming from her own fear and pain. "Stop! Please!" I inched forwards, my hands outstretched in a placating gesture. "Don't hurt her! I'll do anything you want! Just please, leave my mother alone!"
"Anything?" She challenged me, standing to my mother's full, if somewhat diminutive height and angling her face up to me. "Anything. Please. Whatever you want." She took the knife away, tapping it thoughtfully against he cheek. My mother's deer-in-a-headlight eyes followed the gesture, evidently fearful that the succubus within was going to do some damage with the knife. "Very well," she said, making an imperious little gesture. "Kneel before me." I did, sinking slowly down to the floor. She stepped in towards me, holding the knife out. "Lick it clean. Understand that from here on out, the price of any disobedience, however small it should be, will be paid in your mother's blood, pain, and degradation."
I gingerly ran my tongue across the blade, drinking up my mother's coppery blood. At the end of the stroke, my nose was level with my mother's crotch, caked in dried semen and reeking of sex. Oh, God, please no. Don't make me lick that. Fortunately, she didn't. Sliding the knife under my chin, she forced me to stand, making sure I got a good look at my mother's unrestrained breasts as I did so. So close to her body, my breath washed across her, raising goosebumps and setting her nipples to hardening...