A Succubus and a… College Guy? (Chapter 1)

It had been your average day in the underworld. Wandering around, making small talk with the more interesting looking demons and demonesses as I meander through the fires of hell, the sounds of faint screams in the distance providing a soundtrack to my life, as they had for all 2,376 years of my existence. But who’s counting?

Anyway, I had been taking a stroll through the plains of the damned, when suddenly, I feel a tugging sensation in my gut I haven’t felt in centuries. Surely it couldn’t be… yes. After hundreds of years, I was being summoned to the overworld. It had been so long since there had been mass summonings of beings like me, as the humans seem to have realized that trying to finesse your way into having a demon do your bidding wasn’t a good idea. Or maybe they just got bored of reading the books, I don’t know.

The tugging feeling increases, and my vision begins to flicker. A bored guard nearby looks at me, confused, until he too recognizes that I’m being yanked to up above. My ears ring, and in a few more seconds, I feel myself being materialized one floor higher in the cosmic building.

As I’m gradually reassembled, my sense of touch returns first. I can feel cool, stale air slowly circulating around me, and cold wood beneath my feet. Then comes the smell, which is an unpleasant mix of sweaty clothes and too much lemon air freshener to cover it up.

My hearing comes back next, and I hear the whirring of a machine that I recognize as an air conditioner. Despite not having been up here for a couple centuries, the technology of the humans had made it’s way down to the underworld fairly quickly. While all of us are quite used to the fire and burning, sometimes air conditioning and a personal ice cream machine could come in handy. As pitiful as they are, humans have admittedly improved the quality of life down below quite a bit, so I suppose I’m grateful for that.

My sight returns last, gradually fading from light and dark blurs to shapes, and then colors, and finally, a clear image as my eyeballs slowly piece themselves together. The sensation of being summoned is something I’ll never get used to. The first few times I had thrown up immediately upon arrival, which hadn’t helped my cause any. What is my cause you ask? Well…

The stereotypes about us succubi are pretty much true. Most of us are red, hellish vixens who try their best to seduce their masters and anyone else they can. We do not, however, steal their souls as humans seem to think. It may seem like it, as we leave our partners slack jawed and glassy eyed, having cum their tiny mortal brains out, but I assure you, their souls are still intact. Satan would be mad if we kept those for ourselves. They may become depressed, as they know they’ll never have as good a time again, or obsessed with summoning another succubus, but we merely use them for our enjoyment and continue on our way.

You know the feeling of having a bug bite on your leg? How you know you shouldn’t scratch it, but it keeps building and building until you just *have* to? That’s what succubi experience, expect instead of itchiness, it’s horniness. The ache between my legs has been growing for for over 500 years, and as succubi, our “demonly curse,” as it’s called, is that we can never satisfy it ourselves. No amount of fingering, or clit rubbing, or anything else can satiate our lust. It has to be a human, unfortunately.

And now, a human has finally called me up from down below. I look around, and see a terrified looking guy cowering in fear as he stares at me. To be fair, having a scantily clad, red skinned, winged lady who also happens to be knockout gorgeous is a little awe-inspiring (if I do say so myself). I decide to ditch the wings, having them disappear for now to look a bit more “normal”.

As I get a better look at my surroundings, I realize this is not the place I was expecting to be summoned from. I’m used to candles and lots of old books. Satanic symbols and pentacles on the floor. Usually it’s dedicated practitioners of the satanic arts who summon demons, not this… college student?

I realize that this a college dorm room, and the guy staring at me in fear looks maybe 22, and is clutching one such old book, doubtlessly containing the spells to summon me, to his chest in terror. I frown at him, and the first words out of my mouth to my new master are, “What in the hell are you doing?”

He looks almost surprised at my words, but his voice is still laced with fear when he replies, “What in the hell are you?!”

I look around, making sure he’s not referring to someone else. “Surely you know what I am, you summoned me, for Satan’s sake! Did you even read the book in your hands?”

He looks down at the book incredulously, as if wondering how it made him summon the being now standing before him. “I-I thought it was just some old book!” he shouts. “I didn’t know it was serious!”

I groan in annoyance. Not only is this guy terrified of me, he’s an *idiot*. “Master, that book is over three thousand years old, yet is near pristine. You didn’t think something was off? You’re an idiot.”

I pause when the last word actually comes out. Normally, the way the summons are worded doesn’t allow us to bad-mouth our summoners, but this fool seems to have messed that up too. He did, however, get the part binding me to his service, as when he instinctively replies, “Hey, shut up! How was I supposed to know!” my mouth is clamped shut.

He sees this, and I watch as the gears slowly turn in his head. “Wait… I’m your master, as in you have to do whatever I say?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, that is correct. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.”

“Slap yourself.”

“What?!” I cry out, shocked by the immature order.

“Do it.”

Against my will, my right hand comes up and smacks me across the face, hard enough to hurt. “Happy now?” I ask, my cheek stinging.

“Yes. I had to test… whatever the hell this is.” He looks back in the book, and I can see a picture of me on the page. How he had no idea what he was summoning astounds me. How many other demons are so amazingly awesome like me?

“I assure you, master, your summons is intact. Can you let me go now?” I ask, already wanting to just leave. I had been excited to be summoned again after so long, but this buffoon has me doubting myself.

“Won’t you kill me if I let you go?” He asks.

“No, succubi don’t kill unless told to. But we’re not even that good at it even when ordered to, so don’t expect me to be able to end anyone you don’t like. And I meant let go as in send me back to the underworld.”

He seems to accept this, apparently disappointed that I couldn’t be his personal hitwoman. He looks about ready to agree to letting me return to down below, but he changes his mind after giving me another once-over. “I think I’ll keep you up here for at least a little bit. Imaginary demons don’t greet you from hell everyday.”

Oh great. His stupid confidence seems to have emboldened him, now that he knows he can make me do whatever he says. Just wonderful. “I am not imaginary, and why can’t you just let me go? I assure you, neither of us would speak of this again.”

“Yeah, no. You can’t expect me to accidentally summon a hot demon and not expect me to be curious. You’ll stay up here for a while.”

“As you wish,” I say through gritted teeth. I do notice that he commented on my appearance. Maybe this could work out after all. A good time on bed seems to be all this guy could be good for. As far as masters go, this guy sure turned cocky quick. Although that’s usually their undoing…

“First off, how does the gibberish in this book summon you?” He asks, looking at the text on my page in his summoning book.

“It’s not gibberish, it’s written in Satanic. And it summons me because it’s a summoning spell with my name in it,” I say, wondering how someone could be this clueless. Humans really have gotten out of practice these past few centuries.

He looks at the book again, studying the words again, as if just now realizing it was a language. He looks at a caption underneath the hand drawn image of me on the page and says, “Your name is… Miatakan?”

“Yes, but I think both of us will benefit from me simply going by Mia.” He glares at me, clearly not appreciating my underhand insult.

“Whatever,” he says after a while. “I’m Jack.”

“It’s almost nice to meet you,” I say wryly.

He glares once more and quickly says, “Slap yourself again.” My hand smacks me again, despite my best efforts to resist.

“Ow!” I cry out, rubbing my stinging cheek. “Could you not?”

“Quit being so mean. It’s not my fault I didn’t know what a Satanic summoning spell was.” He looks like he’s about to continue, when he stops and studies me. His eyes roam my body, seemingly just now noticing my *very* revealing clothes made from black leather. I get the feeling that telling him it’s made from human skin instead of cows wouldn’t go over well.

Sensing an opportunity, I put my hands on my hips and decide to exploit Jack’s need to do the opposite of everything I say. “Hey!” I say in false outrage. “I’m right here!”

He looks back up at my eyes, almost guilty looking for a second, before he changes his mind. “You said you’re a succubus. Why would you be wearing that if not to steal my soul?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’m a succubus. And again, we don’t steal souls. And I’m wearing this outfit because it’s what succubi are given. Not all of us are the seduce you at all costs type. We have standards.”

The first parts are technically true. We don’t steal souls like humans believe, and we are given the clothes by Lucifer himself. I don’t tell him that we request the most risque outfits he can conjure up on purpose, though. I also don’t tell him that while we do have standards, they’re pretty low when you’ve had an ache in your loins building for centuries. Even now, I can feel it returning just being in the presence of a male. The last time I had satisfied it was with Leonardo Da Vinci’s father. He was nowhere near as smart as his son, but he was far better in bed. Mostly because Leonardo had spent the whole time trying to figure out how my wings allowed me to fly, but that’s beside the point.

“I don’t buy it. Tell the truth. What do you really want then?” He waits to see if his order will actually do anything, which of course, it does.

My mouth moves of its own accord, forced to comply with his order. “I will not steal your soul. The outfit is on purpose. And-” I try to clamp my jaw shut with my hands, but Jack merely orders, “Put your hands down.” My hands return to my sides, and my mouth continues it’s traitorous speaking.

“And I want to fuck you senseless to satisfy myself.” My mouth ceases, and I clamp it shut, my cheeks burning even brighter red then they usually are. There goes any chance at subtlety.

Jack’s face goes from relieved, to stunned, and finally to smug as the truth spills from my mouth.

“So… you’re just horny? That’s your only motivation?” he asks, clearly thinking about something I’m sure I won’t enjoy. My mouth once again moves against my will, betraying me by answering Jack’s question.

“Yes. I’m just horny, and I need to satisfy it with you.” My mouth stops talking by itself, and I quickly elaborate. “It builds up over time, and it’s been so long since I’ve been summoned. It’s not just you, so wipe that grin off your face.”

He doesn’t remove his smirk. In fact, it only grows as he fully understands my real intentions. I notice a growing bulge in his pants when I glance down, and I get the feeling that he’s scheming something.

“So… In theory, since I summoned you, that means you have to do whatever I say until I let you go, correct?” He begins circling me like a shark, inspecting me from all sides with an appreciative gaze.

“Yes, I already said that. Unless someone else summons me, which they can’t do without that book. I might be in other similar books, but I doubt it,” I reply. Despite my obvious greatness, I’m nowhere near as popular as some of the more well known demons. I’m fairly certain the only book I’ve been summoned with is the one in Jack’s hands. How he came to have it is a mystery.

“Excellent,” Jack says. It’s like how a mad scientist would use the word, like he had just perfected his evil plan. “Kneel.”

I sink to my knees immediately, and watch as he walks around in front of me. He cups my chin and tilts my head up to look at him.

“I have no idea who or what you are, or how any of this works. But, since I seem to have accidentally caught myself a keeper, I’m going to take full advantage of the situation.”

As he speaks, it dawns on me where this is going. It’s even more clear when he begins unbuttoning his shorts, and pulls them down to reveal boxers with a considerable bulge in them. I look up at him, both fuming at my treatment and excited at the same time. He locks the door to the dorm room, and walks back over to me.

My eyes move back down to his waist as he yanks his underwear off to reveal a throbbing, 8 inch cock. It hovers mere inches from my face, just begging for me to touch it, but I keep my hands on my knees. I’m not going to be *that* easy. Sure, it looks enticing, but I have to control myself at least a little.

So, I fake indignation. “What the hell?!” I cry out, looking back up at him as he smirks.

“Oh stop,” he replies. “I saw your face. You’re just waiting for me to tell you what to do, aren’t you?”

Well he saw through that quick. My mouth doesn’t say anything on it’s own this time, however, so I respond with, “Maybe. Maybe not.” This doesn’t seem to convince him either.

“Shut up and do your job,” he commands.

“And what job would that be?” I ask sweetly, knowing full well what he wants me to do.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to mouth off, Mia. So use it for something else.”

Good Lucifer, why does he have to be so cocky? It’s bad enough that he knows he can make me do whatever he wants, but does he have to rub it in?
“Something else like what?” I ask.

He sighs, clearly annoyed by my perfectly valid questions. “Open your mouth. All the way.” My jaw instantly complies, my mouth wrenched open as I look up at him with real indignation this time. I’m about to make angry noises at him, when he thrusts his hips forward and shoves his cock into my mouth. My jaw no longer holds itself open by itself, and I close it around him as he groans in satisfaction. “Much better. And quieter, too,” he quips.

I glare up at him, but still begin moving my head up and down his length on instinct. “Good girl,” he says playfully. His hands go to the top of my head, taking handfuls of my jet black hair to make sure I continue. I glare at him once more before returning my eyes to his stomach, thinking about how much I’d like to order *him* around.

As my head bobs up and down, my tongue swirls all around him in my mouth, providing pressure and stimulation I’ve had millennia to perfect. He groans again as I begin going deeper and says, “Jesus Christ, you’re good at this. Though I suppose it’s all you do.”

I decide to ignore the use of that name. It brings back bad memories from ancient Israel I’d rather not relive. You’d be surprised how angry donkeys get at people who are bright red and have wings.

I glance up at him, annoyed by his verbal jab. This is certainly not all I do. Just what I do most of the time when I’m up here.

I can feel the ache between my legs flaring up, my inner need for stimulation of my own rising due to my current situation. I desperately want to reach a hand down and try to relieve it, but I know it won’t work. All it will do is edge me. The universe will allow me to bring myself right to the edge, then drag me back no matter what I do. I’ve given up entirely on even trying now, and haven’t really used my hand on myself in centuries. But the urge to just slip my finger between my legs has surfaced again. Or better yet, the cock currently occupying my mouth.

I pull off of him quickly, and Jack immediately asks, annoyed, “Why have you stopped?”

“Because I need some pleasure of my own, sir. Please.” I spread my legs, revealing a wet spot on my black panties. I hate having to beg this arrogant twenty-something, but I *need* him to fuck me, and soon.

He looks down and sees the spot on my underwear, and seems to consider my proposal. I look up at him expectantly hoping that he’ll agree, but my hopes are dashed when he replies, “No. Use your hand.”

My right hand instantly stuffs itself into my panties, rubbing my clit frustratingly perfectly as I protest, “But that doesn’t work! It will only-”

“Hush, Mia. Your mouth should be pleasing me, not talking.” My head moves forward and inserts Jack back into my mouth, despite my frustrated whimpers.

I go back to bobbing up and down, moaning on Jack’s cock as my hand moves of it’s own accord, rubbing circles on my clit. It’s been so long since I’ve had stimulation, and and Jack’s order ensures that my hand does the absolute best it possibly can. My hand slips three fingers into my dripping pussy, whimpering in frustrated pleasure as I know it will only end in being edged.

Jack meanwhile, decides to take a little more control than he already had. He puts his hands on the back of my head and holds me still, then thrusts into my mouth firmly. After a few seconds of that, he forces himself down my throat until my nose is pressed against his nose and I’m gagging and choking on him. “Stay right there,” he orders, then removes his hands.

I look up at him in alarm as I no longer can move my head. He leans back and moans, clearly loving my mouth as I deepthroat him. My unoccupied hand goes up to his leg, trying to push myself off of him so I can breathe, but I can’t move my head an inch. Right when I think I can’t go another second, he pulls back.

I gasp for air, too out of breath to even moan as my hand plunges my middle three fingers deep into me repeatedly. I have only a few seconds to recover before Jack is back in my mouth, and I resume sucking.

It isn’t long before we’re both moaning loudly, although mine are muffled as Jack continues thrusting his hips forward to meet my head with each stroke. My hand has gone back to my clit, rubbing it quickly as I get close to the unattainable orgasm I crave. When I hear Jack grunt almost animalistically, I can tell that he’s close as well.

I deepthroat him again, this time of my own free will, and look up at him to see his reaction. I’m rewarded with a moan and a muttered, “Fuck, you’re so good…” My hand is moving at lighting speed now, my wrist aching from the effort I’m not actually controlling.

In just a few more seconds, Jack pulls out of my mouth and grunts, “Tongue out. Keep looking at me.” My tongue darts out of my mouth immediately, opening it wide as I stare into his urgent, lustful eyes. He begins stroking himself, then thinks better of it and tells me, “You do it. Quickly.”

My left hand shoots up and grips his throbbing cock, stroking it as fast as my arm can move. I move so the tip of his cock is just barely against my tongue as I wait for him to cum, momentarily forgetting about my other hand and the doomed pleasure it’s giving me.

I feel him tense up, and with a groan even louder with before, he begins shooting his load. Each powerful spurt is accompanied with a grunt, and his hands grip my head despite me not wanting, or even being able, to move. Most of his semen ends up in my mouth, although some lands on my cheek. The last shot, though lands directly in my left eye. Just my luck.

When his cock stills, he groans in satisfaction and removes his hands from my head. I quickly swallow everything in my mouth, causing Jack to smirk. “Look, at that, I didn’t even have to tell you,” he says in the stuck up voice I already hate.

“Shut up,” I reply, my hand still moving in my panties that are now completely drenched. I gasp as my hand plunges my fingers back into me again, my palm now rubbing my clit as well. Jack watches this intently, and I glare up at him. “And let me stop, this won’t actually-”

Jack interrupts me again. “You shut up. And keep going. Take the weird leather panties off while you’re at it.

I make angry noises at him as my mouth snaps shut and my other hand begins tugging at my panties. I desperately need to tell him that I won’t actually cum from this, but knowing him, that would probably make him want to make me continue even more.

My panties come off and are tossed aside, exposing the drenched mess between my legs. He licks his lips when he sees my shaved pussy, and he sits down to look at me face to face as my pleasurable torture continues.

I grab my breast with my other hand, not because it moved by itself, but because of an instinctive need to chase the orgasm that is *so* close, yet so far. I can’t hold back my moans as I approach the end, hoping that maybe it won’t end in frustration like every other time.

My hand moves even faster, and I fall onto my back as the pleasure keeps increasing. Jack silently watches me writhe on the floor, getting more and more desperate to cum. Right as I reach the end, I have a hopeful moment. I think for just a moment that maybe my curse has relented, that my hand can make me cum just this once.

My hope is soon quashed. Right as I was about to cum, I can feel the pleasure slowly begin to recede. And not quickly either. It fades away agonizingly slowly, despite my desperate efforts to go faster, deeper, anything to try and make myself orgasm. My moans turn to screams of frustration as I roll around pitifully.

Jack takes this all in, and asks in a voice filled with fake sweetness, “What’s wrong Mia? You look like you’re having a bit of trouble…”

I glare at him as my pleasure fades away completely, making my still moving hand start all over. “I was *trying* to tell you, succubi can’t cum by themselves. It’s our curse. As much as I wish I didn’t, I… I need you.”

“You need me. You *want* me. Tell the truth.”

Good Lucifer, this guy won’t stop. I swear… “I… yes. I want you. Badly.” My mouth stops moving by itself, but I continue speaking. “Happy now? And can you please let my hand stop?” I nod at my aching hand still rubbing away at my clit, performing it’s duty regardless of if I want it to or not.

“Hm… Beg me, and I’ll let you stop.” He smirks and waits to see if I’ll sacrifice any pride I had left.

“What?!” I say indignantly, although I can feel my hand’s ministrations becoming pleasurable again. I can’t take another round of that, I just can’t. Jack simply waits.

“I hate you, just for the record,” I say.

“That doesn’t sound like begging.”

I take a deep breath, and swallow my pride. “Please, master. Pleeeaase let me stop.”

Jack frowns. “Yeah… I’m not convinced. You sound like a kid asking for a toy.”

I glare at him again. Why do humans have to be so damn *stubborn* nowadays. Technology has made them cocky. I remember when masters would busy out old fashioned ball and chains to keep demons contained. Ah, those were simpler times.

“Please, master. I can’t take another round of that, I’ll go crazy. Please oh please let me stop, sir. Just let my hand stop, please!” I hate myself for begging this man, but my needs take priority over my pride right now.

“Hm. Still a bit weak, but I’ll accept it. You can stop now.” My hand instantly goes limp, me no longer having the strength to lift it as my wrist and palm ache.

“Thank you,” I say, not wanting him to have an excuse to make me start again. “Can I go now?” I ask. As much I need to satisfy my primal lust, I can’t stomach having to do it with *him*. An emo forty something would be better than this. At least emos would respect me as an actual demon.

My face falls when Jack shakes his head. He stands up, towering above me again as I notice that he’s still rock hard. This is fairly surprising. I didn’t think human men could go more than one round, especially not a horny college guy. But his erection persists.

He smiles down at me and says eight words that both terrify and excite me at the same time.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/izydmk/a_succubus_and_a_college_guy_chapter_1