v1 CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: (18+) In which the tables turn and turn again.

The succubus diligently cleaned the whole of Spencer’s laboratory, almost as if on an autopilot. She’d collected various pieces of debris, hefting them with a strength that failed to surprise him—she was a demon, after all. Spencer supposed the demoness intended the feminine whimpers of effort she produced to provoke sympathy or arousal as she hauled hunks of stone towards a garbage, but the girl never looked up from her work to make eye contact with him.

Subsequently, Yael produced a dustpan and broom to sweep up, and even a feather duster to reach high places, her petite form on one tiptoe with the other leg kicked up. The pose exposed the absurdly round globes of her buttocks, red and smooth. Spencer sneered in derision but spared a glance at the alluring geometry of her underside.

Now the succubus was on all fours, scrubbing at stains with a large brush. For no apparent reason beyond titillation, she’d forgone a mop and lowered herself nearly to the floor with her hips raised high in the air. Her whole body wobbled obscenely with each thrust of the bristles, and the twin spheres of her crimson flesh threatened to spill out of her lacy bodice.

She might as well be polishing the floor with her nipples. Maybe I’ll have her do that next, thought Spencer. This was a tremendous waste of time, given the disruptions outside, but his victory over this demon was too great a feast not to relish. He enjoyed the feel of pure domination, undeniably. He allowed his students and proteges some leeway in exercising their powers or satiating their needs; like them, he carried hungers within his soul.

Spencer noticed the succubus pause while scrubbing the floor. Bubbles of soap surrounded her knees and hands. He certainly hoped the magically summoned stuff was genuine enough to actually clean the place up, considering the possibility of illusion with an irritated inward shrug.

“You missed a spot.” Thomas Spencer indicated a dried, dark stain that resembled blood, pointing with one slender finger. The creature before him failed to respond, hunched over in a motionless sprawl.

“Why have you stopped, my servant?” His brows narrowing, Spencer watched the demon for any signs of resistance. The binding circle, and his knowledge of Yael’s true name, however incomplete, should prevent her from doing anything save follow his commands. Still, vigilance was ever his watchword; he had to be sure.

The girl looked up, her yellow eyes finally meeting his, staring placidly out of that girlish, unnatural face. “I’m sorry, Monsignor… I want to keep cleaning for you. I love making things tidy. It’s just… I’m hungry. It’s been many hours since I last ate, and I didn’t even finish my meal then. I’m starving.” She pouted, a mockery of innocent distress.

Spencer felt a chill; this was not the possessed wretch he had readied for interrogation weeks ago, nor the recalcitrant, fallen priest he’d debated in dreams. He cursed inwardly; the manipulative sultriness and grotesque femininity of this hellspawn made him increasingly certain that he’d lost Michael Belmont. The man had been a fool and a weak degenerate, but with potential. What remained… was Yael, an ancient evil suitable only for the shortest of leashes; for chains, really.

This succubus acted sweet and bubbly, just like the serving girl he’d told her to be. Her demeanor mimicked a young girl at the mercy of sexual awakening and unexpectedly hard work, all belied by her obviously demonic form. He could use this for his own ends, if only he could make her utterly dependent on him. Of course, the thing sought to manipulate him, but perhaps only in order to feed, to survive a little longer in this accursed physical realm. Was there something more to this than he could discern?

He paced over to her, his steps deliberate. “Perhaps we can test how obedient you are when feeding, while slaking your unholy thirst.” He stood before the succubus and watched as her neck craned upwards to hold his gaze, her mouth opening a little to expose her dainty fangs. “I’m sure your final transformation took a lot out of you, and just as sure that some part of you continues to resist, exhausting even more of your resources.”

He unzipped his pants and watched her reaction. “Perhaps you should have a taste of the reward you will earn for your labors. I am your shepherd now and will decide when you may feed.” The succubus’s eyes had locked onto his crotch instantly, a tongue darting to her left fang. She gazed up at him again, mouth open, a glazed look in her eyes.

Spencer placed a hand on her forehead, as if blessing her, or restraining a dog. “Recall the stricture I placed on you, Yael. You may not orgasm, nor bring any other being to orgasm, unless I permit it. Your hunger is mine to satiate, and you may not feed save through my authority.”

The succubus gave a lustful little moan; her breath came in quick gasps, as if she struggled get more air. She swallowed hard. “No orgasm?” The succubus shook her head like a dog. “No release of any kind? Oh, master! Do you want me to beg? Yael can beg!”

Spencer chuckled and removed his hand. “If you are good, then perhaps I will allow you to beg. And perhaps, if you show your loyalty, the release you crave will come.”

The succubus looked down at her own body, still clad in the skimpy maid’s uniform, as if studying it for the first time. “Oh, I can be good. Yael is so very good!” She wiggled her shoulders for him, and a light sheen of eager sweat appeared on the burgundy flesh of her cleavage.

Spencer felt his cock stir. “I see you’re eager to begin.” He stepped forward, and the succubus crawled to him, not pouncing like a feral beast as she had before. Her movements slow and deliberate, she crept her hands up the side of his legs until she could slip her fingers over the top of his waistband. Her tail wrapped around his leg, but he remained unperturbed. This was his game.

“You like this, don’t you?” she asked. “You like Yael, and how she has served you?”

“Of course,” he replied. “This is my plan for you, fallen star though you are.”

Yael purred, rubbing her body against his thighs. “Then what are we waiting for? I want to follow my master’s plan.” She fumbled with his belt and clasps; Spencer kept his hands at his sides, watching impassively. The succubus tugged at his pants, then gasped with delight when his cock sprang free; her lips curved in a delighted circle.

She gazed up at him again, her strangely shaped pupils locking onto his. The demon girl wrapped her mouth around the head of his shaft and teased it with her agile tongue. Spencer heard a noise, then realized it was his own voice, groaning. Yael’s mouth was so hot, her manner so quick and hungry, and that demonic tongue was both slippery and unusually textured. This was better than he had expected. Perhaps if he mastered fine control over this creature, he’d get quite a bargain, satisfying many needs at once.

The demoness’ tail still coiled around his leg, and had snaked higher, coiling. That grip would be the perfect place to hold on to him if she tried to upend or restrain him. He could command her to let him go at any moment, but hesitated to show fear or concern. It would take only a command, or a short burst of the energy he restrained within himself, if she got too aggressive. Would that be a good thing or a bad thing?

As if sensing his distraction, Yael redoubled her ministrations on his cock, engulfing the whole of his member with her mouth, taking it into her throat as her tongue snaked around him. He gasped and shuddered, feeling “You may use your tail,” he gasped, “to pleasure yourself. As long as you do not bring yourself to orgasm, mind you.” He felt the suction and stroking on his cock relax, and he let out a sigh.

Yael stared up at him with wide eyes; looking for all the world like a child who had just been told she could eat dessert before dinner. “You want me to touch myself?” Yael’s tail unwrapped from his leg and slid down between her own legs. The succubus squatted above the freshly cleaned concrete floor and pulled the length of her tail between her legs; she parted her labia with two fingers of her other hand and stroked herself.

Eyelids fluttering, she moaned and leaned back as if overwhelmed by pleasure, falling on her plump ass and displaying her glistening cunt to Spencer’s gaze. His cock grew hard again, and he reached down to stroke himself—the demoness seemed more than eager to do whatever he said. That was always quite a turn-on.

Yael’s eyes snapped open, even as she continued to rub her tail across her clit, her lips. She stared up at him with a lustful gaze. “Oh, master! Let me do that for you. Please let Yael help!”

Spencer shook his head. “Not yet. Keep masturbating for me, my pet.” He watched as she slid her cunt onto her tail, squeezing it with her thighs and hips, her flesh rolling, the abomination of her inhuman organ sliding in and out of her. His manhood grew rigid as a pillar of stone, and he drew his fingers along it, feeling his own need grow.

Yael’s voice whimpered in an escalating rhythm, letting out a whine of pleasure whenever her tail delved into her slick opening. “It—it feels so good, master! I love it… I love doing what you want me to do.”

Long black nails danced over her inner lips, her blood-red clit. He could see everything. The tail went in and out of her, glistening and twisting. The voice of the succubus moaned and moaned.

“St-stop,” he gasped, realizing that he’d begun pumping himself with one hand. The succubus obediently ceased her writhing and her gasps, her eyes watching him calmly out of a face beaded with sweat. She breathed heavily but slowly, and Spencer felt a slight ache in his back. How long had they been at this?

He needed more. “Come to me, demon bitch. I want you to sit on my cock.” Yael’s eyes widened again. “Now!” he commanded.

Yael scurried over to him, smiling. “Of course, master! I hear and obey.” She gently tugged him towards the floor and climbed atop him. She was light and heavy at once, her limbs and frame lithe and graceful, but the weight of her intent and desire pressing him down. Yael sank onto his torso like a jockey hugging her mount in a tight turn, grinding against his cock and moaning.

“Unnnh, yes! My lord, my sovereign,” she whispered, then her eyes went wide as she impaled herself on his shaft. “You feel so good inside of me, Monsignor.” She shifted her hips, shimmying and squeezing, letting out small squeals with every twist of her body. With agonizing slowness, she slid up his cock and then back down.

“Oh, let me milk you, master,” she trilled. “I’d do anything for your hot cum. If you give me some, I’ll cum so hard for you too, I promise!” Spencer gasped as the succubus’ body shook, but he held himself back from his own orgasm, teeth gritted, as her sweat-soaked crimson body gyrated against his.

“Can I cum yet, Father Tom? Can I help you cum?” Yael’s voice was a plaintive growl; she was eager to please him, but hungry.

“Not yet,” he said. “Not without permission. Wait—wait, you hell-spawned—get off me, now!” The demoness smiled and slipped away from him, sliding off his cock to crouch between his legs, still tangled in his black pants. She took his cock in her hand, stroking it gently. The tip glistened with pre-cum; Spencer was panting, his jaw clenched.

Yael bent the bow of her lips towards the glistening head of his shaft. “Please, master? I’ll be so gentle… I won’t hurt you. Let me give you a kiss.”

Spencer shook his head. “Not yet.” His cock was so hard, his balls pressing tight against the underside of his shaft, so close to orgasm. He couldn’t wait any longer; he was teetering on the brink, but he could finish himself alone. It was safer.

“I will—” he began, but then the succubus wrapped her mouth around him, sucking feverishly as her tail snaked down to stroke at her own needy clit. He groaned, watching her horns bob up and down on his cock. It was too much. As he felt the pressure grow in him, he ordered, “Stop! As I enjoined you, you may not—Yael! I command and bind you!” But the succubus was still sucking, wrapping her tongue along his length as she took him deeper.

Spencer moaned. “Ohhhh, oh God Almighty!”

Yael’s mouth popped off his cock, her face covered with pre-cum and drool. She was still teasing her own cunt with the tip of her tail, shuddering with pleasure. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t hear you for a moment, Spencey. You wanted me to stop?” she laughed.

It was too late. Thomas Spencer’s cock exploded like a pent-up volcano, jettisoning his cum all over Yael’s hair and face with a pained moan. The succubus laughed and lapped up his spew greedily, swiveling her tongue around her lips. She licked up his cum, then scraped more off her face and hands, catching it in the spurts erupting from him and bringing each morsel to her mouth.

“Yael!” he cursed furiously, his body still out of control, pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. “I… I ordered you… ordered and bound!” The succubus bent down and lapped the cum off his belly, cleaning him like a cat. When she peered up at him again, her eyes had grown cold.

“You claimed dominion over Yael. But I’m not Yael.” She shifted and changed, her hair growing shorter and straighter, her horns shrinking and her features altering into a face that looked… more like someone else, he realized as his body shuddered. The woman he’d argued with and tempted.

She had the face of Micki Belmont but wearing Yael’s devilish smile.

Spencer fell backwards, his body shuddering and shaking. “You bitch—you… you don’t know what you’ve done!” His voice was strained; he couldn’t catch his breath.

The succubus laughed, licking her lips clean. “Oh, I think I know exactly what I’ve done.” She stood up and leaned over him, her hands reaching down to stroke the naked skin of his chest and stomach. The priest was writhing as if in pain.

“I’ve caused you to lose control. The thing you hate the most: not being in charge, not pulling all the strings.” She spat at him, and her spittle landed squarely on his face. “That’s for all the times you tried to play mind games with Micki.”

The succubus raked her nails across his chest, leaving bloody marks. He screamed in pain but seemed unable to move. “And that’s for trying to turn Micki into a copy of you, another manipulative, exploitative ass.”

Spencer moaned in pain and terror. “You don’t know… don’t understand.” It wasn’t just the claws of an angry demon he feared; something darker boiled up from inside of him. The real thing he’d been keeping under control.

“Not even you can know every move in advance or predict every factor.” She stood up and circled him, her tail swaying with each step. “You couldn’t know what I would become, because I didn’t know either. I’m the new girl.” She curtsied in her torn, cum-stained maid’s uniform.

Monsignor Thomas Spencer barely seemed to listen. His back arched, and he gave out a hoarse scream.

The succubus came closer. “What are—” but before she could continue, Spencer grabbed onto her leg. His grasp felt desperate, like that of a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.

“Kill me,” he begged. “It’s been so long. I kept it inside for so long.”

His eyes were wet; the demoness stepped back. “We fucked inside your binding circle,” she said. “Nothing should be able to possess you here.”

A voice hissed in her ear. Yael’s voice, much like her own, but with a different cadence and timbre. “He’s fucked it up, sis. The demon in him left off some runes in the circle, some names. Tailored for this loophole, I’m afraid. Someone’s been pulling even deeper strings.”

Shit, thought Una. I’m in another trap, and it’s not even a trap set by Spencer. The thing lurking inside of him had seen this coming, somehow.

“Lord!” screamed Spencer. “I have done my best to sate you! Please… please!”

Something was approaching from an impossible direction. Monsignor Thomas Spencer reared up, his back arching inhumanly far, his head nearly grazing the floor. Black smoke poured from his mouth.

The voice of Yael sounded like a fading sigh, growing quieter. “It’s happening—you must kill him now or be prepared to face an archdemon. The thing inside Thomas Spencer is a far older demon than I, stripling… a nightmare of the first memories.”

Una reached down and grabbed the monsignor by the hair, pulling his face up. He screamed over and over, eyes bulging, teeth gnashing; the smoke leaking from the corners of his mouth, and the light from his eyes, seemed to drain the substance of his physical form. Una reached forward with two of her long, sharpened nails touching the arteries in the man’s neck.

The demon-possessed priest thrashed in her grip, his movements weakening, but Una froze, watching him.

“Do it,” whispered Yael. “If you can’t kill him, you’re in a heap of shit!”

She heard another, even fainter voice, echoing as if from a great distance. “Remember what we learned, the fifth rule? Thou shalt not kill.” She remembered it, and it was true; she would not.

The smoke from within Spencer coiled into a vast, hazy limb. The limb grew a hand, grabbed her by the neck and flung her away, across the room. She hit the wall hard enough to dizzy her for a moment—and then she was on her feet again. Whatever this archdemon inside Spencer was, it was strong enough to throw her aside like a toy.

A hollow intonation bellowed from inside of Spencer: “This is all your fault.” The thing that had been a man swiveled toward Una, his body convulsing in jerks, head limp and limbs flopping like the pieces of a broken puppet. A breeze blew through the basement hallways and chambers, stirring up remaining dust and swirling debris out of an overturned dustpan. “You owe a debt to this one,” the voice boomed. “He is mine. Therefore: transfer of debts, you owe Nezz.”

Now a cloud of particulate matter swirled around Thomas Spencer’s inert body, which hung as if suspended from a wire. A figure slowly took shape in that haze of dust and soot, forming from whirling flecks of matter. The monsignor’s eyes stared at the floor, now milky white; his skin had darkened to a grayish-black.

Una felt herself falling backward. Her legs pushed her up against the wall, and she trembled.

The creature that rose out of Spencer’s body was vaguely humanoid, but composed entirely of smoke. It made no attempt to resemble any particular person; abstract in form, but referencing the idea of humanity, it could have been anyone or anything.

The archdemon’s head was like an inverted pyramid, a downward-pointing triangle with two enormous horns protruding above it. Legs and arms sprouted from its sides—these too formed from smoke, writhing and growing in the wind. As Una watched, the legs wriggled and bent until the heels touched the ground; then the creature hopped forward in a strange, jerking motion, as if learning to watch by copying living beings.

The thing before Una was not beautiful or ugly, nor did it seem malevolent. It was utterly alien. At the center of the swirling form of geometry and dust, the inert body of Thomas Spencer hung like an obscene chest piece, embedded within the solidifying. Una edged to the side, towards the staircase which led aboveground.

“NEZZ.” The archdemon named itself with a reverberating voice, sounding like a loudspeaker with the bass levels cranked up. Its form was growing more solid, tangible, and fleshy. Faces moved on the surface of the inverted pyramid, like a parade of masks, or pieces of flesh skinned from their original owners’ skulls. The faces moved, leering or screaming, or staring lifelessly at her. Then every visage coalesced, averaging and smoothing out, the features and emotions normalizing into a combination of all the moving faces merged into one. The remaining face filled one face of the pyramid. It was smiling.

“We are here to collect,” said Nezz.