House of Temptation – 3 [❤️]

You are Sunday.

Right now, you are hiding your demonic features going by Robinson Crusoe. Over the past few weeks, you’ve built a reliable schedule where you spend a quarter of your time in Haven, and the rest in Nancy’s Tavern. As the eldest incubus, it is your duty to maintain order among Lady Quinn’s assets.

That means helping Check manage the assorted House of Temptation properties, negotiating the portal’s usage, listening to grievances and ideas, and being babysat.

By Missy, a beautiful and disciplined equint shaman.

Missy eases a battered airship among several other wrecks connected to Nancy’s Tavern. She kneels down, places her hands on the deck, and mutters something as the ship slowly integrates with the others. The airship is newer than the neighbors, the outer hull still shines with polish.

The battle damage, three burn scars along the keel of the ship, makes it clear that it wouldn’t fly much longer either way. The ship captain is sobbing into the shoulder of the first mate, though he’s holding tightly on the pouch of gold Missy gave him.

“That’s the third this month.” You follow Missy deeper into the flying pirate city. “Is that unusual?”

“Yes.” Missy grunts. “The harpy’s war in the east is in full swing. Nobody can tell a merchant ship from a refugee ship or a military ship. Pirates love risk, but it’s becoming riskier to conduct raids for a pittance. They’re pumping out new warships every week, each with bigger weapons than the last.”

“That leaves Glacia to the north and the New Continent to the south.” Missy grunts at your remark.

“What I wouldn’t do for some better weapons. Any way your Lady can help on that front?”

“We’re lovers—”

“Not fighters, I know, I know.” Missy huffs. “Though not all of you. Can I borrow the one known as ‘Halloween’?”

“She’s busy.” You curtly open the door of the gloomy building with only a little bit of natural light trickling between layers of ancient canvas, frayed rigging, and jagged airship hulls.

You’re somewhat irked. The demon summoning papers you gave here were combed for any potential information breaches. They describe the ‘friendly’ rituals, where a demon is confined to the circle until invited to leave. Quinn confided in you that there will be other rituals, which are to be leaked to potentially hostile parties.

Nevertheless, Halloween wasn’t among the demons with summoning rituals. Missy’s informants in Haven dug around enough to find out about Halloween. It is likely one of the second generation blabbed.

A serious breach of protocol. You’re the ones who should be stealing information, not the pirates.

You ignore the nervous alchemists filling the first floor, choosing to focus on the ritualists pouring over the summoning documents you gave Missy. One notices your pointed stare and quickly averts her eyes.

“Come along, Crusoe.” Missy taps her foot at the top of the narrow staircase. “Your…fans are waiting.”

Fans. What a palatable word.

The second floor of Missy’s personal workshop has seen some changes as of late. Firstly, the desks were taken away to make room for the printing press, which is hidden under a thick canvas sheet. You thought it looked a bit drab, so you filled the free space with illusionary furniture. With some shadow constructs, they feel like the real thing. You’ve been practicing maintaining these physical illusions. Which your ‘fans’ appreciate.

There are more of them than usual. Over a dozen.

“Hi Robin!”

“Mr. Crusoe, please stay with me for the night!”

“Robinson, you can rut me right now, if, you know, you want?”

“Fuck off bitch, let him shoot his swimmers into me!”

Equints, harpies, minotaurs, humans...Surprisingly, only one is a prostitute. The others are pirates, shipwrights, and mushroom farmers. Successful women in their own right, some of them started out curious about the strange butler of the whorehouses. Others were directed to approach you by Missy’s rivals. It doesn’t matter.

After fucking them, they developed an infatuation. They used to break into Missy’s workshop to spend time with you, which aggravated her to no end. You offered a compromise: leave the second floor window unlocked so they could ‘sneak’ in, and not only would you clean up after you’re done, you’d convince them to help her.

The women who worked for the other Pirate Lords now feed them false information. Considering they’re willing to donate their time, skills, and even their blood…

In exchange for a thorough dicking. Quid pro quo.

Sadly, you don’t have much time.

“Ladies, as usual, I am flattered by your attention. Pick a room and wait for me there.”

You install the hypnotic suggestion while reinforcing a personal experiment of yours. Hypnosis, done well, can convince people to sense things that aren’t there, tricking their mind to fill in the gaps for the caster. Everyone can see an illusion, but it requires constant magic. You’ve been testing if you can use one to cover the weaknesses of the other.

For the past week, you implanted a fake floor plan to the second floor in their minds with hypnosis and illusions. They see the same fake hallways and fake doors, carry their fake keys for the fake locks for their personal fake rooms.

Even though it’s an open floor plan.

The girls wink at you, caress you, and slap your ass before going into their separate rooms. A few send each other glares, whispering to each other.

“By the Gale Mistress, did you see how he looked at me? I swear, I’m going to have his babies.”

“Okay, shrimpy.”

“He just doesn’t want to embarrass you, skank.”

“If you think a cow’s going to be his first wife, I’ve got an airship to sell you.”

You flex the hypnotic suggestion a bit, and the last two women’s eyes go blank for a moment. They follow the others, miming opening and closing doors as they each settle in their ‘rooms’. Except the last pair, an equint and a minotaur enter the same room and quickly undress.

“Mr. Crusoe, I knew you’d choose me!~”

“Robinson, my sweet…”

They see each other as you. That was the trickiest part, really. Thankfully, Lady Quinn helped you figure it out. The biggest hurdle was convincing their minds to have same-sex intercourse with each other, while perceiving it as you.

You sit in one of the only two real chairs in the room, by the desk facing the covered printing press. She looks over the blueprints and a few blurbs detailing the things the Pirate Lords want published. Missy barely reacts when your tail brushes against her leg. Not a single twinge of DESIRE.

She is definitely capable of it. You’ve been at her side at the House of Temptation’s weekly strip show. She just doesn’t let her DESIRE loose when it comes to you. Her body is practically immune to pheromones, and she’s well trained in resisting magical influences.

“Are you going to keep tracing my markings while you watch those two girls make out?” Missy frowns. “Or are you just going to distract me until you ask your question?”

How troublesome. She’s noticed one of your tells. Monday mentioned this one: you trace your tail on people when you’re about to ask them a question. You think it makes them more amenable. Monday says it exposes you.

“You don’t seem keen on either Glacia or the New Continent. Why?”

“Because I don’t know enough about them. I had informants in the Harpy Empire. They said which convoys were worth the risk, how to avoid patrols, and which parts of the empire had enough to raid.” Missy pulled out some soot and drew a map. “They’re gone, and now I have nothing to offer the captains I’m sponsoring. Eventually, people are going to realize that my information is worthless and get help from the other Pirate Lords.”

“What about the Plains?”

“What about the Plains?” She scoffs. “Nothing there but more mouths to feed. Leaving Glacia, Prillia’s biggest trade partner…”

“Thus, your reluctance.”

“That, and they have magic artillery that tears through our wooden airships like paper. The only recourse the pirates of Nancy’s Tavern have is to raid from the New Continent. Which I have virtually no information on.”

“Who does?”

“Goldwing, Black, Zwelle, Crackit, and Oom.” She points to each of their request in turn.

“Then we have a solution. Have them share the information.”

Missy looks at you like your brain hopped out of your skull and walked off. Snapping your fingers to block out the nearby passionate moans, you arrange the requisition forms on the table. You organize them from biggest ally to biggest obstacle.

Oom is first. Her pirates are more well-behaved than most, her product doesn’t interfere with Haven’s, and she was the first to come forwards with information about Venture. Then, Black and Zwelle. They need to be tied to balance their rivalry out, and can serve as deterrents against each other. The two of them moved more product legitimately through Haven than anyone else. Crackit is second to last. The Pirate Lord isn’t the only one among them to be sample the nose candy, and they are prone to violent outbursts in Haven.

But the violence is easily curtailed with the amount of magic, and Crackit has graciously written off the rule-breakers without a fuss. Or he doesn’t care.

“Which brings us to Goldwing.” You crumple up his over-long letter on expensive paper and toss it away. “Who regularly cheats workers and clients, encourages his sponsors to do the same, and is likely to lie to us even if he were to work with us.”

“20,000 copies of his personal memoir is somewhat excessive. And there was no way we were going to publish his potion-making manual. Those recipes were either wasteful or flat-out wrong.” Missy nods and looks over the other pages. “Though you’re acting like I can make the Pirate Lords do anything. I can’t even get them in the same room without them trying to kill each other. As for the resources needed…”

“With Haven, you’ve got access to enough paper for a million books. And we can count on the others without ins to the New Continent to join you when pushing the others to share the information. With the right books, we can get everyone on our side.”

“What books would we print?” Missy brushes your hand off her shoulder. “I see where this is going. If you want your strange summoning tome published first, you’re going to need more than a flimsy plan.”

Another tell told. Curses.

“How about a solid plan?”

Oom wasn’t only chosen because she was a viable option for Haven.

Pirates, being outlaws, don’t like hard rules and regulations. But a ship’s a ship, and discipline is necessary. The laws they need to follow have harsh consequences. They may call it a code, but it isn't exactly official. Depending on the captain, some punishments are lighter. Some are barely punishments at all. And some punishable offenses are used as punishments.

Yes, pirates like raping. Raping is a big reason pirates pirate. Which is why some captains stick to a mono-gendered crew, with the hired ‘relievers’ being the only exception. Oom is the Pirate Lord with the most all-female crews.

The biggest issue for them is the lack of male prostitutes. The second biggest issue is the lack of prostitutes who don’t cause problems. According to Madam Baiser, there’s so much more hassle with men. ‘Cattier than the worst brothel’, she said. ‘First to scab, too.’

Haven imps take up less space and make less problems. They’re versatile enough that Oom’s people will use them for more than just sexual relief. When you tell her that, she sees the sense in your words.

“That’d be giving you a lot of power. Imps could overtake a ship, summon more powerful demons.” She picks up Oom’s request for books on plants. “Oom is cleverer than she lets on. She won’t expose herself like that.”

“Even if we offer her a gift to sweeten the pot?” You place a hammerspace bag next to Missy. “The Lady wants to thank her for speaking up. I trust she can find a use for it?”

Missy frowns at the small bag and upturns it. Nothing comes out. You chuckle and take the bag, placing the printing press on the opening. Missy’s eyes widen as the printing press gets sucked into the bag, then again when you drop it out.

“That is…acceptable.” You nod and unbutton your pants. “Hey? What are you doing?”

“There are beautiful women waiting for me.” You go to the closest one, an equint named Cerulean, and mime knocking the door.

“Come in!” Cerulean springs up in her divan.

“Seriously? I’m right here!” Missy groans. “Can’t you find some privacy?”

“This is private!” Cerulean calls, still believing she’s in a small room. “Close your ears!”

“Don’t mind her.” You stand straight and imitate closing a door behind you. “She’s a distraction, nothing more than a trifle before the true treasure on this city-ship.”

“Oh, Cru-Cru…You’re such a sweetheart!”

You start with some foreplay, gentling caressing her limbs before going all the way down. You run your lips over her vertical slit, your tongue teasing her entrance in tiny flicks.

Missy rolls her eyes and gets back to work. Only to jump when your tail traces the markings on her legs. She looks between the two you’s and clicks her tongue.

“You don’t even care to be with her? Is she just another meal for you?”

“Not just a meal.” You quite like Cerulean. Further, this is an opportunity to practice splitting your consciousness. “I’d like for her to enjoy herself without stuffing her full of my cum.”

“Not worthy of it?” Missy rolls her eyes.

Why does she insist on thinking the worst of you? Niflheim demons must be truly awful.

“She didn’t bring a change of clothes like the others. I’d rather spare her from walking back home, coated in demon jizz.”

Missy snorts. Is she hiding…a smile?

“I bet she’ll beg for it. Even threaten to go out in the streets naked.”

“Strange bet. Say I agree, would you agree to let us print the summoning books first?”

“Only if you give me another one of those bags when you lose.”

“Deal.” You shake on it.

You are tired, hungry, and in pain. Normal, considering until recently, you were in the care of Oom’s personal ship doctors. You are Venture, and you try to avoid looking into Rumpelstiltskin’s face. The face of your former captain.

Except it’s not Rusty. It hasn’t been Rusty for a while. Behind those sunglasses is a dangerous demon, one that lured your captain to riches…before stealing his body and soul. You stepped out of the cabin for one minute as he was celebrating his gains. When you came back, Rusty was gone.

Terrifying moment aside, you thought she’d do the same to you. But no, she let you go. Only for a weird wizard to track you down, destroy your ship, strip you of your muscles, rip your tongue out, and left you in the sea to rot. Now the demon is back and her sights are set on you.

She offered your body back. Offered her body.

No way. You stayed far away. But after a few weeks trying to find a ship that would accept you, even as a cabin boy, you realized that you don’t have many options. Practically none.

Most pirates would be dead in your place. Scarred, mute, and weakened as you are, you’d be dead on the streets after a couple days.

You’re all out of money, and hunger serves a great motivator. You went back to Rumpelstiltskin, and he took you to the portal. It’s livelier than you thought it would be. You’re waiting in the basement of the House of Temptation with Rumpelstiltskin, your captain’s puppetted body fluttering from person to person and answering questions. Finally, the bell rings and people walk through the portal. Rumpelstiltskin ushers you forward, and you take the first step.

You’re elsewhere. It’s…very tame. A very bland building with the laws on a board, which you read several times to memorize. You won’t be making Rusty’s mistake.

A horned woman in a cowboy hat taps you on the bicep. She grins, running her hands over your arm.

“Bummer about what happened to ya’.” She tips her hat. “I’m Friday. Lord Quinn wants to meetcha at the hospital. I can offer you a ride…or you can offer me one, big’un.” She finishes huskily and licks her lips.

She’s hot. Most cows have some fat on them, but this girl’s curves are confined to her ass and tits. You wouldn’t mind her ride…You control your erection. Easily, since it’s not intact and any stimulation hurts.

“Wow, that bad?” Friday winces.

YES.

It looks like someone tried smoking a cigar lengthwise. And feels twice as bad.

“Let’s get you to June and July.”

Friday whistles and four imps fly down, holding a carriage by chains. Friday opens the door, tipping her hat and letting you go in. Then she grabs one of the imps and pulls him inside. You try to avoid making eye contact as the imps fly you towards the hospital. Friday tries to get you to look at her as she’s riding the imp’s disproportionate cock, waving her tits in your direction every time she squats.

“Ha~ha~ha~Unf-Unf-Unf-Ough!~OUGH!~OUGH!~”

When the imp cums, Friday pulls herself off his dick and aims it over her stomach. She lets the thick jizz run between her abs and smiles.

“You could have joined in.”

You frown at her and draw a broken cock in the air.

“I meant in spirit, gee. I know minotaurs love a lactatin’ girl, and I’d’ve liked feedin’ ya. Unless you’re into men.” Her smug, teasing smile make you want to prove her wrong. “Ah, never mind. There’s a lot of DESIRE in you, Venture. C’mon.”

You set your jaw and try to ignore the pain in your groin, then waddle after the succubus. In the hospital, Friday winks at the imp receptionist and he waves you through. Leaving her to make bedroom eyes at the imp. Two identical doctors look you over, switching between feeling you up and writing on a clipboard. You’re about to ask if they’re real doctors when one of them cups your balls and frowns.

“Tragic.”

“The damage could be undone.”

“We recommend a protein-rich diet for recovery.”

“Your greatest treasure can be saved.”

MY VOICE?

You were known for your angelic singing voice. You could have done opera. The fact these two could tell as much from getting a bit touchy with your body…these demon twins must be incredibly skilled.

“What? No.”

“Your dick.”

“We can always use more minotaur cocks around here.”

Of course. These damn demons and their damn priorities. The two mirror each other, leaning slightly and tapping their cheeks. If there wasn’t a weird dog-demon strapped to the table in the middle of a live dissection, you’d call them cute.

“I’ve never seen a larynx so damaged.”

“Or a tongue so mangled.”

“Whoever did this to you was skilled.”

“He knew where to strike.”

“And cast a spell to prevent most forms of regeneration.”

They nod in synch. You’re left wondering what the hell the metal wizard guy did to you. What sort of person goes through the trouble of tracking down an airship, throttling someone for information, then blowing up the ship after tearing out your throat?

Clearly, someone with a lot of power, resources, and a massive chip on his shoulder.

A flash of black light, and something red falls onto the ground. You recognize her when she gets to her feet. How can you forget her? The horns, the seductive green eyes, the tail…her tits.

Ow.

“Lord Quinn.”

“Lady Quinn.”

The twin demons incline their heads. The demon, Quinn, brushes some ash off and snaps her fingers, a suit forming around her. She gives another look at the twins, and snaps her fingers again, trading her tight pants to a skirt and leggings. She plops her big butt into a swivel chair and you’re levitated onto a bed.

“Still working on learning teleportation magics?”

“Yes, June.” Quinn runs her hands through her hair, and it instantly adopts a healthy sheen. “Thank you so much for taking care of Venture. Speaking of…hey, big guy! I’m so glad you came by.”

She rolls the chair next to you and walks her fingers up to your neck. A mix of fear and lust fill you, and you avoid looking into the seductress’ eyes.

“We can begin treatment.” June follows on Quinn’s left.

“Since he isn’t a citizen, we can give him the treatment and payment options—” July holds up a clipboard to Quinn, but she pushes it away.

“No way. This is Venture! The guy who helped us escape the slave ship, remember?” Quinn puts her hands on your shoulders and rests her head on your chest. “He reminds me of Tungsten…Hmm.”

Her sigh tickles your pecs and your growing erection hurts more and more. You grit your teeth and try to resist the pain, push it away…but you only start frothing at the mouth. While you’re struggle to remain conscious, some unheard conversation seems to pass rapidly between Quinn and the twin doctors.

“Shoggy?” “And Festa?” The doctors say out loud.

“Yeah. Both of them, I’ve got an idea.” Quinn gets up and teases the edge of her skirt up. “I’ll take care of your clients. Go.”

Something shifts under there. That’s…not standard.

The twins hurry out. Leaving you alone. With the powerful demon that is at least partially responsible for all your problems. Funny that she wants to help you. Or is she tossing people into their personal hell, then pulling them out to make herself a savior? As you think these things, she frowns and twirls her chair around. When she faces you again, she’s wearing a tight, button-up nurse frock.

What’s the point of the dinky little hat?

“Venture, I don’t care what people think about me. But I’d prefer they’d dislike me for me, not some imagined paranoia.” She pouts and snaps her fingers.

Your pants disappear. So do the expensive orthopedic hoofshoes. Damn, the merchant you robbed them from said they did wonders for his lumbago. Wait, your pants! Is she going to rape you? Rob your body of its vitality, then its soul?

“Quit being such a baby.” Quinn rolls her eyes and holds out her hand.

It shifts between glowing gold, green, then black, and the magic covers your body. You almost panic, when her mind touches yours and she dumps a load of information on you. Most of it is how to act in Haven, what to expect...and that since you didn’t snitch, she’ll give you citizenship without paying. And heal you, free of charge. The weird magic was her trying to fix you up, which was harder than she’d thought.

<The malnutrition will take time to recover from, but I can accelerate that healing. I took care of the normal injuries. What took a bite out of your dick, anyways?>

You think about the strange shadow in the water. Its burning teeth. You were so dehydrated and tired, you thought you were going insane.

<Never mind. The sea is fucked up.>

Why does she think everyone uses airships?

<Right. The major problem is your throat. June and July understated it. No matter what magic I use, holy, demonic, arcane…It won’t heal. Holy did the best, but the bad magic sticks to you like a grody stain. And it comes back. I’ve never seen magic like this.>

There’s a knock at the door and the receptionist flies in, miming something. Quinn nods and kicks her chair away from the bed, magicking the curtain closed. Somone else comes in, stops and gasps.

“Lord—”

“Nurse for now. See the hat?” Quinn interrupts the woman.

“Yes! Yes…well, I’ve been trouble recently.”

Quinn listens along and asks questions, then diagnoses the patient. Very professional, for a lust demon. You’d think it would be the end of that.

Nope, the people in Haven are real degenerates. She asks Quinn to impregnate her again, and your mind struggles to understand the whole meaning behind the request. Your brain resets when you hear flesh on flesh slapping and loud moaning.

On the bright side, your erections no longer hurt. Quinn really did fix you.

After the woman leaves, the next few patients come in. A bit eagerly. The same thing would happen again and again. A broken leg, an infection, and other injuries are quickly healed. Then, they’d sheepishly ask Quinn to have sex.

She never says no. You inch closer to the curtains with each patient, and on the last…you couldn’t help it, you masturbate a bit. You stand still when the next patient comes in, close enough to peek through the curtains.

A kobold. You’ve heard of them before, ferocious beings that roam Prillia and parts of the New Continent. This one is about five and a half feet tall, with grayish-white fur. By the size of her boobs, she’s clearly a female.

“White! How are things?”

“Ugh, fine.” She’s wagging her tail. “Other than my back killing me. And Red refuses to go past blowjobs.”

Quinn hums and looks over some notes. She gets up and grabs White’s fat boobs, mashing them around vigorously. The kobold stutters and gasps, her entire body trembles in pleasure.

“Your back hurts because you’ve been abusing breast enhancement potions. You aren’t supposed to grow more than a cup size a week.” Quinn tuts.

“B-but—Ahn-I can’t get Daddy to look at me otherwise. I need Red’s seed, Quinn. Please, can you—”

“White, I can’t condone incest.”

“Y-you fucked your own children in the middle of the p-park yesterday!” White whines.

“Demons don’t count. Unless I get a DNA scrambler or something, I’m not going to help you fuck your dad.” Quinn perks up and lets go of the kobold’s smaller tits. “I’ve got something to do. Why don’t you go over how condoms work with the minotaur jacking off behind the curtain.”

Drat! Curses! Damnation! You stumble back and land on the bed. The curtain opens and the kobold girl glares at you. You try to avoid looking guilty, by looking anywhere but at her. She closes the curtain behind her and tries to tighten her bra, but it slips off her. She scowls more and zips her vest up, discretely rubbing the drool from her snout.

Now that she’s closer, you can really appreciate her form. Minotaur cows have human faces, thought they typically have longer faces and high cheekbones. Males like you, you have bull heads. Makes for sloppy kissing.

You wonder if kobolds are bad kissers too.

“You look awful.” She sits down next to you grumpily. “My father could break you in half.”

Rude. You may be mostly healed, but you still look too skinny to be a healthy bull.

YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WANTS HIM TO BREAK YOU IN HALF

You can at least dish it out. Her ears go back and the fur under her cheeks darkens. Is she blushing?

“You don’t understand. For a kobold, strong males are…intoxicating. I can’t help it if the best possible mate is my da.”

STILL A FATHERFUCKER

“Sh-shut up.” Her eyes widen as she realizes what she said, and her snout puckers into a pout. “You know what I meant. Forget it, lemme show you how to wear a condom.”

She pulls something out of her pocket and is about to unwrap it when she stops to blow into it. There’s a faint whistling sound, and she mutters to herself about taking the wrong one. She takes out another pack and opens it up. She bats away the medical files you used to hide your erection. Then she explains the step-by-step process to wearing a condom.

She slips it on you as the twins come back.

“Lord Quinn, we have it.”

“The tentacle you requested, Lady Quinn.”

Tentacle? You don’t have time to think about it, your mind overwhelmed by your freshly recovered dick getting messily kissed by a kobold.

“Great! Now come kiss Mommy between the legs while she figures out how to make replacement organs.”

You toss your new bag in the air and catch it. Technically, it’s the bag that Crusoe intends to bribe Oom with. But since he lost the bet, you won’t pass it to her until you get your own. You are Missy, and despite all the troubles the demons could present, you’re starting to get swayed by all the advantages.

The radios they sold you gave you important information though newscasts. Not just that, the blueprints you had some apprentices study allowed them to craft basic enchantments to recognize boats carrying such tech. Now you know where the Glacian and Prillian patrol routes are.

To avoid for now, but eventually…

That alone could give you a major advantage over the other Pirate Lords. And the bag is another massive advancement for piratekind.

You have to admit that without the demons, without the damned portal, you’d be lost. Asking Madam Baiser what she honestly thinks about them revealed more questions than answers. They’ve sold their aphrodisiacs at prices exclusive to Baiser’s people, allowing her to dominate the red light district so that the only two major players are her and Goldwing.

You also asked if the quality of her lesser-known job had improved. She just gave you a mysterious smile.

For an information broker, that’s a solid confirmation.

Which surprises you that Crusoe lost the bet. It’s not very widely-known information, but many equints can recognize other tribes based on their markings. A certain tribe is rather infamous  because they formed a strong co-dependent relationship with demons ages ago.

Lust-aligned demons.

They fell, but equints that know their history could recognize them for their markings. And strange culture. According to your informants, one such equint became a citizen of Haven after buying her freedom. And Cerulean is another of that tribe.

Of course she’d beg for Robinson to cum all over and parade her in the streets. That’s practically a marriage proposal. Or an induction ceremony. Or a fertility ritual. It’s a major part of a lot of their rituals.

Robinson didn’t know this and was unprepared.

Just like a man, he delayed it as much as he could. Sent an illusionary copy to each of the other women to suck up their lust while he spent an hour trying to ignore her begging. Hours of him making slow, toe-curling love to her. Each of the others left in turn, until it was only the sweaty, begging equint and him.

And you, tossing your bag in the air as you wait.

Finally, he gives her what she wanted. A thick bukkake, one Cerulean eagerly coats her entire body with. Then she pulls the old ‘Oops, I forgot a change of clothes. Guess I have to make the walk of shame, tee-hee!’, card.

Which Robinson promptly shuts down by summoning illusion clothes over her body. She discreetly tries to take some of it off as she leaves, but is struggling. Robinson settles next to you and slicks his hair back.

You’d be lying if you said you couldn’t find him attractive. You can control yourself, though. It would still be nice to get fucked like those women…if only there was a way to mitigate the addictive qualities that made them fall hopelessly in lust. You wonder if you and your former friend could have worked together to solve that mystery.

“My people checked the summoning rituals you gave us.” Crusoe perks up. “And the descriptions. Are you…Saturday? He sounded obnoxious, but he could create copies of himself. Like you did. And when we tried to summon him, nothing happened.”

Crusoe shakes his head.

“Saturday can make more copies, different from the one I made.” Crusoe’s tail wiggles around and he dispels the illusion over himself.

Slit pupils, horns…how many of those girls would stay with him if they saw him as he is now? At least one, Cerulean is clearly devoted.

“You were honest about the limitations of your summoning circle, so I’ll take your word for it. We tested a few other summons, and they were definitely amenable to the trades mentioned in the book.”

And then some. You nearly had a conniption when you discovered one of the pages missing. One of your underlings simply got a bit attached to one of the succubi. Crusoe stares at you with expectant eyes. You sigh and pick up the requests.

“Okay, we can start printing the summoning tomes. No more than a hundred, though. And we’ll have a random group of non-imps in each one. Can’t have you guys swamped.”

Crusoe’s face is stoic, but his tail is whipping around happily.

“Admirable decision. Collectables are sure to invite interest.”

What does that even mean?

“But after that, we’ll fulfill Oom’s order. Then, Zwelle and Black’s orders.” You pin the orders onto the table and pull the canvas off the printing press. “How long will it take you to finish?”

“A little over a week.”

That’s a lot faster than you thought. Good.

It’s time for Nancy’s most loyal servant to prove herself once more.