The Sword of St. Michael #8

In the morning, she was still in his arms when he awoke. He sat up with a start and looked down at her. She turned to look back at him and smiled. “Devilah! You’re really here!” “Sure I am Sampson. I’m no dream. A dream wouldn’t have helped you piss!”
Suddenly she found herself hugged again with a strength that might have damaged a real Khajiit. “ DEVILAH!” She laughed an pried herself away. “Yes, it’s me! Gotta go pee? I’d be happy to help again!” Sampson laughed for the first time. “If you want to hold my cock, you can hold it all day long!”
“Whoa, you have changed! The offer is tempting, but we’ve got more important things to do first. A bath being one of them.” Sampson got up, still glancing back as if to verify she was really there every few seconds, but got his armor on. “They don’t have a bath in the tavern, but there’s a public bath just a little ways away.” Devilah put her immaculate red outfit back on again and noticed that Sampson did not look away when she adjusted certain parts as he normally did. Something told her she wouldn’t need to host an orgy to get fed any longer.
“You haven’t asked me anything yet, Sampson. About where I’ve been,” she noted as the left the tavern and headed towards the bath. “I guess I thought you’d tell me when you felt like it. All I want to know is if there was anything I did or said…” “You would think it was something about you, you narcissistic asshole!” she complained with a smile as they arrived and began to undress. “No, it had nothing to do with you,” she lied. “Someone from my past… took me away. I had to do something. I should have told you but it was kind of private. And I didn’t expect her to show up when she did. Now help me off with these boots. I don’t know why we bothered to get dressed before a bath anyway!” “So… are you back with me to stay?” “I’m not sure, but I hope so Sampson. I do want to stay with you.”
“Then I will vow to make it so to the best of my ability!” Sampson stated as he led the way into the bath. Looking down at him, Devilah couldn’t help but comment, “Looks like your sword is ready to do battle for me! But let’s get the little guy cleaned off first don’t you think? It would be impolite to wage war with a dirty weapon!” Sampson laughed heartily. “I mean no offense. I can’t help it. But my sword is at your command, Lady Devilah!” “Later big boy. I’ve got to clean my sheath too. So other than getting drunk as a skunk, what else has been going on while I’ve been away? How’s our cash holding out?”
Sampson’s face dropped. “I’m afraid I spent it all. I’ve been doing odd jobs for Keerava around the Bee and Barb for my room and board.” Devilah stood up and looked down at Sampson with real anger in her eyes. “You WHAT?!”
“I’m sorry Devilah. There wasn’t that much left really. And… well… my bar bill got a little higher than normal after you left.” “Sampson, I don’t give a flying fuck about the money. But what the hell are you doing working as a servant?! You’re a FUCKING HERO! Have some self respect! You could have gone to the Jarl and got work at the very least. Dammit Sampson, you’ve got to realize your potential. You’re not some damned drunken servant, even if that’s exactly what you have been! What were you thinking?!” “I… wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to wait for you. I didn’t want to leave the tavern.”
“Devilah, I love you.” And there it was. Out in the open for all to see. Devilah had gotten oaths of love plenty of times. Some guy over near Markarth had crawled on his hands and knees begging her to marry him. But Sampson had – as far as his memory went anyway – never even had sex with her. She sat down hard.
“Oh Sampson. You don’t even know me. In every sense of the term.” “I know you’re… a sensual person Devilah. And I know I’ve kept you away. But that won’t happen again. You have needs I haven’t met. Well that is over. No more vows of chastity for me. We can have a go right here in the bath if you want!”
Devilah laughed out loud. When she got control of herself, she went back to washing. “Sampson, you idiot. Have you ever considered that your vows and self control are what kept me with you so long in the first place? Don’t become my lap-dog now. I’m a sex-crazed Khajiit and I admit it, but I don’t want a lap-dog. I want my hero. But… you can break down once in a while. Like tonight maybe?”
Sampson considered this. “You’re right. It’s not my… idiom. But as for tonight, it’s a date!” “Ooo! I like the sound of that! Now let’s get our clothes back on before I take you and spoil it!

The Sword of St. Michael #7

The streets of Riften were quiet when Devilah stepped through her portal. She looked up at the sign for the Bee and Barb and wondered what had gone on while she had been gone. And not for the first time she wondered why the hell Sampson was still here. Then with a deep breath she stepped into the tavern.
Looking around, she didn’t see Sampson anywhere. But eyes began to turn and widen when they recognized who had just walked in the door. Conversations ceased and mouths gaped. She crossed to the bar when the barmaid looked up from putting something away. Argonian eyes were difficult to read at the best of times, but the intake of breath was unmistakable. Devilah recalled her name, as well as some very personal attributes, immediately. “Keerava?” “Devilah,” said the barmaid, less as a greeting than a statement to make what she was seeing a reality. The succubus nodded. “Yes. I’ve… been away. I wonder if maybe Sampson is…” “He’s in the same room. Hasn’t left.”
Devilah thanked her and turned to go up stairs. “Devilah! Wait.” She turned back, curious. All eyes still watched her every move. What had happened here? Surely a little orgy wouldn’t be that big of a deal? “Devilah, be gentle. He’s not the same man you left. He’s going to have a hard time seeing you again.”
“Thank you Keerava. I will.” “One more thing. You’ve got a good man there Devilah. You may have ruined him. I don’t think you deserve him.” Devilah looked down at her hands and replied quietly as she turned to climb the stairs. “That’s for damned sure.”
Upstairs, she stepped to the door and opened it quietly. The room stank and the figure on the bed was turned away from her. She walked up to him and knelt by the bed. He reeked of alcohol and neglect. Quietly, she said “Sampson?” The big man turned over and opened his eyes blearily but recognized her immediately. Through a drunken haze, he smiled at her. “Devilah. Won’t you come back? Where have you gone?”
Devilah stood, walked back to the door and locked it. Then she removed her outfit and lay down atop the stinking drunk, enfolding him in her arms. His eyes never left her as he returned the embrace. He didn’t even blink, as if fearing that doing so would break the enchantment. Perhaps another person would have recoiled at his appearance and neglect. But compared to the place she had just come from, his breath smelled of lilac and cinnamon. “Sampson. I’m back.”
His eyes welled with tears as he held her tighter. Finally he closed them and said, “This… is a good dream.” Devilah felt something wrong with her own eyes, but closed them and felt the big man’s breathing stutter a few times. “It’s not a dream, Sampson. I am here.”
He opened his eyes again and looked at her. “I’m sorry Devilah. For whatever I did, I’m sorry. If you’re still here in the morning, I’ll never touch another drop again. Just please be here in the morning.” She laughed quietly. “I’m not going anywhere you big lunk.”
They just held each other for a long time. Finally Sampson stumbled out of bed. “I’ve… got to go downstairs for a minute. But will you really still be here when I get back?” Devilah noticed the awkwardness and unbalanced state of the big man and shook her head. “I’ll go with you.” The tavern below once again went quiet when a still-drunk Sampson staggered through the tavern with a naked Khajiit steadying him. She held his penis as he relieved himself in the privy, and they both returned back to their room. Sampson never took his eyes off of her, and she felt more than a little guilty for this amount of adulation from a man she had promised to murder.
Back in bed, she snuggled up and pulled his arms back around her as he murmered something in her ear and fell back to sleep, breathing in the smell of her to mix with his dreams all night long. “Stupid lunk,” she thought to herself as she let herself drift off too. “Idiotic, brain-dead sod. Why in hell do I like you so much? Here I am naked next to a man with a penis that could rock my world and instead of fucking his brains out, I’m letting him sleep. Damn girl, you’ve changed!”

The Sword of St. Michael #6

Agrat looked at Devilah scornfully. Insubordination against superiors was certainly grounds for more punishment. But she was thinking and she decided to ignore it. She paced back and forth for a bit. Finally she turned back to Devilah. “Are you Good?” she asked straight out. “Me? I sure don’t think so,” the succubus replied honestly.
“No… I don’t think so either. I’ve never heard of a succubus switching sides. Still, if it’s your destiny, there’s nothing we can do about that. But maybe there is something we can do until then. You still have some time available on your original Skyrim mission. Would you be trustworthy to go back again?” Devilah kept her face calm, but suddenly her mind was racing. “Go back?! Would she really be permitted to return after what she’d done? But… Dammit, she’d given up that hope. Now Agrat was dangling it in front of her again?! Suddenly Devilah realized that this was the real torture, even if the demoness didn’t realize it. She could not betray her thoughts though. If she appeared too eager, Agrat wouldn’t trust her.” “Give me those batteries and I’ll go back,” she said, nonchalantly – deftly implying that she had to be bribed to return. “But why? What do you have in mind?”
“Do you think you can recover the Sword? If it could be brought here, the master would be well pleased. And in turn, so would I. We might even be able to forgive your mistakes and give you a new assignment. There’s a heroic Khajiit in Elseweyr that’s making trouble. You could have a second chance. If you can return with the sword.” “A holy relic, here? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” “Hell no it’s not a good idea! It’s an EVIL idea! We may not be able to touch it, but you can! And if it’s here it can do no more harm in Tamriel. How the hell it got there though I can’t imagine.” Devilah shrugged. “I could ask Sampson where he got it. Perhaps that may give us a clue? But wait. There’s a big problem with your idea.”
The demoness focused on her. “What?” “We have no idea where Sampson is. How long have I been here?” Agrat’s face relaxed. “It’s only been three months. But that will be no problem. He’s still in Riften. I have other sources there. For some reason he’s stayed there all this time.” Devilah nearly screamed, but she managed to keep her face composed. “Still there?” she thought. “You idiot, why the hell are you still there, Sampson? I knew you were stupid but what the fuck?” Her mind was in such turmoil she barely registered that Agrat was still speaking.
“…care that much where it came from. But you have another objective, Devilah. Sampson cannot be allowed to live. You must kill him, and the sooner the better.” “Kill him? You know that’s not in my mandate. I don’t kill!” “You do now. Sampson is a danger as long as he lives. He’s a true hero, and will wreak havoc on our plans there. He must be stopped permanently. If you won’t kill Sampson, I’ll send someone else. I’d rather you do it as you have the unique ability among us to be able to touch the Sword, and he trusts you.”
Devilah nodded and thought rapidly. “If you can get me the mandate, I’ll kill him. And bring back the Sword. But you’ve got to give me some time. He’s not going to part with the Sword willingly and he’s far to good to defeat openly in battle. I don’t trust poison either. I’ll need to find some other way.” Agrat considered this. Devilah did know him best. She came to a decision. “Okay, you’ve got one week tops. I’d prefer you get it done in less time. If he still lives and we haven’t got the Sword by that time, I’ll report it to the Master and let him decide your fate and what to do about Sampson. Don’t fuck this up Devilah. You’ve got the mandate from me. You are licensed to kill on my authority.” Devilah felt something change within her. A mandate for lethal action was way above her pay grade. There were very few Hellions with that mandate as its use raised the attention of powers both Above and Below. She would only be able to use it once, and then she’d best get back to Hell as soon as possible or there would be repercussions. The battle between Good and Evil was not to be waged directly in the middle realms like this, she knew. She also knew one other thing. She was lying.
“When do I leave?” “Right away, but not so fast Devilah. I require a condition.” “A condition? What?” “You will open a portal and return to me here every night at midnight and report on your progress. And you will be monitored for compliance. You won’t be running away this time, Devilah.” “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she lied. She only wished she had a plan, but a week could be a long time. Surely some idea would come to her before then. But this was going to complicate matters. Still, she really had no choice.
“Good. Here’s your wings back. Now get me that Sword, Devilah. Your future depends on it. And get rid of that pest. We don’t need another hero in Skyrim. Place is crawling with them anyway.” Devilah stretched her wings, glad to feel them once again behind her shoulders. “I will, Agrat. You can count on me. Oh, what time is it there?” “Just before 1:00 am. You’ve got 7 nights to get it done. Don’t forget to report back in nightly. Be ready and work quickly.” “I will,” Devilah said, trying hard to contain her emotions as she stretched her wings and tested them.
“Devilah? Aren’t you forgetting something?” Agrat said from behind her as Devilah opened the portal. Devilah suddenly felt flushed with fear. What had she betrayed? “I don’t think so. I have the coordinates for Riften.” Devilah looked back at her Superior curiously as Agrat tossed something to her. Devilah caught it reflexively and looked down at what she held.
“A 4 pack of D-cells. Copper top, just like you asked,” Agrat smiled. Devilah laughed, pulled her vibrator out and inserted the batteries. “Thanks!” she replied sincerely as a strong humming sound filled the air before she switched it off. “Well, us girls have to stick together. You have the coordinates back here?” “Of course. Getting into Hell is never a problem!” “Then go ahead. I’ll meet you back here at midnight tomorrow.” Devilah conjured her outfit back on and regretfully banished her wings again. Then she stepped through her portal with a new mission into midnight in Riften. “I’m coming you idiot,” she thought to herself.

The Sword of St. Michael #5

“It’s not that time actually flows differently down here,” Devilah mused to herself as Agrat abused her body on a new torture device. “It’s that perception is so vastly different. It’s a mental change in time. For instance, how long was I in that cage before she moved me to that hobby-horse? To me it felt like days of her rambling on about the various indignities she was going to inflict, but how long was it really?”
Much later she was idly wondering if a watch would even work down here. “I suppose it would have to work. It’s just an over-complex pendulum after all, and a pendulum sure as hell works down here!” she thought to herself. She looked around. “Where am I now? Oh! On a wheel. Well that’s interesting.”
She had to give some credit to Agrat. These devices were imaginative, if pretty barbaric. But then, the denizens of hell did tend to be conservative in their thinking. Access to all the technology from other universes, but they stuck with the old standbys. Well, she was glad she wasn’t a Inquisitor like Agrat anyway. How boring. Pain was boring. Even the various… materials? objects? items? Yes, that was the best term. Even the various items that Agrat had found to use on or in her were boring. And that affected time. Or at least, perceived time.
How long had she been down here? Unfortunately there really was no way to know. No external light. The fires never burnt out. Her own skin repaired itself so there wasn’t even any scarring around her mouth that had been forced with this gag for so long. There was only her own perception, and that was faulty. She wondered how long Agrat thought she’d been at it? Surely it wasn’t as boring for her. Would that make time pass faster or slower? She’d have to ask her whenever she finally removed the gag.
One thing Agrat had been wrong about. Her cage that she was returned to when Agrat left on periodic excursions out to other realms was not, in fact, a toilet. A succubus simply did not evacuate waste like other demons or even mortal creatures did. All her orifices were for extracting food. What happened to it? Devilah had no idea. Didn’t bother her. And now that Devilah found herself once more back in her cage, she was glad of it. The ambient smell was bad enough, but adding her own sewage to it would have beenf… too much. As if ‘too much’ was a consideration here. She decided to sleep for a while. It wasn’t something she needed, but there was no way to know when Agrat would return and there was certainly nothing else to do in here.
She wasn’t sure if she was sleeping or not when Agrat returned. Her tormentor had made a big mistake last time. She’d brought a rather large male animal in and had him ‘rape’ her, thinking that would be offensive. “Stupid Agrat,” Devilah thought as she watched Agrat cross towards her again. “You can’t rape a succubus! It’s like trying to drown a fish. ‘please, Brer Fox, please don’t throw me into the briar patch!’. She’s just not very bright.” But Devilah had played her part, screaming and struggling as she was supposedly raped. And now she was refreshed. She had no idea what that animal had been called, but it had supplied her with plenty of food. She’d be fine for another week after that.
Finally the day came when Devilah returned looking different. Gone was the fury from her eyes. “Alright Devilah. I’m tired of this,” Agrat nodded and the gag disappeared. Devilah worked her jaws and tried to remember how to talk. Devilah noticed that the demon kept her human form though. “Hate this body indeed,” Devilah thought. “She loves it. Can’t feel much when you’re just a living flame I guess.” “So, let’s talk instead,” Agrat said. The cage suddenly disappeared and Devilah found herself sprawled on the floor. She cowered in pretended fear of her superior. “What happened up there, Devilah? I want to know. Oh, go on. You can talk. If I wanted you silent I’d have kept your gag in. What happened? By all indications, you had him!”
“I did. I had him. Multiple times.” “I believe it! The meters almost swung back to net evil. Damnation Devilah, you won! Why did you erase his memory? He could have turned evil after that!” Devilah shook her head in memory. “No. He couldn’t have. Sampson is Good through and through. Stupid but Good. He’s a male, true, but he didn’t fuck me because of animal lust. He fucked me because he knew I wanted it, and… he thought he’d killed me.”
“Killed you? How on the hell could he have killed you? Didn’t you say you thought he…” “Loved me? Yes. I think he did too. But I revealed myself to him. It had been too long, and I had my own reasons. I came to him with my wings on, in full succubus mode. He was scared of the change. He pulled the sword out in defense, but I was moving to fast in my hunger. I hit the sword.” “So? Obviously you weren’t skewered. What’s the big deal?”
Devilah debated internally for a minute, but could see no reason not to tell the whole truth. And despite the ordeal this bitch had put her through, it had been Devilah’s actions that had led to her own humiliation. Maybe she did owe her a full explanation anyway. She decided to tell all of it… “The sword…” “Yes… the sword. I told you there was something odd about it. It doesn’t register on our devices. What about the sword?” “It rang off me like I was made of solid iron Agrat. But it had gone through those assassins like a hot knife through butter.” The demoness looked at her, puzzled. “Think about it Agrat. Don’t you remember your Terran Universe studies? ‘It cannot pierce the flesh of a soul destined for Good’! Her eyes growing wide, Agrat looked at Devilah with a mix of horror and delight. "The Sword of St. Michael!? He has the Sword of St. Michael!”
“But that means you are…” the demoness realized as she considered this. “Destined for Good. Yeah, I know.” “Is that possible?” “Don’t ask me!” Devilah shouted, showing real anger for the first time. “I’m just a succubus! I suck and fuck and sodomize and live on ejaculate. How the hell am I supposed to know? You’re my Superior! I was just doing my damned job up there!”

The Sword of St. Michael #4

Devilah found herself back where she had started. Despite her joking with Sampson earlier, the stench here made Riften smell like a clean spring morning. Here, all was putrid, burned or rotting. The only thing that could be said for the place was it never needed heating.
She knew better than to resist Agrat, especially when her boss was in this state. As her superior, Agrat had complete control over her by a mere nod of the head. To resist was futile. She had, as the phrase went, abandoned all hope. At least, she thought as she knelt awaiting Agrat to deliver her punishment, she finally got a chance to stretch her wings out again and get out of that conjured outfit. “So, Devilah. I wonder if you have any idea of what your actions have caused to happen down here. What they caused to me?”
“I’m sorry Agrat! It was like thi…” she began, but suddenly a gag appeared in her mouth. “No. No, I don’t think I’d like to hear your excuses. Instead, you listen to me. Our master was very displeased. For just a moment Skyrim hesitated towards our cause, but then it swung back. Way back. It could not escape his notice after that. So he called me into his office. We discussed the matter… at length. Intensely. IN DEPTH! I told him all. And then… The things that were done to me… the things that were inserted into me… THE THINGS THAT SLITHERED OUT OF ME!” Devilah had never seen a demon shudder before. She decided she wouldn’t try imagining it. Instead her thoughts turned elsewhere. But Agrat was continuing after she’d gained control of herself again.
…but no. You couldn’t know. You couldn’t imagine. But you will, Devilah. Oh yes, you will. I learned much from our master. He is very imaginative. Very creative. I learned much from him! Shall I teach you Devilah? Yes. I think I will. I’ll teach you a lot of new and interesting things,“ the demon continued. "In the end, he released me. Do you know why? He released me so that I could find and deal with you. I will now focus only on you. I will concentrate on you. You are now the most important thing in the world to me, dearest Devilah. OH HOW I WILL TEACH YOU!” she screamed at the end. Devilah wasn’t listening anymore. She was remembering someone.
Agrat looked menacingly down at the small succubus grovelling before her a moment. “I can conjure up a lot of devices. But alas, they aren’t designed for winged victims. Those have got to go!” And suddenly Devilah’s wings were gone. Once again she appeared to be an ordinary, if exceptionally voluptuous, Khajiit. A Khajiit very much alone. She would miss her wings. “Do you like my playpen? We’ll be spending a lot of time here, you and I. I’ve warmed it up for you. I had plenty of time to prepare for your arrival. I have devices ready to conjure up that you’ve never seen before! I’m so happy to have you here now, to show you my toys!”
“Here’s one I like. It’s not terribly creative, but it’s very effective. Let me show you.” Suddenly Devilah found herself in a cage, quite small and hanging from the ceiling. Too small to stand up in, and her wrists were bound behind her back. “It’s made of iron. Quite sturdy. And you’ll notice there is no door. No need for pesky imagined scenarios of escape. It’s sanitary too! Everything just drops to the floor below you. Just think, Devilah, no need to go to a privy in there! You’re already in one! You’ll also find that you can’t stand up. It’s amazing how much you’ll want to stand up – but you can’t. Your legs will atrophy. You’ll dream of just standing. Walking will be a distant memory. Running won’t even be a memory…”
Then the demon seemed to change her mind. “But no. There’ll be plenty of time for that later. But it’s too boring. I’ve got much more EXCITING devices to show you. They tend to be wooden though. My flames burn them. Why wouldn’t I make them of iron you ask? Why, the splinters! Splinters are excruciatingly delicious! You won’t mind if I change into a more… conventional body will you?” Devilah couldn’t speak if she’d wanted to. Instead she shook her head without even looking at Agrat. “Very well!” Agrat laughed and suddenly her natural flame-body resolved into that of a human… almost. The reptile-like wings clearly bespoke the demon that occupied it. “There,” Agrat spoke in a much different voice.
“Oh I hate this body,” Agrat lied. “But for you, I’ll tolerate it. Everything for you, Devilah. But where to start, where to start? There’s just so much to choose from! You’ll ride a rather unusual horse, hang from chains in so many delightful configurations, spin around on a nifty wheel that our master showed me. It’ll be a veritable fun-ride Devilah! You’ll have such a good time you’ll never forget it. It will be burned into your memory forever.”
But again Devilah wasn’t listening. She was thinking of time. How time moved so differently down here than in the world she’d just left Sampson in. Sometimes faster, sometimes slower, but always different. “What must he be thinking?” she thought as Agrat rambled on. He would have started asking around about where his little Khajiit had gone that night. And they’d have told him all about her little party. Would he believe them? Knowing Sampson, he probably wouldn’t. Dense as mud. But eventually he might. He’d find out she’d fucked every male in the tavern. Oh shit, admit it, every female too. And he’d be pissed. He’d spit on her memory. Would it make any difference if he knew what she was? Probably not.
“…into every orifice you have, and a few you haven’t got yet!” Agrat was droning on. Trying to scare her, or just making promises to appease her desire for vengance? Devilah decided she didn’t care. Agrat was just blowing off steam. This could continue for hours before she even got around to actually doing anything. But she would eventually. The funny thing is that the fire-demon didn’t even know. How could a demon that had spent so much time with her not know? She was a SUCCUBUS damn it. Agrat was not. She actually thought a succubus could be tortured! But a succubus was different. She was no regular demon. Even incubus’ didn’t have her capacity for pain. Hell, she didn’t even feel pain – not like they did. The body, no even the mind of a succubus was different. She could feel pain, but it had no effect on her at all. And degradation? A succubus? The thought of degrading a succubus was complete madness. No succubus cared a whit about what was done to their body! And to top it all off, her body regenerated at a ridiculous rate! She’d be good as new within minutes of anything this laughable bitch could do to her.“
Only a few things could really hurt a succubus. Lack of ‘food’ for one. That would weaken her. Like a vampire, she would weaken till she was little more than a wilted bag of flesh and bone. In theory it could kill her if left without it for long enough. But males had been so numerous and so willing, it had never been a concern. But there were no males here. Fortunately she’d stored up so much that she was good for months. Even Agrat would tire of her tortures after that long. But… she did hurt. She hurt every time she thought of Sampson. She wanted to talk to him, just for a few minutes. She would feel so much better if she could just explain some things to him. Just to explain how she felt about him despite the things she had done. But that wasn’t going to happen now. All she could do now was to put up with Agrat until she tired of punishing her. Well, she could do that. She’d play the game for this insane bitch. She’d scream her lungs out, faint, whatever seemed appropriate. If only she could stop thinking of Sampson for just a little while!

The Sword of St. Michael #3

A month passed in the world of the living. In the tavern of the Bee and Barb, a man sat at the bar speaking in hushed tones to the Argonian bartender. “Still here eh?” he asked quietly. Keerava looked up at the ceiling reflexively. “Yes. He just won’t leave. Every day he goes out searching, and every night he comes back and drinks himself into Oblivion.”
“Sad case. No sign of her I suppose?” “Nothing. Just that bit of charred lock of hair we found outside the door the next morning,” she admitted, shaking her head sadly. “Have you told him? About… that night?” Keerava suddenly looked at him with real anger on her face. “What about that night?! It was a normal night like any other, and damn you to hell if you say anything different!”
Asgeir held up his hands. “Whoa! Back off Keerava. Of course it was.” “Good,” she replied, calming down. “It’s taken me forever to get Talen-Jai back to normal. I had to threaten to fire him if he kept coming on to me when I caught him standing over me while I was sleeping one night!” “You were pretty good,” Asgeir smiled at her. She held up a mug menacingly, but smiled back. “I’ve got a pewter mug and I know how to use it!” she warned.
“Well, you were. What the hell happened to us?” Keerava shrugged. “Damned if I know. Something about that cat though. Made me wet just to look at her!” Asgeir nodded. “Yeah, made me hard as a rock. Even made you look good to me!”
“Hey! I’m the one that managed to take a bunch of scale-less skin-pricks up my…. Well. It’s over now. And forgotten, right?” “I suppose, though you sure felt good inside!” “Shut it monkey boy. You won’t be getting inside me again so you might as well forget it. As should we all.”
“Hell of a party though. One HELL of a party,” he said, adding, “Still, don’t you think he should know? Maybe it will get him to leave her memory be if he knows.” “I’ve thought about it. He’s absolutely convinced she was some sort of virginal angel. Thick as a brick. If I tried to tell him, he’d call me a liar. Probably take my head off for sullying the memory of his cat.” “Whatever she was, she was no cat. So, how are you going to get rid if him?” Keerava shrugged. “He’s out of money, but I let him work for his board. Works hard too. If he had scales I’d trade Talen-Jai for him I swear. Worth the boarding, but it’s no life for a man like him. And…”
“You feel sorry for him,” Asgeir finished for her. “As much as this damned place lets you feel sorry for anyone.” “Yeah. Me too. All that drink is going to bring him down, and at the rate he’s been going it won’t be long.”
“Shh! Here he comes now.” “Damn, he looks like a walking zombie!” Asgeir commented quietly as they watched Sampson cross the room to the privy downstairs. “Does he often walk around in just his underwear like that?”
Keerava shook her head. “Only when he’s so drunk he doesn’t remember to get dressed. He won’t last long like this. But what can you do? He’s just pining away, and no mistake.” “I wonder what happened to her? A shame to see a man reduced to… that.” “Who knows. A dragon maybe. But one thing’s for sure. Whatever happened to her, she’s not coming back.”
The warrior returned, went back up to his room and shut the door. Bleary eyed, he looked around with the unfocused memory of the inebriated, as if the person he sought might be found in a corner or under the bed. He then offered up a prayer to whatever Gods might hear him, asking only that Devilah be safe wherever she was before crying out, “Oh Devilah, WHERE ARE YOU!?”
Finally he sat back with his head in his hands and cried quietly before falling to sleep, trusting in the solid walls to keep his grief private. As he drifted off, he once again affirmed to himself that he would not leave this tavern till she returned.

The Sword of St. Michael #2

Author: Yeah, this is really just porn. Fits in context but… yeah. Orgy ensues. Two hours later, all but the most hardy of the males had become pretty well useless and spent. But that was all right. Devilah was more than sated. Her rather unusual body chemistry soon had her fur back to it’s normal lustrous shine, having absorbed the contents ‘donated’ to her by the male revelers in the tavern. She was pretty sure she’d gotten some from all of them. Even the Argonian. Not that she had been neglected by the female patrons by any means. But only the males could provide that special substance she needed as food, though it didn’t matter where or how it was delivered to her, all was absorbed. Still, the attention by the females was in it’s way even more pleasant, simply because it wasn’t done for need – it was done for lust and lust only.
Later she found herself laying on the bar, a flaccid male behind her, idly teasing her while she watched the two Argonians show what real stamina was. From behind her, the man asked “So what is this, like the 4th round for them?”. Devilah couldn’t remember his name. She wasn’t sure she even remembered his face. She did remember his phallus.
“Depends on how you’re counting, ” she replied. “Third for him. I’d say she’s up around ten. But she’s still as turned on as ever. See the way her eyes are rolled back in her head? And the way she still meets his thrusts every time… That’s a true orgasmic coma there. She’s just a sex animal now. Pure lust. Probably walk like a penguin tomorrow, but she’s in heaven right now.”
“Damn. Must be nice.” “Oh, it is! But sorry, males can’t achieve it. Your orgasms are deeper, but fleeting. Only a female can enter that state of true wanton lust,” Devilah explained, watching the coupling pair distractedly as the man behind her began to fondle her between her legs. She lifted one leg to allow him access, her eyes never leaving the mating Argonians. While the male behind her surely could no longer maintain an erection, she was pleasantly surprised by his enthusiasm and found herself once again feeling interested by his manual technique. When he turned around and planted his face firmly against her behind, she began to moan and thrust against his tongue and nose, to the rhythm of the lovers she was watching.
Suddenly the male Argonian bellowed and the female slumped to the ground, her ass and tail shaking. They were now the only part of her that seemed to have any life as the male spasmed and left his deposit in her. Between the sight of the skewered Argonian female in front of her being hammered by the ejaculating male, and the tongue of the human male thrusting into places that were not designed for such thrusting, she could hold her own orgasm back no longer and moved to straddle man’s head underneath her.
In the throes of her passion, she seemed to be trying to insert him bodily into her own rectum. But when the waves had receded from her mind somewhat, she noticed she still had the male’s head underneath her weight, and released him. He was unconscious, and a pang of worry washed over her. Even in her most evil days, she never actually killed her lovers! But then he shook, took a deep gasp and began breathing again, his eyes opening. Yet, as if nothing had happened, he smiled at her and once again began toying with her body. “You must really love Khajiits!” she said. “Female ones shaped like you? Oh, I do!” he said and began to lick her again, seemingly oblivious to his recent near-suffocation.
She lay her head back onto the bar. The Argonian lovers had separated, a pool gathering under the female’s still exposed rear. Devilah’s eyes wandered over the bar and along the wall to the fireplace. “So bright,” she thought. Suddenly, she realized that something was looking back at her from the flames.
“Devilah,” it said. The succubus instantly looked away. But something was already wrong. The licking of the man between her legs was slowing… stopping. Time was locking up. A time bomb had gone off. She got off the bar in an instant, her clothes back on with the speed of thought.
While she still had any time at all, she raced towards the door and managed to get out into the street before time had completely stopped for the world around her. But she hadn’t gotten far enough away, she knew. “Devilah,” a voice said behind her, stepping out of the bar. “The party’s over. It’s time to come home.” The nearby lights cast shadows, but a much brighter light’s shadow was cast in front of her, flickering as if generated from a flame. A very large flame.
“Goodbye Sampson,” she thought to herself as she turned to face the inevitable behind her. “I loved you, in my way. I hope somehow you will know that.” Out loud she looked up. “Hello Agrat,” she said, sighing as her life in the mortal world ended.

The Sword of St. Michael #1

Author: Sorry for the excessive exposition. I have to assume some may not have read Sampson and Devilah, so I need to catch them up on the background a bit. Meet Sampson. Like Samson, he has the strength of ten men. Like Simpson, the wisdom of Homer. He travels the wilderness of Skyrim with his trusted Khajiit companion, Devilah, bringing law and justice to the land. Having successfully defeated the Assassin’s Guild, he was led to the infamous Black Cat. Unfortunately the heinous villain, shunned even by the Assassins, turned out to be nothing more than a lonely Khajiit who actually left the Assassins because she couldn’t kill anyone. Now the pair has traveled to the town of Riften, known for its Thieves Guild (but even more for it’s stinking ‘river’ that hasn’t actually flowed anywhere for years). Their goal, to wipe out the Thieves as they had the Assassins.
Little did Sampson know that his companion was, in fact, a succubus whose original intent was to seduce the hero which would bring fame and notoriety to both her and her hellish ‘friend’ from the underworld, seen only in flames. However, Devilah’s plan was thwarted when she discovered that she kinda liked the big lunk and really didn’t want to leave him. After a mutually satisfying tryst, she reverted to her feigned appearance as a (somewhat) normal Khajiit and caused him to forget her true nature. Instead, she had guided him to seek out the Thieves Guild in Riften so that their travels could continue and she could stay with Sampson a little longer.
Now, the pair sat in their room at the Bee and Barb, dejectedly, having returned from yet another fruitless day of searching for thieves in need of Sampson’s brand of Justice. “Devilah, I fear this quest is… not what we’d hoped. It’s not like delivering Justice to Assassins is it?” Sampson stated flatly to his companion. Devilah had to sigh in agreement. “No, not really.”
“Killing assassins is noble and just, but some of these thieves are little more than youths. And not all that evil really. I’ve not killed a single thief in the week that we’ve been here, and I don’t think I will. They’re just poor people!” “I think you’re right. And the gold that we ‘liberated’ from the Assassin’s guild is starting to run out too. I thought we’d be knee-deep in it by now. You’d think a Thieves Guild would have some gold anyway!” “Not here apparently,” agreed Sampson before adding hastily, “…not that we care about such things mind you.”
“…and. This place stinks,” Sampson said, curling his nose. “Reeks,” Devilah agreed. “I’ve smelled better air at the bottom of a Draugr’s pit.” Devilah laughed, suggesting instead, “…a Hagraven’s tail feathers.” Sampson shook his head, smiling. “…a Giant’s latrine!” “The shit pit of the Eighth Circle, Bolgia 2!”
“What?” Sampson’s smile turned to confusion as he looked at the Khajiit’s bright laughing eyes. “I said the… Oh! Um… Never-mind. But anyway, I guess we need a new goal,” Devilah said, quickly changing the subject. “I guess I could become an adventurer. Or join up with some army or city guard.” Devilah looked at him seriously. “You will NOT become some faceless soldier Sampson. You are a hero. Such a fate is in no way destined for my… for you.”
“Well, let’s sleep on it. Maybe something will come to us.” Devilah nodded happily. “You know, that whole vow thing… kinda pointless if we have no goal. Do you think, maybe just this once? At least until we have a new goal?” Sampson shook his head in negation. “Nay my virginal friend. We’ve not yet abandoned this noble pursuit.” “Just a little suck maybe?” “No. But… you can sleep in this bed with me… if you want.” Devilah looked away and muttered, “prude” under her breath. “Goodnight dear companion,” Sampson said, laying back in his bed and closing his eyes. “Goodfrump” said the succubus, frustrated yet again.
Minutes later Sampson was sleeping soundly and Devilah pulled out her industrial strength vibrator, it’s batteries still dead. “Fat lot of good you are, Mr. Sparky,” she thought to herself. The last time Devilah had communicated with her accomplice was before the revelation at Castle Kitty. The demon had promised to send some batteries. A promise from a demon? Yeah, right. But then Devilah had discovered that not only was Sampson carrying the famed Sword of St. Michael, but that she herself was destined to be Good. It still seemed incredible. How could she, a succubus, possibly be destined for that fate?! But the sword had rang off her body like it had hit an iron wall. And then she had taken the hero. Taken him a lot. Taken a lot of him! But there had been a problem. It wasn’t done for lust. In his eyes, behind the carnal hunger, was something else. Worse yet, she knew that something was within her as well. She couldn’t name it, but it was there.
She put the useless sex toy away and looked down at Sampson while thinking. Her Flame-Girl friend would be furious. Agrat bat Mahlat by full name. But Devilah had negated any evil her conquest might have earned her by causing him to lose that memory. “No memory? Then it didn’t happen.” was the meme. Her assistance with the elimination of the Assassins guild had weighed against her too, though it would have been overcome had she got Sampson to break his vow. But now… Agrat was probably on the warpath. Literally. She would be looking for Devilah. Probably perform an Inquisition. The succubus figured her best course of action was to lay low for a while. Since then Devilah avoided looking directly at any flames in hopes that it would prevent Agrat from knowing her whereabouts. Just for a while. It couldn’t work forever though. There would come a reckoning, she knew.
She left the room. Sleep was at most an indulgence that Succubus’ didn’t require. What she did require was sustenance. Male sustenance. As she walked out, she looked back at Sampson. It wasn’t cheating, after all. She’d certainly been more than clear what she wanted from him. And it was simply her nature. What else could she do? She’d die without it. She didn’t need much, after all. But she needed some. Even as a succubus she didn’t quite understand how it worked, but she didn’t need to understand it. She just needed it like a vampire needs blood. Already she felt drained in both body and spirit. Well, she had some draining of her own to do. She’d waited as long as she could, but now she could wait no longer. She wasn’t even sure why she had waited anyway. Before… that day… she certainly hadn’t hesitated! What had changed? Well, no matter. She was hungry now, in the succubus way. Somebody was going to get lucky tonight. Damned lucky.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com