by M. E. Hydra
Something terrible was taking place in that room, but he couldn’t quite see. If only he could look a little…
Verdé put her hands on either side of his face and turned his head until he was staring directly into her bright green eyes.
“Don’t spend too long staring at Cέrμləa’s pictures,” Verdé said. “You might find yourself becoming part of them.”
Phil blinked and then shuddered. He kept his eyes straight ahead. Cέrμləa was dancing down the corridor with innocent abandon. What was she?
The corridor terminated in a baby-blue wooden door. Fluffy white clouds were painted onto the panels.
Verdé stopped. “These are Cέrμləa’s chambers. We cannot enter without her permission.”
Verdé stared at Phil. Once more her face swam with strange emotions. Again Phil thought he could see down to the graceful leviathans turning in her depths.
He didn’t get a chance to look for long as she suddenly wrapped her arms and wings around him and pulled him close to her in a tight embrace. Her soft lips met his and he melted in her arms under the kiss.
Phil’s mind sailed off on a sensual cloud. Her erotic aura enveloped him completely. His blood sang through his veins. Her arms were around him. Her wings were stretched around his back. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her lips, those soft luscious lips, were crushed against his.
Phil was submerged completely beneath her sensuality. He drowned.
She ended the kiss and finally he was able to come back up for air. Phil’s knees trembled like rubber bands. The last time she’d been this intense was when she’d taken his virginity.
Verdé turned her back on him and walked away down the corridor without a backwards glance. Still reeling from the kiss, Phil watched her go with a stunned expression.
“Be very careful with Cέrμləa,” Rosa whispered in his ear. “Her mind has…flaws.”
She lightly kissed him on the lips before following Verdé down the corridor. Phil felt totally confused.
A hand grabbed his and pulled. Phil turned and looked down into the impish face of Cέrμləa.
“Come on,” she said. “Come and play with me.”
She dragged Phil through the door and into a small hallway lined with simple wooden doors.
“Now where shall we play,” Cέrμləa said, her face pursed in concentration.
She opened a door onto a child’s bedroom. A gigantic bed was covered in giant, overstuffed toys. Phil’s discomfort grew. This was wrong on every single level.
“Too sissy,” Cέrμləa said, slamming the door shut.
“How old are you?” Phil asked, finally plucking up courage to ask the question.
“461019,” Cέrμləa answered. “Seconds,” she added as she skipped from door to door.
She paused and put a thoughtful finger on her chin.
“Or is it centuries. I always get those two muddled up. Never mind.”
She pulled open another door. Phil was surprised to see bright sunshine pour into the hallway. On the other side was a pretty little suburban garden with a small wooden swing.
Outside? But that wasn’t possible. They were somewhere near the middle of the castle.
And it was night.
“Too bright,” Cέrμləa said, slamming the door shut.
She went onto the next door.
“Ah, this is the room.”
She grabbed Phil’s hand and excitedly pulled him through. The room beyond looked like a cross between a hidden grotto and something out of the Arabian Nights. A large round bed hung with delicate silks took up most of the space. The silk hangings stretched around the room, forming complex curtains and layers on the walls. Light came from bright, phosphorescent blue crystals in tall metal stands. In front of the bed was a small, perfectly circular pool. The water glowed with the same phosphorescent blue as the crystals.
“Perfect,” Cέrμləa said. She jumped up and sat cross-legged on the bed. She smiled at Phil while her tail wagged up and down.
Phil stood awkwardly by the door. He didn’t feel comfortable with this at all.
“What are you waiting for?” Cέrμləa asked. “Come over and fuck me hard, Daddy!”
Phil blanched. His stomach did a greasy flip.
“No,” he said.
He couldn’t do this, even if she really was centuries old.
For a brief instant he thought he saw that centuries-old wisdom flash in her red eyes, but it was just an instant and then the girl returned. Her red eyes wobbled and filled with moisture.
“Why?” Cέrμləa said. “Aren’t you my master? Don’t you want me?”
“I can’t,” Phil said.
The girl departed again and Phil saw something far far older appear behind her red eyes. A facet of the true Cέrμləa, he realised, and not the girl she was currently pretending to be.
“You feel no attraction to this form,” the girl with the ancient eyes said. “It’s too immature.”
Phil nodded.
The girl returned and smiled brightly. “But that’s easy to fix,” she said, brimming with excitement.
She jumped off the bed and suddenly twirled with the grace of a dancer. She pirouetted faster and faster, becoming a living whirlwind. Her hair shook out and became longer. Her silk dress became a series of veils spinning around a form that shimmered as insubstantially as mist. The air crackled with energy.
Cέrμləa slowed down, came to a stop.
“Is this better?” she asked.
The woman before Phil couldn’t have been a day younger than ninety. She had long white hair that flowed down past her waist. Her face was a mass of leathery old wrinkles. Her back was stooped. Most of her teeth were missing and the ones remaining were cracked and yellowed.
Phil backed away in shock.
“I went too far didn’t I?” Cέrμləa asked.
Phil nodded numbly, still trying to take in the strange transformation he’d just witnessed.
Cέrμləa became a crackling blue whirlwind again.
“Ah, this is right,” she said.
It didn’t sound right. The voice was deeper, masculine even. She sounded suspiciously like a he.
She also looked suspiciously like a he.
The light blue silk dress had become a Prussian blue uniform with gold buttons down a flat chest. Her dark blue hair was cropped short to her scalp. An immaculate moustache adorned her upper lip.
“Um,” Phil started.
He didn’t get a chance to finish before Cέrμləa swept him up in his/her arms and whirled him around the rim of the pool in an energetic waltz. If Phil still had any doubts remaining as to his role in this dance, they were answered by Cέrμləa twirling him out like a top and then bending him back over his/her knee like the blushing heroine of a fifties romance.
“Romance burns like fire in my veins,” Cέrμləa said. He/She pursed their lips and bent down to administer a passionate kiss.
Phil waved his arms wildly, but was unable to prevent Cέrμləa’s lips from meeting his.
The kiss was a little…bristly.
Mercifully, it was also short.
Cέrμləa sensed his reluctance and looked down, confusion in his/her red eyes. He/She dropped him and thoughtfully rubbed his/her chin.
“Not right,” he/she said.
“Wrong sex,” Phil gasped.
“Wrong sex?”
“Wrong sex,” Phil confirmed.
Cέrμləa span back into another vivid blue whirlwind. Phil wondered what his chances were of crawling to the door and running away down the hallway before she finished. He got up and started crawling on his hands and knees.
“How about this?”
The voice was sweet like honey and dripping with seduction.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Phil looked back.
Phil didn’t want to leave the room anymore.
The girl he saw was beyond stunning. Her figure could only exist in the febrile mind of a superhero comic-strip ar
tist. She was tall, lithe and also sluttily curvaceous. Her electric blue hair formed a mane cascading down her back. She was still a succubus. Her blue horns curled through her hair like an elaborate crown. Her eyes were still blood-red rubies. They glittered as she saw the effect her new body had on Phil.
“Come to me,” she beckoned. “Come to me and taste pleasures reserved only for gods.”
Phil had no control over his body. He was a passenger. He got to his feet and walked towards the goddess standing before him. He was a moth and she was the brightest flame in all existence. Her flames would burn him to ash. He knew this and still he stepped into her outstretched arms.
“Oh yes, this is more like it,” Cέrμləa said, smiling as she watched his cock stiffen to full erection.
She cupped a soft hand beneath his shaft. Phil shivered in pleasure as sparks crackled up and down his length. The energy seeped into his flesh and tickled around inside his balls.
Oh fuck, it was as much as he could do to stop coming there and then.
“Dance with me,” she whispered in his ear.
She balanced on her left leg and lifted her right leg up high, as graceful as a ballerina as she revealed the silken folds of her sex to him. She put her hands on his buttocks and pulled him close. Her wings folded around him, squeezing him tight to her until her soft breasts squashed against his chest. Her leg hooked around his lower back as she pulled him closer still, guiding his throbbing erection into the lush valley between her legs.
“Fly with me on winds of lust,” she murmured.
Phil closed his eyes in bliss as he slipped inside her. Even though it was a regular occurrence now, that first burst of pleasure as his cock slid into the moist sheath of a succubus’s vagina always took him by surprise. His memory could never accurately recapture that bliss of being engulfed by their soft flesh.
“Give yourself to sensuality,” she whispered. Her words resonated directly in his mind.
Energy crackled along his shaft as her walls slowly pulsed around his cock. The energy settled in his balls and tickled him with little sparks and fizzes.
Laughing, she span around him, a whirlwind of caressing, fondling fingers, breasts and lips. Her long hair felt like the finest, silkiest of brushes as it swept over his naked skin. The sensation was overwhelming Phil’s mind and body. He stood at the centre of a raw, untempered hurricane of lust.
Not standing, floating.
Phil was rising up off the floor even as her hips pumped against him with sinuous thrusts. Her moist flesh slipped and slid against his cock, the friction filling his balls with more and more erotic charge until they felt on the verge of bursting.
“Yes, yes,” Cέrμləa exhorted. Her voice seemed to be coming from many different points all around him.
The pressure in his balls became too much. Phil groaned in ecstasy as his buttocks clenched and he ejaculated a great stream of his seed into Cέrμləa’s quicksilver body.
“Oooh yes,” Cέrμləa sighed all around him.
The air shivered, buffeting Phil with waves of pleasure. He continued to rise on the winds of her ecstasy. He span in the cyclone of her passion. A whirlwind of fingers, lips and breasts nibbled, licked, caressed, fondled and rubbed against his helpless body.
“Yes!” Cέrμləa shrieked.
Eyes fluttering from the over stimulation, Phil pumped another orgasm into the maelstrom whirling round him.
His semen whipped her into greater frenzy. Her hips lashed back and forth against him like a striking snake. The friction of her silken flesh sliding around him—softly squeezing him—filled his mind with fireworks explosions of pleasure. Her mouth—no, a thousand mouths—sucked his fingers, sucked his toes, nibbled his ears and licked his nipples. Her hands—no, a thousand hands—caressed his shoulders, massaged his neck, tickled his sides and fondled his balls.
Too…much.
Too much…sensation.
Phil exploded in another orgasm and the violence of the ejaculation ripped through his body like shockwaves.
Too much. His body was coming apart.
He felt the first warning twinges in his spine and joints.
“Submerge yourself in bliss,” Cέrμləa crooned.
She was formless lust enveloping him. He felt her touch all around him. He breathed her in and felt her flow through his body, sending crackling streamers of pleasure hurtling through his nervous system.
“Give yourself to the pleasure,” she whispered, her voice a gentle caress across the lobes of his brain, “mind, body and soul.”
He was in her and she was in him. Phil orgasmed and felt hers at exactly the same time. Reality was coming apart at the seams.
She delved into his mind and laid out his memories like a pack of cards. Impulsive and quixotic, she shuffled and rearranged them with the same ease. A jumble of familiar images flowed before Phil’s eyes. Past, present and future merged in one chaotic kaleidoscope.
“Share your life with me,” Cέrμləa whispered. “I want to feel your pleasures, triumphs and sorrows.”
There aren’t many of those, Phil thought. He was only eighteen and—recent events notwithstanding—his life had not exactly been that interesting.
“Nonsense!” Cέrμləa retorted. “Why do you lie to yourself?”
Not lying, Phil thought.
A memory returned. He was flipping burgers in the back kitchens of some crappy McRestaurant or other. His colleagues, if they could be termed such, shuffled by like dead-eyed zombies.
Cέrμləa flicked the memory away as if it was a bad Polaroid photo.
“Fledgling, we’re trying to have sex here. Now what’s this?”
She shuffled through his memories and plucked one from the last year of his old school.
“Who’s she?” Cέrμləa asked.
In the memory he was sitting in a classroom and looking at a girl. She wasn’t like the other girls. He could see that from her black clothes and dyed black hair. There was a fierce independence about her. She wasn’t afraid to be different.
No one, Phil thought.
The goth girl, Tracey Weis.
She’s just a girl I used to see around school.
I used to have the hots for her.
“You never spoke to her did you?” Cέrμləa said.
I never got around to it.
I was always too scared.
The memory whirled and merged into another. Phil was lying on the crisp grass behind the football pitch. A full moon was above him in the night sky. Tracey was straddling him and sighing as her body moved up—
Wait! That never happened.
“I can make it as though it did, in your mind.” Tracey spoke, but the voice was Cέrμləa’s.
No! It wouldn’t be real.
Tracey/Cέrμləa smiled.
“Reality is not immutable.”
Tracey/Cέrμləa’s pussy clenched tightly around his cock and Phil groaned as he came inside her. The image came apart in a bright starburst of colours. Tiny hairline fractures ran through the panes of his other memories.
Cέrμləa continued to sift through them like a prospector searching for gold.
“Oh yummy,” she purred, “this one looks delicious.”
It was the moment Verdé had taken his virginity.
“Such a gorgeous creature,” Cέrμləa said. “All my sisters are pinnacles of sexual perfection.”
Phil was lost in the memory of Verdé’s soft sighs. He felt again, vividly, the silken pull of her warm vagina.
“She was your first,” Cέrμləa said quietly.
Phil experienced again the monstrous eruption as he pumped the full contents of his balls into Verdé’s hungry pussy. The scene flew apart in a bright coruscation of shards.
Cέrμləa picked through his memories and found more. There was Rosa on top of him in the bath as he lay on a bed of the softest foam. There was Nurse Honey rubbing her soft breasts across his shoulders. There was Verdé in the garden with the moons floating abov
e her in a bright pink sky. There was even Nÿte, enfolding him in velvet darkness.
The memories merged together, the pleasures building up and building up on each other, greater and greater, until they formed a vast peak of ecstasy. Phil was carried up with them, his conscious mind obliterated beneath an onslaught of soft caresses and silken flesh.
