Incubus Inc. 3

by Randi Darren

  Who promptly kicked off her heels and went about the same process Irma had.

  Sam realized that they would do what they needed to do. He needed to use some Essence to get them set up in a shelter of sorts.

  Given the area and what was available, that meant digging a hole into the earth. A literal gopher hole that would hide them away from the rest of the world.

  “Let’s get to work then,” muttered Sam as he began pulling together his Essence. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he was fairly certain how any trade he made would go.

  His race had a tendency to be able to make deals anywhere they went. All it took was sleeping with someone in the opposing party’s group and agreeing to split the Essence generated.

  In this case, it was quite likely that they’d ask for a higher amount of the split to allow them to remain on the territory unhindered. Though they would still likely want to have sex with Sam to generate said Essence.

  Instead, he focused on the task at hand.

  An hour later, Sam felt more than a little spent. He’d done his best to limit how much Essence he used. They really only needed a single room where they could retreat.

  With that in mind, it was a single room, a small adjoining chamber to relieve themselves into a pit at the center of, and a small hardened stone that would serve as a cover plate.

  All this was done to hide from the denizens of Hell as well as the environment. Because while there was no real sunlight, there was a persistent heat that would flood across the plane of Hell.

  One actually could seek relief by burrowing down into the earth. Many Demons did exactly that and lived beneath the surface, only to come above ground at night.

  It was one of the reasons Sam felt quite sure about looking around for whoever might be the territory owner at night.

  “Well, it’s certainly not what I would choose, but it’s infinitely better than being aboveground,” Irma said inside the small hole. The three of them were standing around in the dark.

  Sam wasn’t about to spend any Essence to light the area, and Irma wasn’t either. They could stand in the dark and be perfectly fine.

  Inconvenient, certainly.

  An actual difficulty, not at all.

  Doubly so because Sam could partially see in the dark due to his species.

  “Okay. Uhm, Carissa, would you feed Sam? I’ll feed him tonight,” Irma asked in an odd tone. “I’m… I need a little time to get my head around what we’ll be doing here.

  “I’m just not ready and I know you’ve— ah, you’ve been more adventurous than I.”

  “That’s fine,” Carissa said easily. Sam felt a soft hand touch his forearm. Then it traveled its way up to his shoulder. “What would feed you the best, Sammy?”

  Feeling appreciative of the fact that he hadn’t needed to ask them, Sam took in a slow breath. If he was going for maximum feed, then all it really came down to was twisting Carissa’s orgasm up into the stratosphere.

  “And, before it becomes a possibility,” Irma said before Sam could answer. “If you need to… to sleep with someone here in Hell, it’d be fine. One of the Demons, that is. Survival first. We don’t have the luxury for me to be jealous or even concerned about such a thing.

  “That and you’re an Incubus. It kinda… it comes with the territory. It’d be like marrying a painter and being frustrated that they came home with paint all over their clothes all the time.”

  Getting my paint all over, hm?

  Nodding his head, Sam once again felt an immense sense of gratitude toward Irma. She was a strong-willed, flexible woman. One who always seemed to cut straight to the heart of any situation and provide him with an answer he needed.

  Taking hold of Carissa, Sam knew she was already quite ready for him. As Irma had spoken, the Cyclops had gotten out of her leggings and underwear.

  “Just… I only need you to peak out hard. To hit you orgasm with as much force and speed as we can manage,” Sam explained. “So whatever will make you hit your orgasm as hard as possible is my goal. Any suggestions on what would help that along?”

  “Okay. Uhm, then… we should start with me on my hands and knees,” Carissa murmured. Her hands were slowly traveling back and forth across his chest. He could feel her sexual desire building up rapidly. “Normally you stare into me so hard that it would be hard if I couldn’t see it. It’d feel almost wrong and probably put me in a weird headspace.

  “Facing away from you would… make that easier to deal with. So, hands and knees.

  “Is that all you really need from me? Just to know what would do it for me?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I needed,” Sam said in a low voice. Taking hold of Carissa’s shoulder, he slowly spun her around. Facing her away from himself.

  What he was feeling from Carissa right now was that she wanted to be somewhat dominated. To be pushed into the desired position he wanted and used a bit.

  Apparently, word had gotten back to her about what Aster had done, and Carissa was finally starting to feel somewhat experimental.

  Because ten times out of ten, Carissa only ever wanted to be in the missionary position. That was what did it for her.

  Keeping a firm hold on Carissa’s shoulder, he eased her down to the ground. Her shoulders and head rested directly on the hard-packed dirt.

  As casually as removing a napkin from one’s lap, Sam dismissed his pants and boxers with a flick of his hand. Then he set his knees down just on the inside of Carissa’s.

  With his left hand, he fit the tip of his fully-erect member against the smooth and moist lips of Carissa’s entry.

  Taking hold of her hip, his other hand still pressed to her shoulder, Sam moved forward. Carissa’s insides were a bit dry as his head and member pushed into her.

  Reaching the hilt, he drew back, pulling himself out of her. The dryness he’d felt was now gone. Her tight channel was wet and squeezing at him. At the same time, she moved away from him, causing him to reach the tip quickly.

  Before he could plunge back into her, she was moving her rear towards him. Pushing herself back at him.

  There was a new need that congealed in her thoughts. She wanted him to sink his fingers into her hair and pull back. To stretch her out and blast away at her hips at the same time.

  Not one to disappoint his partner for such a simple need, Sam moved his hand from her shoulder into her hair. Taking a good grip of the hair at her scalp, he pulled gently.

  Slowly, he kept increasing the pressure until Carissa was partially upright, holding herself up on her hands. Her back was arched and Sam continued to glide in and out of her.

  “Ah…fuck,” groaned Carissa in the dark. Her voice was punctuated by his thrusts, making her voice sound partially interrupted. “Fuck me…that’s so…good, nnngh.”

  With a grin, Sam continued to pump his hips against her rear end. Even as she struggled to push back against him, while he pulled at her hips, he did what he could to thrust through her.

  At the same time, he was pulling her orgasm higher and higher. Dangling it at the edge of her senses then withdrawing it.

  With Carissa, he’d found she could be edged nearly endlessly as long as he did it right. She had a sex drive that was more like a wave. Once it started, it couldn’t stop until it finished.

  He could keep her going indefinitely.

  “Please Sam… not this… time?” begged Carissa even as he plowed into her. Her voice came out in bursts. “Let me… go for…now?”

  He could feel that Carissa was more than willing to let him go at her again and again. To even drag her out for quite a while after this.

  But she desperately wanted to hit her peak right now.

  The next time she approached her orgasm, he let her fall into it. Pulling back at her hair and hip, he buried his member deep inside her as her channel flexed and squeezed.

  “Ah! Yeah! Ah, thank…you!” she groaned as he kept at her. The noise of his lap clapping against her rear end sounded almost
more like a drum being thumped rapidly now.

  Sam didn’t let himself finish right now. He wanted to, but he couldn’t afford it at this point.

  He wanted to ride Carissa for a while. He rather enjoyed holding onto her like this, and if he let himself climax he’d at least need a few minutes to pause and recollect himself.

  He wasn’t sure if that was the influence Hell had over him, or if he was just feeling somewhat dominant and possessive of Carissa at the moment.

  For the time being, he wanted to keep going with her.

  With that thought in his mind, Sam went after her aggressively. He had her for hours on end and pushed her through multiple positions, but never letting her lay back down or hit another orgasm.

  Her first orgasm acted more like an appetizer for him as he worked at her as if it were his job. As though his existence was made only for trying to split Carissa in half from the inside out.

  Feasting on the Essence of the never-ending build-up of her orgasm that was yet to come. As if he were slow roasting her over a fire and taking bites out of her as he went.

  He planned to enjoy her to the fullest before he let her peak again. After all, Carissa was unique, just as all his women were.

  Seven - Differences -

  Sam banked around the small village below him for a third time.

  As far as he could tell, it was a small family of Demons in charge of a village of Humans with a contingent of Demon guards.

  Throughout the village, tired and worn-looking mortals moved about whatever their task was. Though, by and large, that appeared to be cultivating some sort of crop.

  All of the fields surrounding the village in every direction contained endless stalks of some sort of ripening vegetable. Though even from this distance, Sam had the distinct impression that whatever it was, wasn’t “good”.

  If he had to guess, it was most likely some horrible thing that originally grew in a negative energy plane. It probably came from a place that was as bad as Hell.

  Given that Hell was uninhabited by anything other than Demons and a few Devils, most of the flora and fauna were not native, so there was no other real possibility. That also meant that they’d spent quite a bit of time bringing in soil from somewhere else.

  The operation must have taken a great deal of effort to construct.

  Except the lax way the guards moved about, the gear they wore, and how they conducted themselves, countered that idea. In fact, when he looked at the manor house at the “top” of the village, it looked rather shabby.

  Run down, even.

  Hell has certainly changed since I lived in it. I’d heard some stories, but this is well beyond that.

  Wouldn’t that also mean that there really are Demon kingdoms? Demon kingdoms similar to the medieval period of the prime material plane?

  How curious.

  It might be fun to go see it. See if my memories line up at all or if it’s all nostalgia in my mind.

  Smirking, Sam curled in one of his wings and began diving toward the settlement. He aimed himself for the outskirts of it so that people would see him arriving at the edge of the village.

  It would give their guards a chance to respond, as well as the leading Demon family.

  Sam hadn’t seen any of them yet, but he got the impression they were simple Demons. Little different from mortals except for being Demons with a longer lifespan.

  Pulling his wings up just before he touched down, Sam turned to face the village. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he folded his arms behind himself and spread his feet.

  Hell was a place that actually was eat or be eaten.

  There was no room for heroes, morals, or do-gooders. This was a physical manifestation of the infinite and unending torture that was the negative aspect of the afterlife.

  Every Demon that lived, fed, and worked in that afterlife originated here. This was the source of all the punishments suffered by those who had done wrong and were sentenced to the negative afterlife.

  Softness did not exist here. It was one of the very reasons Sam had begun to crave either remaining on the material plane or forming his own plane.

  Guards began to pour out of the village, one after the other. They rushed towards Sam at a full sprint with their weapons ready. Each one bearing the arms and armor that was indeed akin to a medieval era.

  Almost immediately, they began screaming at him.

  Unfortunately, Sam didn’t understand a word of it.

  At least, not at first.

  To his ear, it had the ring of familiarity but not quite. There was something in the words and the way they were spoken that made him feel like he should understand them.

  Shaking his head, Sam held up a hand and then cleared his throat.

  He hadn’t spoken the Demonic tongue in longer than he could actually remember. Even when he’d battled Demons, they’d often just spoken in whatever dialect of Humanity had summoned them.

  “You’ll have to forgive me, my Demonic is incredibly rusty,” Sam tried, his hand held up in front of him still. At the same time, he was using as little Essence as he could get away with to try and absorb whatever language they were speaking, while blending it with his own memories.

  To him, it honestly felt like a derivative of his memory of Demonic. Which is what he based the entire spell on.

  Sam felt like he was a citizen of the first Roman Republic who only knew Classical and Vulgar Latin trying to converse with someone from Italy speaking modern Italian.

  A number of the guards stood up considerably straighter at Sam’s words. Their hands gripped their weapons with a great deal more force.

  For whatever reason, the way in which he’d spoken had created a collective change in them. They’d all gone from angry and concerned to anxious and terrified.

  “Could someone please keep speaking?” asked Sam, trying out a smile on them. “The spell doesn’t work unless someone is speaking.”

  Someone in the crowd of helmeted heads said something to that, to which another person responded. A quiet chattering began to fill the silence as the guards began to speak to one another.

  Perfect. Perfect. We’ll just… hope… this works.

  No such thing as a universal translator after all.

  “In the meantime, could someone go get the leader of this… place?” asked Sam. Regardless of anything else, he still needed to get food and water for Carissa and Irma.

  Beyond that, he needed to find a way to get his hands on a large amount of Essence. He was eager to return home.

  Jena knew that he was connected to Inc-Suc and would be actively hunting it. Even now, she was probably going after his people. Every second he spent here was a waste of time.

  Apparently, regardless of him only partially understanding them, the guards understood him. Quite a few of them nodded their heads at his statement. A few replied in the same language that they’d been using.

  “Already done, my lord,” someone said in a halting voice. It was in the same form of Demonic that Sam had spoken in.

  As if the spell he’d formed needed something to latch onto, or that perhaps the same thing had been said in both languages, Sam could suddenly understand quite a bit of what was being said.

  Having found success with his spellwork, Sam fed more Essence into it. He wanted to be able to speak to the current denizens of Hell. Right now, he was more of an outsider than he’d ever been on the material plane itself.

  He hated spending the Essence on something like this, but he didn’t feel like he had a choice.

  Sam nodded his head and ran his tongue over his molars. He decided to try speaking in their own tongue. Maybe it would help his spell decipher it.

  “Lord?” he asked in their tongue.

  Once again there were a number of responses to his question.

  “Forgive me, my lord, we know not your name,” said the same individual who’d spoken earlier.

  Sam felt his spell expand rapidly again. It was taking in their responses it se
emed and was actively working to build him a lexicon.

  Well. This is why I’m a Planar Lord. Essence sorcery contains a great deal of personal ability.

  “My name is irrelevant,” said Sam, still in their own tongue. A young Demon hurried his way toward Sam from the village. He was wearing expensive clothes compared to everyone else around. “Is that your lord?”

  Every guard turned their head to look back at the Demon approaching them.

  “Yes, my lord. That is our lord, Adam Billingham,” said the same guard.

  Adam Billingham? Well. That’s a rather curious name for a Demon.

  In fact, I’d say it’s downright mortal.

  The Demon rushed right up to Sam. As they got closer, Sam realized that the man must indeed be the local lord.

  He wasn’t of the same species of Demon as the guards. He appeared to be descended from a Demon-Knight or an Infernal Imp.

  Sam was betting on the latter given that the male had a build that a Demon-Knight wasn’t likely to get.

  He was of average height and slightly overweight with black hair that was swept back across his head. His eye color ran closer to hazel than what most Cambion had. There was a single dark spot or freckle in one of his eyes that lent itself toward a mixed family heritage.

  Hell is… very different.

  “Greetings, my lord!” said Adam, coming to a stop in front of Sam. He was speaking in what Sam knew as his own tongue though it had a curious British accent to it. It was very likely that his own manner of speech would indeed be “Classical Latin”. His early mental metaphor might be spot on. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you from… from the tower?”

  “No,” Sam said, then lifted a hand and pointed toward the manor home. “Would it be alright if we spoke in your home? There are quite a few ears here. Mortal and otherwise.”

  As if realizing the situation, Adam glanced behind himself. There was a crowd of Humans gathering behind the Demon guards. They were clearly trying to get a peek at what was going on.

  “Yes! Ah, yes, my lord. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—I—yes, yes,” Adam said, then bowed his head to Sam. Then he began scurrying back to his home.