Truly, I have learned more from my first few days living within Ektinnair’s hive than is contained in all the combined lore of every wizard demonologist who ever presumed to write on the topic.
Already I have come to a much more intimate understanding of why they always warned so strenuously against making any deal with a succubus that comes at a risk of abduction to the abyssal demesnes. However, where they quail in cowardice, I prevail because I am the Onesha, and I am better than any wizard.
You, dear reader, should take heed of such warnings, unless you—like me—happen to be possessed of especial wiles, rare constitution, and none of a wizard’s squeamishness over acts of flesh. This is the gift I offer to you: detailed and accurate knowledge of demon society that you need not earn for yourself; all you require is the courage to read on without recoiling from raw, unvarnished reality.
One seed of truth within their warnings is this: demons have remarkably different social norms than any human society on record, particularly (and unsurprisingly, w.r.t. succubi) around fornication, paraphilias, and sexual taboos. Pursuit of physical gratification of this kind is as natural to them as eating or breathing or even saying “good morning.”
Keeping this in mind, it becomes plain that the history of these warnings comes from a place of humancentrism—if not outright xenophobia. It is purely a product of carrying one’s own cultural assumptions to a foreign land, forgetting that you are but a guest, and becoming unjustifiably outraged that the people you meet adhere to their own rituals of politeness rather than those to which you are accustomed.
If instead one is willing to keep an open mind, it is plain to see that Ektinnair has been nothing but an impeccable host to me by the standards of her own culture. Think about it, would you ask for “consent” before offering your guest a place to lay their head? Before checking on them at night to offer an extra blanket to ward away the cold? Before waking them up to serve a hot, home-cooked breakfast? Before introducing them to your family?
Of course not. A good host offers a guest whatever they need. A better host anticipates their guest’s needs and wants without needing to ask. The best hosts contrive to do all that and more, without offering so much as the chance for a guest to turn down the “burden” of such hospitality. I am pleased to say that my new succubus friend has proven herself to be in a league of her own in this regard.
Now, as I previously alluded, sexual congress occupies much the same role for succubi as meeting any number of other physical needs for a human. With this in mind, how could I object when Ektinnair wakes me first thing in the morning (and in the middle of the night, on occasion, when sleep is elusive [and when we had gone to sleep in such a state in the first place]) with fingers in my mouth and a coital union of our loins?
The kind succubus is consistent about using some part of her anatomy (or an assistive tool) to occupy my mouth during and after these friendly encounters. Perhaps some aspect of her nature allows her insight into my predilection for oral stimulation. Regardless, I find myself unable to complain.
You see now how ill-prepared you are? Would you, reader, have a mind open enough to embrace such generosity in the spirit it is given? Would you, as I do, put as much effort into reciprocating such heartwarming gestures in understanding that these friendly sessions of mutual masturbation are no more wicked than, well, serving your own guests a pot of tea? Or if, when her sisters stop by for a visit—as they do, every now and then—we were to all share a bit of tea and gossip together, would you be that much less scandalized than the truth of how we passed the time?
Most would have a conniption, I fear. Perhaps they would even accuse her of “rape.” Perhaps some of you would even apply that label to what she has done with me, simply because you do not understand.
Let me be perfectly clear, I trust Ektinnair absolutely. Ours is not a bond that began with binding circles—magical chains and cages—and therefore she has no reason for antagonism or trickery. While you may be inclined to interpret her actions in light of your fear of demons, I am unburdened by such bias. I am free to infer demonic motivations from a place of sympathy—yes, sympathy, for demons are in many ways better than humans, and they do not need to behave like humans to be worthy of admiration—and that is why I know that harm toward me is the furthest thing from her mind. She simply does not have human hangups about “consent,” and that is all.
It is a cultural matter one must learn to appreciate, and I, the Onesha, have credentials to spare on the subject of fornication. (For reference, see my last publication, On the Efficacy of Inducing Novel Paraphilias Via a Two-Pronged Approach of Contextual Exposure and Thaumaturgical Intervention. [If you are a wizard, I am sure your fellows will look the other way just this once while you visit the “Extra Forbidden” section of the library.]) I tell you this not to boast, but to explain how I am uniquely qualified to handle any degree of depravity a succubus may choose to visit upon me. I have little reason to fear her hunger.
Those who cling to the mindset of home—or disparage the pleasures of sexual intercourse—could never forged such a strong connection with my lovely and charming friend Ektinnair, and so would remain ignorant of many things she has taught me.
For example, did you know that the ejaculate of a succubus can be a nutritionally complete meal substitute for a human? I can attest to this first-hand, having subsisted on little else since I arrived here. The fact that the same fornication that sustains her own life may serve as the means to sustain my own is a satisfying symmetry, downright elegant and (dare I say?) a thing of beauty—just not the sort of beauty Beldwin or his ilk could ever have understood.
Naturally, this raises obvious questions about the rest of the *cubi clade (see Chapter [TBD]), and when I broached the topic to her, she expressed nothing but delight at the prospect of introducing me to her friends for further study. (To Calliope: additional tasting notes to come. I intend to perform a comparative analysis.)
I look forward to this, having been kept inside Ektinnair’s home for the entire duration of my stay thus far. Be warned yourself: there is apparently some risk for an unprotected human exposed to the abyssal outdoors (perhaps not dissimilar to “sun burn” in our world), and the risk is mitigated by acclimatizing oneself slowly. My host, anxious about my health, refused to hear my arguments that I have prepared myself well for this trip, and in the interest of allaying her worry I have not forced the issue.
Through my diligent efforts at cross-cultural exchange, I have won quite mutual trust with Ektinnair. She has even bestowed upon me the title “princess,” a gesture I take as a mark of great respect. However, do not be misled! Grand as the title is, I understand Ektinnair has no legal authority to proclaim me demonic royalty in truth. It is most likely a metaphorical title reflecting my position as honored emissary of our own world.
To Calliope: I apologize that this morning’s entry contains no erotic content for you to peruse, as Ektinnair and I have mostly been conversing about the succubus way of life when we are not sleeping or taking care of the necessary mutual masturbation to keep both of us fed.
However, you will be encouraged to hear her assurances that we will find time to engage in some “properly debauched” activities when she introduces me to her circle of close friends, perhaps after I press them for information about the nutritional (and potentially pharmaceutical) applications of their own fluids? We shall see. I cannot imagine what counts as “debauched” to her sensibilities, but I am quite sure I am in good hands with her.
My Most Open-Minded Lady,
Oh, how I wish you could experience these updates from my point-of-view! This is breathtakingly close to what I want to read from you, and yet you remain content to elide from the record a great many of the specific joys of your experience.
Do you truly feel as though your “mutual masturbation” with a creature of such wondrous proportions would be of so little interest? Even as you find yourself in the company of her sisters as well? Can it truly have become such commonplace a routine that you have already begun to think of it as mundane? How I shiver in contemplation of the notion!
With a heavy heart, I realize I must once again fill in the details myself.
Never fear, however, that it is beyond me to do so. Your readers will have the most complete experience possible, even if I must interpolate the missing pieces with somewhat more imagination than I know either of us prefer. To this end, you may wish to know I am shaping a one-to-one scale model of your demon girl’s most alluring member based on your delicious illustration. I intend to conduct my own exhaustive study of it in order to inspire the necessary editorial additions to your research. Such a shame that I must do so alone, rather than in the company of an expert on the topic.
On a personal note, I am pleased to understand that Ektinnair has discovered how to deal with you most effectively. She is certainly a faster learner than I was. I would like to remind you to keep me updated with all the sordid details of her hospitality, no matter how irrelevant to your research they seem or how terribly mundane they have become to you. As a reminder, the more thorough your descriptions of your experience, the better a reader can appreciate the nuances of your first-hand account.
With grace and envy,
Calliope
To Calliope: I really feel like you are making far too much fuss over simple day-to-day pleasures. When one travels abroad and happens to stay with one of the greatest chefs in the world, how relevant is it to enumerate every small snack that chef may prepare for herself and family? Especially given our plans to indulge ourselves more fully!
In any case, while the sexual habits of lust demons are endlessly fascinating, I dare not limit the scope of this book to merely that one slice of demonology. There is much, much more to describe! From my very first step outside, I have been brought nearly to tears by the sights and sounds of a place that calls to my heart more than any other that I’ve called home.
I cannot evenIt is a struggle to compose adequate words.I think I'm in love.
Once again, the amount of information I must convey staggers the mind. Any sociologist could gleefully spend her whole life exploring and cataloging demonic fashion, music, art, food, drink, architecture, politics, etc. I confess that walking the streets of this city has inspired within me an even greater love of their culture than I knew was possible.
The very sky is a work of art—a strange attractor of alien neons and infinitely rich hues of black beyond human experience, constantly in motion, never the same from one moment to the next. I pity my readers for your inability to witness this beauty yourselves, but as always I shall endeavor to communicate as much as language allows.
Though the light is dim—relative to that of our sun—it paints the city in radiant ever-shifting color. Much of demon architecture is built of a substance like pale bone. It might be a frightful sight to those prone to cowardice, but what other material would so readily catch the sky’s chaotic and radiant beauty, filling the city with almost candy-like reflected hues?
To Calliope: More than ever I lament that I did not drag you with me. Perhaps your skill with paint could capture this vision better than words alone, however deftly I weave them. Here I descend from cold observation into poetry, and still it strikes me as inadequate!
The city itself is called Khavil-Irsei, and at its center lies the Great Hive which residents affectionately call the Quivering Maw. Indeed, more than anything else the hive resembles a titanic mouth open wide as though to swallow a leviathan or cry out a welcome to its guests. The effect is only strengthened by the ring of curved, tooth-like projections around the rim.
Ektinnair informs me that to enter the Great Hive proper involves descending into that very mouth. It is with great remorse I must report that on this first visit outside her home we had other plans to attend to, as much as I longed to dive right into the heart (or womb?) of this demonic society.
Khavil-Irsei resides within the demesne of the Greater Demon Ur-Lillialai the Sweetly Poisoned Chalice. An important note: a demon’s public name is not its True Name, but even so any name chosen by a demon tells one something essential about that demon. Still, it takes a full understanding of the cultural context—more than I can convey within any single text—to parse what this name communicates of the entity in question.
(I am sure you are tempted to draw negative conclusions about the “poisoned chalice” in the epithet. Discipline yourself against reflexive judgments of that kind, which come from human biases. The concept of poison has richly textured connotations among demons, and there is a poetry to the name you cannot appreciate. If anything, the name conveys less danger than it does an appreciation of beauty [though yes, the Greater Demon in question probably does kill people with poison (but I suspect with artisanal methods designed to evoke a certain poignant nostalgia)].)
Here we meet again with the issue of having too much context to convey in order to prevent you, the reader, misleading yourself in your ignorance. I say this not to scold, for even I have been humbled to realize how much I have to learn.
As a fresh example, consider how Ektinnair and I prepared ourselves for the walk from her home to the local grotto (a refined social space of sorts). I dressed in a manner to which I am accustomed, wearing a simple cowl-neck tunic, loose trousers, hat, and boots. I also carried a bag containing, among other things, the book in which I record all my observations.
Let me express gratitude toward my fine companion for her polite courtesy in refraining from criticizing my faux pas, even as she dressed herself in a manner that was much more appropriate for the local custom and climate.
You must forgive me for yet again dipping into subjective, even poetic description, but it is the best means by which I can articulate enough of demon fashion to convey how her style of dress would be read by a peer. Ektinnair wore delicate eigenblack slippers wrapped snug as a shadow over her feet, open so as to prevent her claws from damaging them.
Her skirt of luscious vantajet drank the light from the world, falling to a downright demure and modest length (by demon standards, meaning it did conceal her scrotum), leaving her long, muscled legs bare and unconfined. The hem rode low on her hips in order keep her spiny tail free to lazily swish with each step—simply a practical matter given her anatomy.
Now, unlike me, she wisely forewent undergarments above or below, making good use of her quite prominent breasts by tucking her penis between them for stability and buttoning her own lightweight, sleeveless blouse over the top to tidily secure the arrangement. The blouse itself was a creamy infranoir that hugged her figure and tastefully emphasized the bulging ridge of her phallus as it rose from the hem of her skirt up to her chest.
To Calliope: remind me to write an appendix entry to try describing the distinctions between the blacks here. I’m inventing a lot of new names because I fear the subtleties will be lost if I don’t at least try to explain them in full.
To human standards her manner of dress must appear salacious, perhaps deliberately chosen to arouse, but I must emphasize that—with the exception of her horn jewelry—this is purely practical, functional casualwear, suited for a jaunt about town.
Unfortunately I did not appreciate until later how practical her outfit was in every respect, both for her sake and for mine. The walk was longer than I had anticipated, for I was still learning the units by which demons judged distance, and what I thought would be a short walk down a few city streets turned out to be a rather long hike for someone in possession of a scholar’s physique. I found myself sweating terribly, and I envied how refreshing the breeze must feel under my fair associate’s skirt.
The heat took its toll on me. My mouth grew parched, my legs weak, and I needed a rest. Fortunately, Ektinnair’s resourcefulness and empathy came to my rescue. She found and pulled me into a shaded nook with a bench and sat next to me while I recovered.
Despite my weakened state and my thoroughly platonic affection for her, my eyes were drawn to the plunging neckline of her blouse, where I could not fail to notice the head and glans of her phallus had grown engorged, bursting from within her cleavage to nearly reach her mouth.
It seems that each and every step she took on the way here had the effect of making the impressive breast tissue with which she is endowed lurch and settle, the rhythmic nature of the movement combining with the lubrication of her sweat such that it had been stimulating her in a pseudo-sexual manner. The effect was no doubt compounded by the absence of supportive undergarments that might have held her breasts in place.
Far from being a problem, however, my succubus guide had counted on the effect, having the foresight to expect my predicament. A substantial trickle of (the demonic analogue to) Cowper’s fluid flowed down the head, following the crease of her cleavage, to soak the front of her blouse in a way I had initially mistaken for profuse sweating.
As it turned out, the plunging neck of her blouse was intended for my benefit all along, guaranteeing that when she was so stimulated, I would have access to this very stream of fluid with which to quench my thirst. By now I had become accustomed to similar rituals and meals with her, and so partook with pleasure and gratitude. (To Calliope: help me decide whether to put the tasting notes I sent you earlier into a footnote here or an appendix entry to reference. I also want to see if I can identify the electrolytic balance and other details before we publish.)
I drank perhaps too greedily, and I am ashamed to admit that my thirst inspired a certain degree of undignified enthusiasm for what was clearly intended to be nothing more than a friendly offer of something with which to hydrate. Of all people, I should be most aware of how easily a succubus might become aroused to a state of sexual need.
Never let it be said that I cannot reciprocate a kind gesture, however, and when I err, I strive to make amends. I volunteered myself once again as a masturbation aid to help Ektinnair achieve her release, and I am grateful that she accepted.
Again, however, my own foolishness impeded the proceedings. Had I dressed in the manner of the locals, she could have accessed what she needed of me with alacrity, but I had not, and so my poor friend could not remove my boots and trousers with the haste she required. She was forced to tear a hole with her claws, and the ferocity with which she entered me communicated that for her it was a very close call indeed.
Once again, I have to commend her on the wisdom to keep me at home these past few days, despite my protestations at the time. Without the amount of practice I’ve had accommodating her needs, I doubt I could have handled the full length of her at all—much less all at once—without preparation.
Now, reader, if you reference the diagram of the phallus in question, (To Calliope: Ektinnair wants to know if we can publish it as a special page that can fold out to accommodate a full 1:1 representation.) you may wonder how I avoided experiencing some sort of internal rupture. To that question I must once again refer you to my aforementioned rare constitution. Yes, you may have magical means available to you in order to modify own durability, but that is a complex topic beyond the scope of this book.
Our extended break allowed Ektinnair to fully relieve herself, and in doing so helped me rest my legs by keeping me off them entirely—once again demonstrating a perpetual mindfulness of my needs in a way that leaves me in awe. That my own modesty was in tatters for the remainder of the walk served as a sobering reminder of the importance of following my guide’s lead.
To Calliope: While we were resting, Ektinnair watched me compose the latter half of this message. I had been ready to gloss over the events of our little break as nothing more than a momentary diversion that left me a touch embarrassed with my dreadful faux pas (I hereby commit to wearing more practical outfits that give my dear companion easier access to my nether regions), but she suggested you might find the details pertinent. Recalling your last message to me, I agreed to include them, despite feeling as though they would not be as interesting to you as the “proper debauchery” her friends are meant to have with us today. I expect to include an account of that in my next update to you.
My Darling Lady,
This last message of yours was a real treat. Please thank Ektinnair for doing me the great service of reminding you of your duty to report everything with the utmost thoroughness. I have prepared my study aid, and I look forward to reading every single detail of this proposed debauchery.
With starry-eyed enthusiasm,
Calliope
P.S. I still intend to rewrite this part of your account, but you have finally supplied enough of the most salient points that I will be far more confident in the accuracy of my work.
Hey Callie!
I was wondering how Princess was writing home. I assumed it was some kind of portal she threw letters into. Didn’t realize her cute oversized notebook was magic! So you can read everything she writes in this thing? Does it work when I do it?
E
Succubus Ektinnair, I presume,
Indeed. The communication is not instant, or we would have shorter, more back-and-forth exchanges. If two of us were to write at the same time, we might accidentally write atop one another’s words. Disastrous! For reference, I saw your message appear before my eyes and composed this response immediately. You may reference the gap between your message and mine as the round-trip delay time. Normally we synchronize ourselves, limiting me to three short windows of time per day to compose my responses, with the rest open to her.
May I tell you directly that I appreciate your efforts to keep my lady’s head focused on what matters most? I have no words for the relief I feel that you might be assisting her in this matter. Have you read everything preceding this? Go ahead, I invite you to do so. Someone else must understand my plight, and I have a suspicion your own sensibilities may unite us in a shared cause.
With gratitude and keen interest,
Calliope
Oh my great sinful fuck, Callie. You weren’t kidding. You poor bitch! How is Princess so good at fucking and so bad at talking about fucking? This shit is rancid.
Kinda want to just rip out all the pages that don’t even try to have fucking in them. Like, wow, so useless! I won’t, though. Princess would give me the saddest eyes, I just know it. It always makes her so happy to write down all her stupid little notes. It’s kinda cute, if you don’t actually have to read them.
Wait hold on, more importantly: you made a life-size dildo shaped like my cock? Nobody’s ever done that before! You’re as much of a freak as Princess is, aren’t you? Hey, if I jerk it onto the page, would that cum through (heh) as well?
E
My Dear Ektinnair,
You should try it. I’d be eager to see.
Callie
Callie-girl, you’ve got the right bitch for the job. If my cumstain can’t penetrate from this book to yours, no one’s can. You’ll want to give me a little time is all, yeah? Princess is getting spit-roasted by my favorite girls now, and I’m just taking a break and idly stroking it while enjoying the show.
Don’t worry about the delay, either. She’s gonna be very very occupied. That girl didn’t break when I fucked her nonstop every time I wanted for days, so we’re gonna find out just how much she can take before her brain or her body – or both! – snaps.
E
O Wicked Ektinnair,
You intend to break my lady? Come now, you know she and I admire you deeply, and surely ruining her is a waste. I, at the very least, must throw myself upon you and beg mercy for the poor thing. Please envision me trembling, dewy eyed, rosy lips all a-quiver, bosom heaving as I suppress a whimper of fear.
With terrible worry,
Callie
Callieeeeeee
C’mon, doll. I’m a fuck demon. My brothers and sisters are fuck demons. My friends are… well, they’re demons who fuck, which is pretty cool too. You can’t just come down here and be a weird, depraved freak and, like, NOT get fucked to pieces by the Demon Fuck Brigade, you know? It’s like… the hubris and the fall sort of thing. Perverts getting fucked to death by bigger, more powerful perverts is the law of the abyss.
As a way to go, though… I mean, there’s worse ways to die, right? If you’re ever feeling particularly prideful, I could make your own fall really pleasant.
E
Terrifying and Mesmerizing Ektinnair,
As tempting as your offer is – and believe me, I have taken time with my replica of you to consider the topic in depth – I would never abandon my lady’s service while she still lives.
However, if you intend to break her simply by engaging in carnal acts until she gives way, rather than by destroying her in some more brutish sense, then I hereby rescind my begging. I have faith in my lady’s ability to persevere. If you still wish for me to throw myself upon your “mercy,” well, you shall have to earn the privilege.
Callie
Callie baby, you two are more fun than I’ve had in ages, you know that? I love a woman full of arrogance and pride, I really do.
You’ve got my copy-cock with you now? You want me to tell you all about what we’re doing to your pretty little Princess? Every grimy little detail? You want me to tell you the exact moment her eyes turn blank, she goes limp, and then we decide to just keep fucking her to pieces anyway? Say the word, babe, and I’ll do it. I’ll even mark the moment by shooting a load right on the page, just for your pleasure.
You just have to let me know if you get off on reading my words, yeah? It’s a succubus thing, I like knowing.
E
Tantalizing and Ravishing Ektinnair,
Please, please, please tell me everything. My hand has not released its grip on my replica of you here, nor have my thighs, even as I write each of these messages to you. I ache to know every last detail of my lady’s plight, especially those of the sort she always fails to communicate.
I know my lady. I know she will survive, and I know she will fall in love with you even deeper for ravaging her in this way, though she herself may not know it. Please, I must know everything about how you win her heart tonight.
Callie
Alright, you wanna know about freaky demon sex? I’ll hook you up with the facts.
So earlier I grabbed my friend Slalice – that’s Slime Alice, she’s a slime demon, or a Slemon, if you will, and she’s a lot of fun if you’re a freak – and she’s kind of a small thing compared to me, so I can just kind of wear her like a condom while I fuck her into someone’s holes. Anyway I came inside her, and then she came inside Princess, and now a mixture of my cum and Slalice’s body are in Princess’s veins and fucking her in ways I don’t think she even understands.
Now we’ve got Al’sam knotting her mouth, which seems like kind of a waste to me because I know Princess can deepthroat way more than Al’s got going on, but how can I tell them that when they’re both going at it like a couple of starving oncubi in heat? Yeah, she’s going wild there. Good chance she wears herself out from sheer enthusiasm.
Wow. Never seen her drool like that, either. Girl really likes sucking werewolf cock, huh? Al’s got both wrists in one big paw, hauling her upright to keep rutting into her mouth hard and fast, one claw digging into her shoulder real nasty to keep her from slipping out.
I just told Al to loosen up a bit. Don’t want to ruin that shoulder too bad. That’s not the fun way for this to end.
It’s funny, Princess says she’s not into guys, but I’m doubtful she even knows the difference between a male and female werewolf. Al’s gender is “whatever” anyway, so we just said xe’s a chick today, and I guess that’s all it really takes to get Princess all raring to go. What’d she say before? That taxonomy is kinda bullshit? Probably falls into that category anyway.
The bad bitch grabbing at her ass now is Klix. She’s a bug with real nice curves, just not human curves, if you know what I’m saying. Now she doesn’t have a dick or anything, but she packs a mean strap, and she knows how to use it. Also an ovipositor, but it’s not that season for her, so Princess will have to wait for a turn on that thing. Anyway, yeah, Princess is really working her hips, grinding that nice ass of hers against some hot chitin, and she’s back to getting railed on both sides again. Good for her!
You know I gotta say it’s not every day you meet a woman who will ask a succubus (me) to drag her into the abyss, and even when I don’t let her out and instead just fuck her constantly for days on end, she just comes back asking for more. I kinda thought she was just another idiot out for demonic power, but Princess is the real deal, isn’t she? We’re taking shifts working her over, and she’s still just having the time of her damn life.
There’s seriously something wrong with this girl, and I mean that in the most impressed way possible. Like, I’ve been pretty much just feeding her piss and jizz and pre this whole time, and you understand that’s freak shit, right? You don’t both come from, I dunno, some isolated village populated entirely by your world’s sexiest depraved weirdos, do you? You have to tell me if you do, so I can start a collection.
Oh hold on, Mel-mel’s back too now. That’s my especially cute incubus sister. She’s just whipping it out and hosing Princess down. Glad Al’s still got her mouth plugged so she can’t start asking weird questions about vitamins again. I almost regret giving her that excuse that one time. Ha ha ha ha!
Ah, fuck. Y’know, I thought Princess was just stupid for believing all the horseshit that comes out of my mouth, but between you saying that you think she loves me, and the shit she wrote about trusting me in this book, it’s like… I read it, but I don’t think it really sank in, y’know. Like, she actually just straight-up trusts me, huh? After all I’ve been doing to her?
Now I kinda feel bad. I think maybe I’m rooting for her too, even. I mean, if she endures the Demon Fuck Squad Hubris Gang Bang, she’s kinda earned it. Maybe I’ll even take her to some of those places she wanted to check out.
Anyway, here’s the part where it gets interesting, right, because Slalice is oozing out of Princess’s pores right now and absorbing all the extra moisture Mel-mel sprayed her with. She’s got this trick where she circulates that extra fluid in fun little currents through her body which is inside your body, yeah? All in your blood and organs and stuff, y’know? And the force of those currents makes it feel like you’re getting fucked by tentacles deep inside your guts, which you kind of are, but without going in the hard and bloody way that just kills you before you even get to enjoy the feeling.
It’s the kind of thing you either love or hate, to be honest. The most important thing is that it feels REALLY fucked up, but if you’re the right kind of pervert, there’s nothing else like it. Let’s be real, though, Princess has turned out to be like a hundred different kinds of pervert already, so she’s probably into it.
I think the others are getting pretty close now. Al’s all huffing and puffing like it, anyway, and Klix is looking like she doesn’t have much left in her, and I’ve gotta be real with you, I’ve been taking a break ‘cause I wore myself out earlier double-teaming her with Mel. Think I’m gonna go grab Princess’s tits and squeeze ‘em real hard to see if I can help push her over the edge right when she’s forced to swallow or drown in all that werewolf cum. And you know what? If this doesn’t finish her, I’m throwing in the towel. This bitch is superhuman.
Either way, I’m gonna sign this letter with some fat ropes, Callie. Enjoy!
To Callie: I find my hand trembling to a degree that makes writing at length an unappealing proposal at the moment. However, I see that Ektinnair has taken it upon herself to assist with record keeping while I was indisposed. If I find myself with an excess of time on my hands, I may go back and review her work, but for now I am content to leave it to you to determine the worth of her note-taking skills. I fear that the thoroughness you so value may not be her strong suit as it is for me.
I have much to catalogue myself, though I must keep it terse—the flavor and texture of sapient slime is unlike anything else I have experienced, and I must wrack my brain for accurate tasting notes while it is still fresh on the palate, not to mention the other novel fluids I’ve imbibed today. Please be sure to compile the notes following this message with the others for inclusion in the appendix.
In any event, I will be resting and unresponsive to follow-up inquiries from you until the morrow. Perhaps even later than usual, if Ektinnair permits me to sleep in.
My Most Enviable Lady,
Your words did not prepare me for how lovely a creature dear Ektinnair is. I should be delighted if she were to continue assisting the two of us when you are “indisposed” in the future. Or on other occasions – any other occasion – if the mood should ever strike her to write, I would beg her to do so.
Please do pass along this message as well: tell her I enjoyed her words very much while making use of my personal study aid. In fact, I reread them and appreciated them again later last night while admiring the beauty of her distinct signature, and I expect to do so again this very morning.
Perhaps one day soon we can review – or even recreate? – yesterday’s events together, in person.
With a hopeful heart,
Calliope