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Dream and Vivid: The Witch's Wrong Familiar

Vivid Fizz

Vivid Fizz

Supernova
Joined
Oct 17, 2009
Everything was set out. Candles of various sizes were set in a circle around the room. They were the only light and cast everything in a warm, soft glow. The scent of incense filled the air, myrrh as it was most relaxing to the young woman. A large book was set before her, its old pages open to a certain incantation.

In the middle of the candlelit room was Vivian Devan. The skirt of her nightgown was sprawled out beneath her and her eyes strained to read the writing. The handwriting there was poor having been scrawled in a hurry. In the dull lighting it was nearly impossible to make it out. The beautiful blonde cursed beneath her breath. How was she ever to get a familiar this way? A frown pressed on her lips but she continued on. The truth of the matter was that she was desperately lonely. Her parents had restricted her to the house, afraid of what the outside world would think of their daughter, and she had no friends.

She began to chant. It was a language that she wasn’t sure of. Her great grandmother had written the spell and she did it in a tongue that was very phlegm-ish, with many words having to be thrown back into her throat. The girl struggled with the ritual but thought nothing of it. Her eyes were too focused on the page to realize what was happening around her.

A stiff wind had blown out half of the candles, making the room much darker than before. A chill had filled the room, causing goosebumps to rise on her pale skin and her nipples rose against the flimsy material. The smell of brimestone filled the air. There was flutter of a page and she continued. Little did she know that she did not summon a kindly familiar. Instead she opened a pathway to the Ethereal, allowing any sort of being to come through…
 



            • A stiff, frigid air rushed into the demon's chamber. It was there that he had slumbered for quite some years after being severely weakened by the husband of one of his previous slaves. He was enraged learning that an incubus lied ensconced within a veil of shadows night after night, only to emerge from dormancy and brutally rape his frail wife. The demon, feigning kindness, promised the man that in return for sexual favors, he could cure the woman of her fatal disease. The woman's spouse was desperate and, with hesitation, agreed to the demon's pact. Much to his chagrin the demon had no intention to cure his wife. Night after night he desecrated her dying corpse, sending her to her grave with no less then a blissful grin on her dead lips.

              The air stung at his rune-riddled flesh with an unending assault. His hands - the size of bowling balls - scraped desperately at the chains that bound him. With a portal ripped open before his very eyes, the essence binding him to this chamber waned and leaked out from into the world known as earth. He summoned forth what strength he could, and with a mighty bellow, snapped his bounds as if they were mere twigs. With no chains to shield him from the world which he once plagued, the great incubus was free, free to return to those past-times in which he so fully enjoyed.

              The air beyond the portal was much cleaner and much more pleasurable to breath. It wreaked of melting candle wax, charred papers and rosemary, not that of brimstone and sulfur. He drew in a long, over-due breath. With the inhalation heaved his chest - which, too, bore several tribal runes - along with it, the ruby-red pendant draped about his strong neck. The first sights his tart, chocolate brown eyes drew in were that of flickering wicks and a dying light forged by dollops of tiny fires. The demon took his monstrous hand and held it clear in his view - he had not bore claws nor flesh of a coal hue. His skin reminded him of Egyptian sands, where he once had made love with Cleopatra herself. And then ... it took him. The undeniable, unforgettable scent of a woman.

              Much like a starving lion would react to a slab of venison laid before it, the demon swiveled, snapped its head in the direction of the adolescent, and approached on heavy footfalls. He stood two meters tall in his nudity, with a head of shaggy, wily black hair and two rather horrific goat horns curled tightly aside each ear. As if the woman presented to him were weightless, he curled his gargantuan fingers around her mandible and hoisted her three and a half feet from the ground. Her size was no match to his strength. As he raised his arm, his tightly wound muscles flexed, pulsating with a need for usage. He tilted his head and peered blankly at her. He said nothing, merely watched.

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Vivian did not stop chanting until she heard the footfalls. It was a rather large being that had been sent to her. Something that carried considerable weight. Excitement filled her. Perhaps she was lucky enough to bring a unicorn or something equally as magnificent to her side! Many magical creatures enjoyed the company of a pure maiden after all. So she sat, almost too terrified to turn her head upwards to see the being gifted to her by the gods.

Though she would not have to make such a move. The thing, with its large hands, picked her roughly up by the jaw. Her eyes shot open and she took in the beast that had been summon. It was a man! A naked man. A huge, naked man! The young girl nearly fainted. Something had gone terribly wrong!

The strain his hand put on her mandible was enough to keep her from speaking. At least from speaking anything that was discernable. Some very interesting sputtering noises came from her as she kicked her feet in an attempt to make contact. The light from the candles was just enough to light her silhouette, her curves outlined in shadow as the material of her gown glowed faintly.

On her face was etched fear. Her cheeks were flushed, ruby lips puckered from the way he held her, and tears were shining in her bright violet eyes. Thick and soft curls draped over his hand. The girl looked very much like a doll with a terrified look painted on it’s face.

Desperate to be free both of her hands came up to claw and pry the one that had ahold of her face. She needed her mouth to send this THING back where it came from. She cursed grand mamma’s spell. Obviously it had faults! Why else would she have gotten this instead of a familiar?! Legs kicked and jerked more frantically.
 


            • The demon, nameless, was a winsome depiction of a man. Being exposed to the air of the human world, he was given a much more aesthetically pleasing appearance, one he had grown accustomed to over the years. However, this body was not like that he hosted years ago. It, unlike the other, was pulsating with his raw demonic strength; imbued with the dark magic only his true human form possessed. Could this little human child have done this? Could she have given him this powerful shell?

              He grunted, like an animal, and peered head-on into the teen's eyes. "You're a child," he snorted. His voice was both deep and velveteen, as it had seen many years of tireless groans, moans and howls. "What merit do I receive from a child ...?" He unfurled his calloused fingers, allowing the girl's body to fall heavy to the ground, despite her struggling. As an incubus, he extended his life from sexual gratification. He would siphon the soul of his consorts to fuel his own.

              "You would not sate me. You're tiny ... I'd crush you."

              Tiny. Tiny didn't always mean fragile. Tiny just meant "easy to overcome". His tempest eyes stirred with a sudden mischief. It had been decades if not centuries since the last time he had laid with a woman ... and he was feeling weak from being confined to that blasted, hellish prison for so long. Tiny she may have been, but she'd give him just the boost he'd need to skulk around the area and fuck ever woman he could get his hands on.



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The witch’s body hit the ground with a light thud. Her right hip had taken most of the impact and she let out a sharp cry. Without any fat to insulate her, that fall likely hurt more than what it ought to have. Bright violet eyes turned up at him. Crush her? What was he implying with that?! She flushed deeply as she took him in fully. He was huge and was giving off horridly dark and twisted energy. Her mind raced. What did she summon?!

Then it came to her. This must have been a demon! Her stomach churned. Familiar spells never, ever attracted the attention of demons! There had to be a mistake somewhere in her grandmother’s writings! Quickly she picked up the book and scanned the pages. Fuck! It had been her fault. Even with this quick and panicked look back she realized that she pronounced many, many words wrong. The beautiful young blonde threw the book down and forced herself to stand.

“I am sorry,” she said. Though she was hardly apologetic at all. The circle around her began to hum and the candle’s that had been blown out flickered back on. One thing was clear: although a child Vivian Devan had a startling gift for magic. It oozed out of her. “But I am going to have to send you back.”

It did not occur to her that this being may have been stronger than her or, now that he was freed, could slip between the physical and ethereal realms quite easily. It had not registered in her pretty little skull exactly what type of demon she had managed to pull out.

Under her breath she began to chant. Planeswalking was something that she was still working on and opening a portal was tricky business for her. Luckily the one that he had came through was still partly open. Her eyes began to glow brightly as the flame grew higher, licking the air and lighting the room almost as if someone had switched a light on.
 


            • "I ... wait, you what!?"

              An abrupt wave of fear washed over the monstrous man. Return? To his harrowing chambers? To wait an eternity before another clumsy witchling accidentally summoned him? He lunged forward in a lapse of rage, his very weight threatening to collapse the floorboards below his charred, sullied soles. He intentionally kicked over the lit candles with the brunt of his heels and proceeded to otherwise destroy the witch's tomes with an unseen, ethereal force. The remnants of the now broken novels were thrust upward in an intangible window, fluttering about the room like a flock of startled crows.

              "You will do no such thing. For if you do, I will not return empty handed."

              A devious smirk laid painted across his lips. He effortlessly scooped the witch into his arms and then tossed her over his shoulder as if she were a burlap sack of freshly harvested potatoes. "However, I will return if you ... do a favor for me. I do not like to take what is not mine, but I will if need be. You are tiny, frail, delicate even, but you will suffice ... I suppose."

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Instantly the girl stopped chanting. Her grandmother’s Book of Shadows! It was a priceless family heirloom! She whirled and tried to put out the flame that had nicked the beautiful old handwritten tome but when she tried he had completely eviscerated it. Pages with smoldering edges scattered all over the room. Tears shone in her eyes. No! All of that magic, crafted through time and generations, now lost to the temper of a rampaging demon.

As he approached her she backed up and attempted an escape but his powerful arms scooped her up and she was tossed without mercy over his shoulder. She gave a grunt. The wind had been knocked out of her and she gasped desperately to catch it. All the while his words rolled over in her head. What had he meant by that? It made her pause. The door she had made was closing again and she needed to think quickly. If she gave in and stopped this mess, her life would be spared. However if she did not then she would have released a fairly powerful monster on the physical realm.

“W-what do you want?” she stammered in a whisper. The door began to close more and she bit her lip. Tears streaked down her face. Oh crap! If he parents found out about this, she would be dead anyway. “I am too scrawny to eat. All bones and no meat. I am sure I won’t be that satisfying.”
 



            • The demon's face suddenly went blank. His eyebrows imitated a flat line as did his lips. He watched the witchling almost sourly, placing her tiny on the cot before him. " ... You're a virgin, aren't you?" He peered warily about and scoffed. He hadn't been one to enjoy dealing with those who hadn't ... 'indulged' yet. Though he wasn't in the least bit compassionate nor was host to any selflessness, he didn't enjoy deflowering the pure. They whined, cried out, would command, "stop, it hurts!" while he was climbing to his well-deserved orgasm. He'd then have to stop, reposition, and accommodate their needs just so he could get his rocks off.

              "A favor, girl. I'm only asking you a favor."

              He grasped for her tiny hand - that was dwarfed by his own - and placed it on his broad chest. He wanted her to feel the heat emanating from his rock, solid body, the tightly woven muscle and each intricately threaded strand of sinew. He watched, almost in a lustful daze, as he forced her fingers to trace over his decorative runes and over his hot, tortured flesh.






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Vivian’s body froze as she was placed on the cot. The only thing she could here was the loud and overbearing thump of her heart. As naïve as she was the witchling understood all too well what he was hinting at. If she hadn’t that virgin comment would have sent alarms ringing through her mind. She did not stop him when he took her hand and placed it to his chest. The heat there had caused her face to flush. He forced her hand to move over the runes that had been carved into it. The magic in them caused her fingertips to tingle, almost burn. That was spell work most powerful. Spell work that was more advanced than what she had gotten into at that state.

After the shock had worn away she attempted, without any real measure of success, to yank her hand back from his large palm. Fear and repulsion now replaced the blank look of shock. He wanted to have sex with her. He wanted to have sex and he was going to even if she agreed to it or not. The horror! She glared up at him. Or attempted to, to mask how very frightened she was. Oh! Why hadn’t she remembered any protective spells? She could have said one in that moment. At least she would be safe.

“No!” she exclaimed. “That is just sick! You aren’t going to be the first to… that is just completely wrong! Something else. Ask something else but… but… but I am not going to have sex with you!”

Just saying it made her whole body turn hot and flustered. She clamped shut her legs and tried to get her hand back again. “I have some pretty jewelry,” she tried to reason with him. Her voice had reached a pitch that was close to having only dogs hear it. “Perhaps you would like that! Enchanted objects! They’re powerful! Priceless! Much better than me, I assure you!”
 



            • The demon did not want to force her to do anything. Though there were instances where he forcefully raped women, they were uncomfortable. Consensual sex was the best sex. Both parties were mutual and they could coordinate to reach the best climax possible. The demon grew excited at the very thought. To his merriment he knew he'd easily be able to cajole the girl into his little 'idea'. For one, she hadn't indulged in sexual activity. Did she even know what an orgasm felt like? All of these things he could use to his advantage. So ... maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

              "I'm not going to force you to do anything," he chuckled. His laugh, undoubtedly, was unsettling, but the arrogant demon felt he could persuade the witchling to do damn near anything he wanted. "Girl, I don't want your jewelery. What use do I have for material goods? Do they give me physical pleasure? They do not." He took both hands this time, positioning each digit over the runes which decorated his broad chest. He almost jerked away at the magnetic sensations summoned across the plain of his heated chest. He became cognizant of the need buried deep within his victim and took advantage of it.

              He unfurled his fist, and with nothing but burning lust in his eyes, took a position on the bed next to her. "I know you're curious," he uttered lowly, "Curious as to what it feels like ... it's just one favor ... you don't even need to have sex with me." He knew that when he was finished, she'd be on her knees begging him to sate her aroused desire. "Don't lie to me; don't say you don't feel that warmth welling up inside of you."


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Vivian bit her lip. There had been a growing desire within her. Ever since he had forced her hand to the runes the first time her mind began to think of things. Very unnatural things. She had imagined the feel of his body against hers. His touch on her breasts. Certainly his hands would be able to easily cup them where her own delicate digits were overflowed.

As her hands were against his runs again she let out a small murmur. Her hands traveled easily over the markings and she trembled. Her own eyes clouded with lust. A succubus. This demon had to be one of those twisted sex fiends! The witch had to keep on her guard. She may have not done much studying on succubae but she knew they had powers to seduce poor mortals.

Slowly she licked her lips as her mouth dried and she looked up at him. This was all terribly confusing and happening so fast. He wanted pleasure. There was nothing terribly wrong with that. Other demons would have gladly taken body parts. A little piece of skin was not anything, really. The beautiful young woman shook her head.

“What do you want then?” she asked. Her breathing was becoming labored and she closed her legs tighter, frightened by the sensation happening between them. “I don't know if I will be able to do it. I have never... I mean, I am still... ah, pure."

She flushed and her hands continued to trace over the chest. She looked away. She was being confounded by his abilities and by her innate loneliness. Perhaps she had wanted something like this to come through. Something that could hold her and make her feel beautiful. No one had ever made her feel attractive before.
 



            • "I want you to pleasure me," he uttered lowly. His voice was drawn out and husky, labored. His heart mimicked the swirling sensation he felt welling southward. Visibly his bitter, milk chocolate eyes were stormy and tempest, filled with a need to sate his untiring libido. "And in return ... I will give you something that no man will ever be able to give you."

              He watched, infuriated, as she jerked her head away. He reached out, cupped her tiny chin within his monstrous grasp and tilted her head upward to meet his gaze. He reclaimed her hands and guided them southward, down his chest forged from an unmoved mountain and set them on his obliques. His eyes flashed with a certainty, an arrogance almost. "Have you ever felt a man before, girl?" He questioned. "Have you ever held the power to make him squirm in your hands? Women do not understand how powerful they are, or the pure dominance they hold over a man."

              He set his gaze upon the woman, illustrious and lascivious. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of her glowing goldenrod locks behind her ear and let her continue to gauge the mass of heat emanating from his demon corpse.

              "I want you to exercise that power, girl. Make me squirm."


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A shocked gasp came from her. Her face began to turn several shades of red. Never before had she touched a man. She had never seen one naked. She had never been told to pleasure one. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Gods, how she wished to pull her head away but his hand kept her in place. Apprehension shone in her eyes. This frightened her but it was something that she felt like she had to do. Pleasure him. That was all she had to do to get him to go back to where he came from. A lump rose in her throat.

“I will try,” she whispered. “But I have never done anything like this.”

Slowly her hands moved downward. They trembled like a leave being blown in the wind. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Her right hand rested sheepishly on the head of the massive member. Even with it not completely stiff her palm barely fit over it. Again she swallowed and pressed her palm downward, moving her hand awkwardly over the shaft. It was hot and throbbed and frightened as well as thrilled her.

There was something extremely exciting about it.
 



            • A garbled, shaky grunt fell from the grace of the demon's throat. He allowed the soft linens on her bed to draw in his comfort while he submitted to ripple after ripple of pure, unadulterated euphoria that washed over him. His head hung back, dark, shaggy bangs shadowing his once chocolate eyes that now mimicked an impish shade of pomegranate. He felt his manhood damn near pulse in the girl's tiny hand. Each gentle prod with her fingers made the muscles in his abdomen coil tight, and his thick eyelashes flutter uncontrollably.

              Suddenly, the runes on his body flashed a bright, electric blue. As if the lights were serpents, they trekked up and down the black canals that were his tattoos. This signaled his happiness; his merriment. He flexed his chest, letting forth a reassuring utterance, and ever so gingerly raised his hips into the woman's grasp.

              With each probing stroke he felt his length grow, inch by inch, until he was nearly fully erect. In fact, the demon was almost painfully hard, but the woman's nearly clammy hands summoned an ebbing sensation. "Ughn ... like that," he growled, instilling his raw pleasure in his voice, "Use your fingers."


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Vivian could not help but look at the demon as she pleasured him. The look on his face was fascinating. It was bliss. Everything about him in those moments radiated sexual satisfaction. The blue glow of the runes made her gasp. Beautiful. This being was completely and utterly stunning. Magically this was an interesting study. Was it wrong that she wanted to jot down what she was seeing? Sketch his body for purposes of a magic nature. Yeah. Magical.

Like he asked, she moved her fingers over the massive piece of flesh, amazed at how it hardened in her hand. Her stroking became faster and she needed to use both of her hands now. Fully hard she could not wrap her hand fully around him. Her tongue darted out to lick dry lips. She wondered, for a second before she became ashamed of her own mind, what he tasted like.

At first her movements were very awkward. There was very little she knew about the art of touching a man. She didn’t know what felt good and she wanted to please him. Oh so very much. It meant that he would go back but it also meant she would get to see what happened. Her parents had not gone over such things and a part of her was very curious.

“Show me?” she asked.
 
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