Gods above. This is a prayer to please, Please, PLEASE let me escape the people pursuing me for the last three weeks. The people who work in your names, or at least your boss’, to fend off the demonic whores that infest this la- Oh damnit, they stopped because I’m stepping into a land infested with demonic whores. Errrrrgh.
I escape a lab under a cathedral run by zealots to not get cut up and now I’m in a land where I’ll get fucked up… sexually. Again. Gods, noooooooo… No! nonono, no demons, no energy, no magic please no. Just- just no- just stay here without the Church guys who are now going away, this nice big cave to sleep in, the stars above, and this big empty field. Except it’s within some monster’s territory. Wherever man doesn’t go, monsters fill the void. Aaaaaahhhhhh… Just please whoever is listening, let me lie on this cave floor alone long enough to collect my senses…
Where exactly am I anyway, brain?
Let’s see, I got a good look at those maps back South before being run out of that town, one of them was marked ‘Known Demon Realms.’ These places and cities hosting cathedrals are the last places for safe refuge I reckoned, but apparently my blind panic has lead me into one of the former. Or at least on the border of one. So who owns the territory a couple of kilometers out from here?
Uhhhhhh… Someone… lustful.
Yes, very helpful, brain.
Owner is a… Lilim.
AGAIN, VERY HELPFUL, BRAIN.
Next line of thought! Is this sort of place actually safest? The Church dares not step in for the most part and the monsters will eventually leave me alone once they find out I’m not… overly compatible with sexual relations. Plus there’s zero demonic energy in the area for now. Maybe this can work if I find a river, maybe a lake. Water and fish is a fine diet for the rest of one’s life, right?
Figure it out in the morning. Figure everything out in the morning. Sleep in warm cave for now.
Money. Authority. Respect. Fear. Knowledge. Indoctrination. Experience. Diplomacy. Force.
The thing I want most in the world is power. All kinds of it. It isn’t enough to be just rich or just smart or even just a lilim. I want to be, need to be, all three and more besides.
What would my sisters say, my mother say, were I unable to hold my own? The thought of anything slipping through my fingers, here in the Northwest Reaches, MY claim is offensive, but captivating. Every challenge is something to exert power over, to stamp on, grind, harass, enslave, destroy. But what kind of power is needed to conquer each one? I want to know everything to keep everyone under my thumb, including the man I’m on my way to see now.
He’s squatting two kilometers from the edge of my territory, in a place I want to expand to for additional farmland in the future. Perhaps I should just save some time and take him and the land altogether. The ruckus we’ll raise as I claim him will spread enough demonic energy anyway.
My flight over my city, over all my villages dotting the land, are greeted by enthusiastic cheers and smiles. In seconds they turn to cries of ecstasy and lewdness. “Hail, Lady Palamina!” They say as they begin to shiver. “Thank you, my ladyyyyyyYYYY!” They scream as they shake. I hate and love those sounds. My weakness is my strength, I tell myself. This out of control magic wins me everything and everyone I could desire. It will win me my next prize.
And there it is. That big grassy low plateau with all the tall rocks and the boulder sculpted into a cave placed on the edge. Used to be a place of ceremony way back when, dunno for what. It doesn’t matter though, my magic has just felt out HIM down there. By now he’s probably hurting for relief, to pounce on the first warm hole he sees. He’ll be satisfied after I am.
I land and run a hand through my long, bright pink hair, flying always leaves it so unruly. Pink tentacles ending in spiral points magically appear and snap up in formation around me, ready to trap him, tease him, deny him; I can’t wait. A dramatic walk exaggerating my nice, wide hips should suit this occasion. Even in his lust, he WILL take in my image. My pink wings spread wide to welcome him, my shirt with the precise tears around my chest, the fabric straining enough to indent my spotless pale skin, and my long legs with flared leggings wrapped around my calves. I am flawless.
It brings to my mind the question, what could he look like? Tall or short? Muscular or gangly? Masculine or feminine? Once I know, it’ll be easier to figure out how to make him mine. It’s not that he isn’t already from my magic, but I want to ‘customize’ the experience of my conquests.
Aha, there he is, curled up on the ground like a baby. The effort in swaying my hips is wasted. My tentacles lash out, grabbing his rather thin limbs and yanking him out of the darkness as he gasps. Fear and surprise are both audible and visible as I pull him up and stretch him out like he’s about to be strapped onto a torture rack. He can’t move at all, hard as he tries, gasping like a fish and flinging his head to and fro. Good. I can wrap him up in my wings and arms, try to drive his helplessness and excitement to their peak with sex in the sky on the way home.
There’s an awful lot of blood though, looking at the ground. Can’t make mine what’s dead. But as I look over him, his visage appears more and more alarming. I become less and less sure that I can soar back home with him before he dies. His scalp is swollen and practically pulsing, yet his terrified face remains normal. But that’s only if you can call nearly glowing red normal, including his eyes. The colour is so deep that I almost don’t see the blood streaming from those almost blackened orbs like a war torn river, droplets falling from his shattered bird’s nest of a beard. I wasn’t expecting th-this, and his dick isn’t even erect. His tattered pants reveal completely white s-skin, all his bl-blood is flowing to his s-skull. There’s nothing I can do, nothing within my power. I don’t even know what’s causing this.
“Get away!” A demand that comes in half a scream and a gasp. In my panic I drop him, tentacles just hovering over his shaking form. The sour taste in my throat from the act rapidly turns to shock at the sight of him scrabbling backwards on the ground away from me. His beyond bloodshot eyes never leave my form, lips flicking droplets of the falling blood towards me as he shouts over and over, “Get away! Get away!” Each time becomes more and more like sobbing until he finally curls up in the darkness against the wall of the cave, crying, heaving, and clutching his head. A blood-streaked track is left on the ground from his retreat that looks like it belongs to a wounded animal.
I’ve failed. My constantly radiating charms mean nothing for the first time against a man. I feel the magic I use to colour myself fading, everything pink turns to white in shock. I start to backpedal and that sourness in my throat comes back. A stray but terrifying thought sends me retreating faster, “Am I killing him?” He can’t die, not before becoming mine.
I hate that I’m starting to fly away. I hate that I need a new plan for seducing a man of all things.
… But first, I think he needs to be kept alive.