The Worst Succubus in Hell

Saluations, Felarya Forum!

This is my first submission of a story to this forum, so I ask that you simply go easy on me!

I am not even remotely sure how to introduce myself, so I will simply avoid introductions beyond this: I have a DeviantArt account, with the same handle as this forum account, where I have everything I've ever written.

After two years, I have six watchers but haven't solicited attention until now, which is why I'm uncertain how to write this. I appreciate each of them and their opinions, and one of them suggested that I post my latest set of stories here for a change. I will merely post the first part. If this thread is ignored, I will simply leave to work on my craft somewhere that I won't be an eyesore. If it receives a positive response, I will post the additional four parts of the story which I have completed so far or you can easily find my page on DeviantArt.

The following story is meant to be somewhat light-hearted and humorous, so of course my success is entirely subjective. On the other hand, it also qualifies for every mature content criterion which DeviantArt lists: Nudity, Sexual themes, Violence, Strong language and Ideologically sensitive material. That, in itself, makes it at least as worthy of a read as an Uwe Boll screenplay, I would say.

The Worst Succubus in Hell part 1

Infernal fire roared into existence in the small office. "Bellarax! Bellarax, where are you?" the Demon Prince of Hell's Third Circle bellowed, all fire and muscle and horns. A small girlish voice called out incoherently from beneath a pile of books. "I swear, Bellarax, you are the worst demon in all of Hell." His eyes glowed as he waved his hand, the books flying off the poor succubus as she gasped for air.

"Y-yes, sir. I truly am worthless," her rosy lips stuttered as she hid her hell-tanned face behind long silver hair.

"I've come for the yesterday's report on the immigrants to Felarya."

"W-well sir, I'm still writing it and--"

"Beelzebub's bollocks, woman! Tell me right now why we even bother feeding you!"

"I don't know, s--"

"If you don't have that report in my office in the next three hours, I'll personally see to it that you don't get a single soul to eat for the next three thousand years! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"As clear as Lucifer's icey prison, sir!" she stammered. The Prince vanished in a cloud of ash and sulfur, leaving her alone to sit in the ancient demon-skin chair which had belonged to every Demon Guardian of the Veil since time immemorial. It wasn't the most glorious position in Hell, but there wasn't any other job she could actually do because her only talent was scrying—magical remote viewing. And everyone in Hell had to have a job.

She closed her eyes, and peered into the world of the living, the realm of the flesh. Yesterday's events unfolded before her, and she began to scribe them down in the blood of the damned using a pen made from the spines of cowards. Following are a few of the more interesting travelers to the world she saw using her second sight.


Location: Deeper Felarya
00:25:22 HST (Hell Standard Time)

The towering trees of Deeper Felarya obscured the night sky as a portal storm erupted from the violent magical ether, spewing an armored cadre into the wilderness. Hell's Central Intelligence confirmed their heraldry as being from the Marrlaghan Mage-Knights of Bathalchiar. Almost immediately they began laying waste to the forest, attempting to clear the canopy in order to see the sky and determine where they were.

This seemed to upset a nearby sequoia dryad, who easily sensed their collective life force. After observing that they required complicated hand gestures to cast their magic, she conjured vines from the jungle floor which snaked up and enveloped them in a single powerful nature spell. She has spent the entirety of the remaining day teaching them a lesson about their arrogance and a new-found respect for nature, mostly by seeing how many of them she could fit in her mouth at once. She has yet to consume even half of the Bathalchiarians, and their chances of survival seem lower than those of Lord Agra'athxyl's latest pet snowball.


"So hungry," she groaned in unison with her stomach. Bellarax opened her amber eyes and wiped the drool from her lips. Those skanky succubi like Menyssan got to eat so many delicious damned souls, while she was basically fed the few scraps from their table which no other demon in Hell would touch. The sins of those she ate were so minor that they had practically no flavor, and the fear she smelled on them only made her that much hungrier after she finished her meager portions. Sometimes she didn't even bother to eat them, and instead kept them as pets. They never lasted long, as she was often punished with periods of starvation for her inability to meet the Prince's insane deadlines.

"Oh angel dicks," she said, choosing one of the most minor of demonic curses to use, "the deadline!" She blinked a few times, and then her eyes clouded over as she began to have more visions.


Location: Ascarlin Mines
01:32:23 HST

Of all the countless square miles they could have appeared in, two mages found themselves a mile-and-a-half below the surface of Felarya in the Ascarlin Mines. They were almost deep enough to wander into one of Hell's gates, but instead wandered down a tunnel which no mortal had ever happened upon. Suddenly, it collapsed both behind and in front of them, revealing a chamber lined with the most beautiful veins of ascarlin I have ever seen. The exact coordinates follow—they would look great in the bejeweled horns of His Ever-Maleficent Lord Ba'alzevul the Blinged One.

As for the mages, they turned to each other and immediately began examining the strange stones. One of them recognized the dreamstone for what it was, and the other recognized a fire succubus pleasuring herself quite noisily in the corner with her own insanely long tongue. I can venture a guess that this loyal demon was there in an attempt to extract the ascarlin for the glory of Hell when she was trapped in a cave-in. Whatever her story was, she suddenly became interested in her new treats.

When she approached them, the one who first spotted her panicked. Not recognizing the nature of his opponent or the dreamstone around him, he launched a massive fireball. It engulfed the succubus, then passed around her harmlessly and ricocheted off the wall behind her whereupon it tripled in size and split into several bolts all of which continued the process until there was simply no air—or anything else besides the succubus—in the chamber.

The resulting tremors were felt as far away as Ur-Sagol.


What an irresponsible servant of Hell, she thought. The only reason she didn't name her specifically in the report was because the accusation could be traced back to her and she would suddenly have a fire succubus breathing down her neck—and presumably breathing fire no less.


Location: 68 miles off-shore in the Topazial Sea
03:03:00-and-a-half HST

The moon reflected off the choppy ocean waves as a fleet of warships clipped through the midnight-black water. Their banner indicated they were of the Grand Inquisitorial Fleet of Morgdekkai. They had spotted a mermaid near the head of their fleet, and thinking it was a deadly sea-dragon they promptly attempted to fill her with holes using a wide assortment of nasty pointed objects.

The mermaid called out with her song, and a moment later a song more beautiful and louder than the end of the world rose from beneath the waves. The sea swelled up and the poor bastards had the misfortune of meeting a very pissed-off leviathan mermaid. They had attacked her school, and now they would have been infinitely better off if they had in fact been dealing with a simple sea serpent. With a single flick of her 300-foot-long tail she smashed the flagship in half—lengthwise--and the sea began to foam underneath the wreckage as a horde of vengeful mermaids devoured the hundreds of inquisitors aboard the ship.

The leviathan reached out and picked one of the boats clean out of the water, turning it upside down and dropping everyone on deck into her throat--which was so massive she probably didn't even get any enjoyment out of feeling them struggle on the way down, although I suspect they must have been richly flavored with the spice of vengeance and fear. When she was done she tossed the boat at another, completely wrecking both their shit so-to-speak. The frantic frothing of the school of mermaids moved from wreck to wreck as their protector let them feed on the freshly-decimated fleet of thirty ships and roughly two thousand religious zealots.

When every last one of the sailors had been pried from every last hiding place within the wreckage, the mermaids left the wood to drift forgotten to wherever the currents may take it. It was over in a matter of hours—so quickly that not a single one of the men had seen their first or last Felaryan sunrise.


What Bellarax wouldn't give to have just one of the smaller ships completely at her mercy like that! And especially Inquisitors of Morgdekkai, known throughout Hell for being among the most hypocritical orders of divine inquisition to ever grace the torturous bowels of Hell—and by that one of course means the torture pits formerly known as "the bowels of Hell" and shortly thereafter the literal bowels of the denizens of Hell.

She sighed wantonly and closed her eyes, scribbling more visions.


Location: a two-hundred mile swath of destruction far north of the Great Tree, the fires of which can be seen from Negav if one of those cute little humans or neko are foolhardy enough to climb to the summit of the Ascarlin Mountains.
07:48:22 HST

This is a priority level message: intervention for the preservation of soulstock in Negav may be necessary.

It seems the entirety of the barbarian hordes of planet Skullfuck were exiled to another dimension by the wizards of the sole remaining civilization of that world, and unfortunately for us they were sent here. Their most notable acheivement on their homeworld was managing to burn down an entire ocean with sorcery in order to cross over to invade their neighboring continent.

They are currently marching towards Negav, and over the course of the day the Guardians have failed to act as usual. Heaven has stayed its hand, perhaps waiting for Hell to make the first move to intervene. Negav continues to serve as a breeding ground for some of the more tormented souls of Felarya, and upon their deaths so ripe with sin they are valued as high-quality and well-sought-after delicacies by the upper classes of Hell. Many favors are exchanged for these souls, for money or power or sex—often all three. It is therefore not an understatement to say that a good portion of Hell's economy revolves around the harvesting of such souls, and should Negav fall it will fall quickly and entirely. This will result in a momentary flood of supply, a drop in prices, and a falling out of demand followed by a lack of a new steady supply for at least a thousand years. Sure, the Demon Lords of Hell can and will be able to afford what little influx of grade-A souls we obtain, but the rest of Hell will have to make due with souls that haven't marinated all their lives in the sinful sauce that is life in Negav. There could even be revolts, which is the last thing Hell needs if rumors of the impending Unholy Crusade upon Heaven are to be believed.


Bellarax had to put the situation in terms her supervisors would understand. She wouldn't get any more or less food out of this one way or the other, so she personally couldn't care less if Negav fell or not. But she still tried to make herself care about the wellfare of Hell—it was her home, after all.

She checked the clock on her desk, a simple steel contraption with bronzed figures of live humans being scalded in the pits serving as weights on the rotary pendulum. It was an attractive present for any demoness, given to her by her last supervisor who had expected a little sexual gratitude in exchange for the gift. She refused in a manner unbecoming of an ambitious succubus and he called her a "third-rate angel of a succubus" over the whole incident. She hadn't really gotten over the harshness of that insult even after all these decades.

Thinking about such upsetting memories made her hungry, and she wished that those little bronze weights were real, live humans. Of course, if they had been then she would have eaten them a long time ago--she had gone through this line of thought many times before.

The rest of her report consisted of every other incident of note involving travelers arriving in Felarya that day. None was as disturbing as the barbarians' arrival, however. As she set her pen down, she checked the clock once again. She had finished with fifteen minutes to spare. She crammed the sheets into a canister and put them in the pneumatic delivery system which spewed flames as it launched the report to her supervisor.

She sat back in her chair, and grew extremely bored. Being a succubus, it wasn't particularly odd for her thoughts to go from boredom to casual sexual arousal. She unbuttoned her top, letting her breasts sit more naturally. Some other succubi were a bit jealous of her figure and features, and even with her ignoble birth she had many suitors—both incubi and other demons. When human women have a rivalry they can be downright cruel, and when human men shower a woman with attention their intentions can be obvious. Increase the cruelty and sexual tension of these situations by a factor representing the sheer ancientness of demonic etiquette and you might have some idea of how Bellarax might have felt as she sat there in that chair.

Her hand idly slipped down the front of her skirt, and the cameras her supervisors had secreted into her office to watch on their Hell-o-visions recorded every minute of it. She suspected as much, because whenever she took time off for her personal needs she never got so much as a knock on the door by her superiors, of whom she otherwise had several barging in at countless times a day.

Suddenly her head began to spin and ache as if she had been struck on the head by a supervisor's motivation-stick. She fell out of her chair and onto the floor as she watched her skin turn to ash, burning away her clothes. She recalled this magical effect from somewhere in her schooling but simply couldn't think clearly enough to identify and counter-spell it.

Suddenly it was blue and cold, a striking contrast to quite literally everywhere she had ever been in Hell. But it was not quite so unusual for night time on Felarya, which she quickly assumed was her present location. She smelled someone nearby—not the musk of a demon or the perfume of a succubus, but the simple smell of a human with a living body. She sat up, and realized that her clothes were nothing more than smoldering ashes at this point. She covered her nipples with her hands, then her crotch and left breast, before realizing she didn't have enough hands to carry out the task and finally just giving up all-together. She looked down and saw a man in robes of sky-blue laced with platinum and gold and silver markings.

"Ah!" the man proclaimed. "Just the succubus which I intended to wrench from nowhere less than Hell itself! One as beautiful as yourself must truly be as powerful as they say," he said.

Her self-esteem was so abysmally low that she almost corrected him, then realized that this morsel may be even less trustworthy than the demons with which she spent her days. As a succubus, bluffing came naturally to her and she said in a tone which surprised her, "You foolish little snack. You would have been better off dying in the attempt to summon me, for now you will perish in my stomach twice-over—first here with your mortal body and then in Hell as little more than a soul!"

"Before you eat me, know that my name is Yahvain the Mystic."

"I can assure you I have never heard of you, but likewise I should give you the courtesy of my name—Bellarax."

"Now, now Menyssan, you can't trick me. I already know your true name. And that is how I will bind you to my will!"

"Judas's left nut," she proclaimed, "I shouldn't have said that. Wait, you think I'm that slut Menyssan?"

"Of course! This ritual was designed to bring forth the one called Hell's Second Gate, that I might bind her to my service and conquer Negav."

Bellarax sighed. "First, I'm rather upset you think that I'm Menyssan, of all succubi. Second, how in Satan's horned cock would a predator as voracious as Menyssan get anywhere near that city with its warding Eye? And third, you obviously haven't thought this all the way through--and are lucky you summoned a weakling like me and not the actual bitch you were looking for. There's no way you'd be able to bind her to your will, and even if you did she would just outsmart you every step of the way."

"Silence! I should cast you back into Hell or the void, or better yet into Heaven to await trial!"

"Trust me, anything would be better than sitting here and talking to you. I'd have eaten you already, if I weren't watching my figure by avoiding any junk food."

His face contorted with anger, much to her enjoyment. Suddenly he drew the blade of a dagger across his palm and chanted as the blood dripped into the soil, "blood of demons, blood of gods, dawning of the final hour. Submit to me, my disciple-to-be, and grant to me thy power! With these words I enthrall thee, Bellarax!"

By the time he had finished his incantation, she had already grabbed him in her fist and raised him to her mouth, half-intending to chew him up just to stop him from completing his surprisingly ancient and powerful true-name-based binding ritual. But just before she bit down, he shouted, "Don't eat me!" and no matter how hard she urged her jaws down on him, she couldn't do it. He simply sighed. "Now, let me out of your mouth."

The lack of specifics was his fault, and she abused this fact to violently spit him out. He rolled several times on the ground, bringing a smile to her face because he hadn't yet told her she couldn't express joy at slapstick comedy. He stood up, brushing the dirt from his robes, and began walking towards her. She raised her foot into the air and swung it down like an axe, but a quick command from him froze it mere feet above his head.

She realized there were two possibilities: either he was truly much more powerful than her which meant he could do what he wished with her, or she simply didn't have her heart set on breaking free quite enough. Either way, she found that this was quickly becoming annoying.

"I'm a bit upset that you have that chaotic spirit still burning strong inside you. I'll have to test the limits of my control before carrying out the rest of my plan."

"Even if your control is perfect, you can't use me to take down Negav."

"One step at a time, my dear pet," he said. A thousand generations of demonic pride boiled in her veins at the insolence of this one stupid little mortal.

"You'll pay," she said simply.

"I find that exceedingly unlikely," he smirked. "Perhaps the problem is that I haven't embarassed you quite thoroughly enough. You demons are known for your pride, after all." He began walking towards her. "Spread your legs," he said.

Her tan cheeks took on a rosy hue as her amber eyes flashed blood-red for a moment. "What did you say?" she asked in equal parts indignation and shock.

"Judging from your reaction, you heard me quite clearly. I command you to spread your legs."

It was less as if she obeyed of her own accord and more akin to feeling tremendously strong hands forcing her legs apart. She immediately covered up with her hands, showing an unusual self-consciousness for a succubus that didn't go unnoticed by the mage.

He walked forward with a perverted grin on his face. "I'm afraid you'll have to move your hands. You're blocking my view." She felt her fingers peeling themselves away one at a time before her hands suddenly rose into the air high above her head.

"Hmm," he opined. "I was expecting it to look...angrier. Threatening, not...cute. And apparently it's fashionable in Hell to shave, as well—I'm guessing that's to beat the heat. Yes, it must be..."

She growled a sound which every demon in Hell would recognize as a threat of bodily harm usually reserved for the unguarded genitals of one's enemies. He responded by simply saying, "now, now. Eye candy should be seen and never heard." Immediately it felt as if hands were pinching her vocal cords to keep them from vibrating. Normally a succubus would find any form of choking rather erotic, but for some reason she just wasn't into it at that particular moment.

He placed his hand along the inside of her thigh and dragged it along as he approached. Her skin prickled with goosebumps out of sheer revulsion, although Yahvain assumed it was an indication of her arousal. Suddenly she felt him touching her vulva with what she hoped was his other hand, and wished she had gone through training in Hell's army rather than its intelligence branch. If she were any other succubus, he would be nothing but a smoking pair of boots filled with ash by now. She sighed silently, realizing that if she were any other succubus then this idiot probably wouldn't have been strong enough to bind her in the first place.

Sheepishly she managed to whine, "just get it in and out and over with it!"

"No, no, I intend to take my time," he said. Either he was lying or he may have been about to prove himself to be a more generous lover than most demons she had heard of. Either way, she didn't feel like having her virginity stolen by someone whom she should have eaten when she had the chance. For a moment, she questioned that thought, wondering if anything a human could do to her would actually count as sex. Her thoughts turned to more pressing matters as his hands began to wander.

Suddenly, he stopped. "Hold on. You've been rather obstinate and recalcitrant ever since I pulled you from the inferno. Why are you suddenly giving in now?" She wasn't entirely sure how to answer in a way that would keep him from making the situation worse. When he felt that she was too silent, he touched her again and she nearly threw up a little in her mouth, and he shouted, "I command you to tell me why you're trying to deceive me!"

Deceive him? She looked down, her breasts obscuring the view of exactly what he was doing down there, and she said through a lump in her throat, "Yes, it was a trick." At this point she wasn't sure if she was lying or if he was even smart enough to tell the difference.

"I demand to know what manner of trick this was. And be honest!"

She blurted out the biggest lie of her life. "In the billions of years of demonic evolution, a sort of sexual arms race between demon and demoness anatomy has been waged. Fearsome female offenses evolved against the common tactic of rape and other aggressions, and in response the males have developed defenses to avoid them." She panted, unsure of what she had just done. Had she finally broken free of the binding spell in that moment of infinite desperation?

The mage said in a morbidly curious tone, "what...what sort of defenses?"

"Well, there are the retractable teeth to prevent unwanted access," she lied rather brilliantly. Her bluff penetrated so far beyond the man's defenses and seeded itself so deeply in his imagination that he immediately ran backwards, tripping over a loose rock and continued to scramble on her arms and legs until he was past her knees. He could have easily continued his awkward rape if he had the forethought to command her not to harm him in any way, which should probably be the first command any summoner gives to a newly-bound demon anyway. However, he was rather terrified upon realizing that there were apparently worse things succubi could do to someone beyond swallowing them whole.

She tried to close her legs again, but realized she was still bound by his previous command—the binding was still in effect. Apparently they had similar wishes for different reasons, because he immediately told her to cover herself up. Apparently if it was out of sight it would be out of mind.

He cleared his throat and said, "Very well. We shall proceed with my plan now."

Bellarax sighed. "How many times have I told you about that city?"

"We won't start with something so grand. Besides, he'd just get in the way of my plans."

Bellarax asked indifferently, "Who are you talking about?"

"My most reviled rival, around whom every move of mine must be as furtive as possible lest he discover my true motives. I command you to give him no clue about what I have in store for him and this world."

"You're no fun," she frowned. "So who is he?"

* * *

"Ah my dearest maiden angel," the white-robed wizard said gallantly, "Verily none as fair as thee hath ever crossed the humblest path I tread. I am known far and wide as Galerion the Great, and I pray thee that thy rosy lips wouldst grant mine ears the pleasure of thy name."

Bellarax stared at the strange little man bowing before her, unsure if he was mocking her or if he was truly as addle-brained as Yahvain. In light of the fact that Yahvain considered him to be his greatest rival, she assumed he must be quite as daft as she suspected. "My name is Bellarax," she said as she studied him with her golden gaze.

"Bellarax?" he repeated, "what a strange name for an angel. Rather proud, and with a demonic ring to it." Having also promised not to say a word about her actual nature, she instead could only smile and spread her leathery wings as wide as she could several times, amazed that he thought her wickedly curved and tapering goat horns were in any way angelic.

"Oh, dearest Galerion," Yahvain said with egregious swagger, "your deficiency in the elements of supernatural naming is surprising. The name 'Bellarax' is obviously vulgar Angelic for 'she who really loves the Lord Most High'."

"Ah, yes. I, of course, knew that, as I am truly as great a scholar as I am a mage. However...one cannot blame me for my apparent lapse in thought, as it is nearly always nothing less than a miracle to chance upon an angel," he managed to say.

'Nice save,' Bellarax thought to herself with seething sarcasm. "So then you have never seen an angel before?" she asked, enjoying the irony of the question.

"I have seen many a maiden not half as fair as thee, and only now in thy presence do I see how greatly mine eyes hath hitherto been wanting."

His dialect was as forceful as it was flawed--but it was also charming, and his delivery was practically thespian in its forcefulness. He was certainly infinitely more pleasant than Yahvain, save for the fact that he kept insulting her by calling her an angel.

Yahvain grabbed Galerion by the shoulders. "Yes, yes, my friend you truly know how to layer the flatteries thick upon a 'maiden'" he said, making quotation marks with his fingers at the last word. "In fact, when I first described your noble personage to her, she immediately swooned at the...noble...nobleness of your nobility—as angels are wont to do from time to time."

"I'm...afraid I do not understand, good Sir Yahvain."

He whispered in his rival's ear, yet the succubus's ears picked up every word. "I'm saying she fancies you, Galerion."

Bellarax rolled her eyes as Galerion recoiled away. "Such an appallingly vile blasphemy, Yahvain! Hast thou no shame?"

"A maiden is free to give her heart to whom she wishes, and the man who rejects such advances is shamed, Galerion."

"I'm well-aware, Yahvain," he said in a measured tone, "but this is no mere maiden, but rather an angel!"

"Galerion, I understand your feelings, but I'm beginning to suspect you may not have what it takes to be a true mage-knight."

"Thou wouldst do well to be careful with thy next words, sir Yahvain," Galerion said as if he were cursing.

"I mean no offense, but look at this rationally. You have yet to take up the courtship of a lady—and without such patronage you cannot take up even the most minor quest without bringing disgrace to the Order. There are rumors that you may not be interested in the ladies at all, in fact."

"Preposterous codswallop!" he exclaimed indignantly. Bellarax stifled a laugh.

"I assure you it was not me who started these rumors," Yahvain almost certainly lied, "but a mage-knight is only worth as much as his deeds, and your deeds in the bedchambers are lacking."

"Everything thou hath said is as true as ever, Yahvain. But, even so the question remains...how exactly do I...with her..." he held his hands out to gesture the obvious problems involved.

"The same way a human does it with a succubus," Bellarax said.

"Not even to save my very life would I ever engage in such a vile act," Galerion bellowed.

"That's not what I meant. I'm just saying it's not anatomically impossible—after all, you wouldn't be the first target of an angel's affections," she smiled. "And because I'm so madly taken with you, I'll tell you a secret we angels usually keep to ourselves. While it is a well-known fact that willful sex with a succubus will damn you to Hell, consensual partnership with an angel assures you a place in Heaven!" Great, she thought to herself. Now even she was referring to herself as an angel.

The temptation of paradise both here and hereafter was apparently too great even for the noble Galerion, and he dropped to a knee and unsheathed his mage-blade which he held vertically in front of his bowing face. "I, Galerion the Great of the Most Resplendent Order of Felaryan Mage-Knights, do bequeath my undying devotion and loyalty to the maiden angel Bellarax who hath seen fit to take me as her mage-knight."

Smiling at the willful submission of this fool to her designs and desires, she said in a voice that did little to hide her pleasure, "I accept, Galerion the Great. Arise, my mage-knight." Likewise, Yahvain couldn't contain his exceeding joy at this turn of events. Rather than slaying his rival he instead had done something better—he had bound him to his service by means of this succubus.

"Now, as a first order of business," Bellarax said, "Would you turn away, sir Yahvain, while my mage-knight and I ...consummate our vows?"

"No, no my dear," Yahvain said, remembering what she had said about her frightening anatomy, "change of plans. That's not how we're going to play this game."

"Praytell what game mayst that be?" Galerion asked.

"You fool! All this time I have been--" Yahvain said before the succubus's tremendous finger cut his villainous monologue off with a flick to the neck. He gasped as he tumbled through the air.

Galerion looked up at his angel. "Relax, he'll be fine," she half-lied, knowing he would only be paralyzed for about half an hour yet fully intending to make him suffer. She swallowed some drool, realizing that she was in a position to eat both the most noble and most devious souls she had ever chanced upon in all her three-hundred-or-so years of existence. It was all thanks to how much power she had gained through the demonic pact with Galerion, which was sufficient to negate the binding ritual of the foolish little Yahvain.

The thought crossed her mind to simply eat both of them, but then she realized it would be a pleasurable experiment to masturbate with something that could put up a struggle. (Admittedly, most succubi have the same realization by the time they are ten, but Bellarax was about as model a succubus as this Galerion would be a theologian.) "Come on, my dear little mage-knight, ravish me!" she said, splaying herself out on the ground as her breasts heaved with soft laughter.

"I'll do my best to try," he said.

"I hope you can do a little more than try" she smiled.

"Rather forthcoming, m'lady. Very well, my magic specialty is the manipulation of force, after all. I'll do my best to make sure you feel this," he said, stepping through the canyon created by her legs and getting as close as he could to her perfect nakedness. "Curious," he said.

"Don't tell me this is your first time seeing a full-grown woman naked," she said.

"Ne'er hath mine eyes beheld a beauty as fully-grown as thee, m'lady, and moreover I have taken a personal vow to myself of abstinence from such vices as debauchery and nudery."

"Oh, you're just a treat..." she said, licking her lips.

"Your praise is appreciated, maiden, but not nearly so much as I would appreciate some libram or manual wherein I may find the techniques to bring you your due pleasure."

She reached down with her massive fingers and began pointing out erogenous zones and explaining them to him. When he said nothing, she asked jokingly, "are you taking notes down there?"

"In mine mind, mayhaps. While I find this all quite titillating, I find it even more unusual that angels apparently engage in such acts of self-gratification."

"Yes, well," she stuttered, "there's only so much joy to be had from singing in choirs and playing the harp all day long."

"I can imagine," he said. She sat up, wondering how long he was going to take before starting. She saw him raising his hands with a quizzical look on his face. He reached out and touched her, and while the location was appropriately sensitive and his pressure was appropriate for pleasing a human, he was being far too gentle for someone her size.

She reached down, intending to simply grab him by the ankles and take over his job for him, when suddenly he began exerting more and more force to the point that he exceeded the limits of human strength. She gasped in surprise at first, then moaned softly as he moved in exaggerated circular motions.

He was good, but she started to get bored of the repetition after a few minutes—and with the boredom came the hunger, a hunger amplified by her arousal. Wondering what else her little toy could do, she said, "I can take over on the outside...there are some things that you can only do from within."

Galerion suddenly stopped, and said, "I would, m'lady, I would...but I have a certain fear of tight spaces, and your maidenship has perhaps the tightest space of any--"

"Your maiden commands you to penetrate her," she growled, not even worrying about sounding like an angel anymore--if the horns, wings, tail, and conspicuous lack of a halo didn't give away her true nature, then her hellish arousal wouldn't either.

A smarter man would realize that he really didn't have a choice about ending up inside her in some fashion, given how hungry and horny she was. Galerion was not a clever man, but nonetheless when he saw the fingers of one hand begin massaging as the others splayed open a path for him, he felt left out. He went in head-first, using his magic to increase the traction of his hands against the moist interior. Bellarax gasped at each advance he took, like he was pinching her from the inside just softly enough that it was pleasurable.

Once inside, it became apparent he didn't exactly know what to do. He couldn't move in and out fast enough to simulate sex, and eventually he started to panic. It seemed like he had lost the ability to rationalize, because he felt like he was trying to turn around so as to crawl back out. The struggles as he stretched her out from inside with his frantic arms and legs, combined with her own manipulations, were bringing her to what was easily the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced.

Over the sound of her own heavy panting she heard Yahvain standing up, and with a trembling hand she reached out and grabbed him. Her back arched involuntarily with pleasure, and as she slammed back into the ground she brought the mage closer than he ever wanted to be to her mouth. With her breath hot and wet from pleasure, she laughed, "you know, this actually feels pretty good when the one doing the touching isn't completely into it for his own pleasure. Of course, I wasn't thinking far enough ahead to foresee the whole oxygen problem. He's going to pass out soon from hyperventilation or something."

"So you're going to kill us both, then?"

"Actually I think I'll hold onto my pet for a while longer. He needs to work on his lung capacity, though. You aren't so lucky--the exact second I have my petite-mort, you will have your grande-mort. I've heard rumors that it's a sensation to die for," she moaned. Her mouth opened and closed over and over, faster and faster as her breasts heaved with the waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She felt Galerion's movements becoming sluggish, and instinctively rekindled her arousal by first licking and then engulfing Yahvain. As she swirled him around in her mouth, Galerion sealed Yahvain's fate with a final twitch that brushed against her g-spot. She swallowed him and managed to moan at the same time, her head swimming in ecstacy.

She collapsed on the ground, everything motionless except for her breathing and her stomach as it began to awaken and greet its new guest. She had an intense urge to fall asleep, but felt a flicker of a certain emotion that was strange to a demon. She hadn't ever felt it before, but it drove her to feel as if she needed to free little Galerion from within her before he asphyxiated or drowned.

She pulled him out, and he wasn't moving. In fact, he was completely limp. While having something limp come out of her after sex was something that would otherwise be normal, she was overcome with surprisingly great concern—especially considering she had wanted to savor the paradoxical flavor of his pure yet damned soul just a few minutes ago. In fact, now it almost seemed unthinkable that she would ever have wanted to eat him.

She pressed on his stomach a few times until her own fluids came out from his mouth, and when he coughed she sighed with relief. When she realized how strange her reaction was, she simply thought that it must be her instinct—that her stomach had room for more, but wanted to feel him struggling inside of it and fully alive.

"Was my performance satisfactory, m'lady?" he breathed.

"Yes, I wasn't expecting you to make the world spin like that. It was very sweet of you." As the words left her mouth, she immediately knew something was wrong. Thoughts ran endlessly through her mind. Was this some sort of human sex enchantment? Had he given her a disease of the mind? What was this feeling?

"M'lady's countenance grows troubled. Such a look is unbecoming of an angel."

She expected to wince at being called an angel yet again, but instead it sounded to her like an incredible compliment. Suddenly she realized the gravity of what was going on in her head. Maybe it was because of the intensity of the pleasure still making her blood run hot, maybe it was because she felt sorry for him because of how she had used him and damned him, but she had definitely grown to have some sort of feelings for this human. This wasn't the way this is supposed to work, damnit! Succubi make mortals fall in love with them, not the other way around!

She almost wanted to go straight back to Hell, putting the grim reaper between her and this man. But then she imagined the endless laughter of every co-worker who would inevitably find out about this scandal. No, everyone in Hell would recognize her face as the succubus who loved a human! Such infinite disgrace! How could she redeem herself? Or maybe it could work to her advantage.

"Bellarax, I pray that I have not caused thee pain."

She glared at him with harsh amber eyes, but the longer she looked at him the softer her gaze became. She almost cried, but tears wouldn't come. Then, she realized the one narrow chance she had: the barbarians marching towards Negav.

No, it was impossible. All she could do was divination magic—essential before a battle, but useless in actually winning a fight. She looked down at the little mage. "Wait, what kind of magic did you say you used?" she asked.

His chest puffed out as he proudly proclaimed, "force manipulation, a magic passed down a proud line of a hundred apprentices and first discovered by the great wizard Patrarcus. When employed by one as clever as myself, it is equally well-suited for both offense and defense, as it increases my strength while turning my enemy's strength against them."

"And how many battles have you fought in?"

"Up until now I have lacked the affections of a maiden from whom to receive a quest, and as such I have only dueled for mine own honor."

She smiled. "How about I charge you with a quest right now?"

"I would be honored, m'lady."

"I was sent from Heaven because a horde approaches Negav."

"We must inform them at once!" he shouted.

In a flash of ingenuity she brilliantly lied, "I've already sent Yahvain to tell them." She smiled at her own cleverness before continuing with the truth. "But I fear the mageocrats would be too slow to respond. In a matter of days the city will be overwhelmed."

"How strong are their forces?"

"Tens of millions."

"And Heaven saw fit to send a single angel to fix this situation?" He gasped and a realization dawned on his face. "No, this simply cannot be. How blind I've been! Thou art no angel—no angel at all, art thou?"

She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Well, you're going to find out sooner or later...I'm--"

"An archangel!" he exclaimed..

"What?" she said, dumbfounded.

"Yes, it was so obvious! M'lady is an archangel! Truly I must be the noblest of all my order for one such as thyself to fancy me as her mate! Yes, with my assistance thou shall crush the heathen barbarians."

She laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, you've totally figured it out..." She lifted her face upwards and mouthed a demonic exasperation that he couldn't see before continuing, "But actually...I don't do 'crushing'."

"Thou dothn't?" he said in perfect anti-grammar.

"No, not so much."

"I object to this apparent contradiction," he said mirthlessly. She felt like she had her foot yet again firmly in her mouth. "For thou were crushing me within thy loins not ten minutes ago." It took her a moment to realize he was making a lewd joke, and she gave her best laugh which came out undeniably awkwardly.

"Such good humor m'lady has. But enough merry-making. We must make haste--to battle!"

"Shouldn't you get armor or something?" she asked, hating herself for how concerned she was over his safety.

"Ha!" he laughed boastfully. "I am far too brave to hide behind armor."

'Oh dear overlords of the underworld,' she thought, 'he's going to get himself killed, isn't he?'

End of Part 1

<3 awsome cant wait for part 2

Two years.... Two years. You've been writing this stuff for two years and you only got six watchers? I'm not sure whether to be glad you've finally spoken up here or mad that you've not advertised yourself for that time. Really, you should have said something sooner. You are obviously an intelligent individual to write such quality. I hope you become more active around here.

To the story itself. Minor discrepancies aside (some things about how hell and magic work, etc), this is great. You have succeeded in making this humorous, the demonic curse words are hilarious and the events amusing. Barbarian hordes.. Planet Skullfuck...

I will also note that this kind of thing ahs been done before (Demon falling in love with a mortal) however you've written it quite well so far and have included a large dose of humour. I I read on to the next chapter I hope that you've kept your own unique spin on it.

Wow. That's awesome

Anime-Junkie wrote:

Minor discrepancies aside (some things about how hell and magic work, etc)

Please don't misunderstand!

I am, amateur writing aside, an engineer/scientist at heart. So, I have unusual ideas about things like magic. Not that it wouldn't exist in a fantasy setting, but more that if it existed it would follow rules (I couldn't write it very well if it didn't have rules). And since Felaryan magic doesn't come from one world (and one setting) every character can have their own flavor of magic. So, Yahvain's magic is completely different than Galerion's or Bellarax's.

As for Hell, this is just the way I envisioned it in a way that I could actually use it as a setting. I figured it would be amusing to combine a quasi-Dante-esque type of Hell with a ruthless business that essentially dealt in the souls of the recently deceased from across all the worlds of reality. That's what I was going for.

These are just my own interpretations of things, of course. Also, any other discrepancies in this can best be explained by the fact that I wrote parts 1 and 2 in their entirety rather than sleeping one night.

I personally liked the way the magic works, I guess it's because I read to many star wars books along with a couple other things.

You rather modest if I'm honest :p

Anime-Junkie wrote:

Two years.... Two years. You've been writing this stuff for two years and you only got six watchers? I'm not sure whether to be glad you've finally spoken up here or mad that you've not advertised yourself for that time. Really, you should have said something sooner. You are obviously an intelligent individual to write such quality. I hope you become more active around here.

I haven't always written like this. You are seeing the result of two years of practice. Writing is not a natural talent of mine--it's something I keep working at because I know it's never good enough. If you read my earlier stories on my DeviantArt page, you would find the quality is definitely lacking in all the metrics with which you would measure a story as an art-form. The reason I continue to write is that there has been improvement, and I have seen it--and so have the people who have watched me at some point along the way. But it will never be as good as I want it to be. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

I posted a story here a long time ago, now that I recall. That was my first post, actually. No one here appreciated it--I don't even know if it received any responses. My attitude was the same back then, and so I returned to seclusion to work on my abilities--just as I promised I would do with this story, should the same thing happen. I have not returned until now, and I am greatly satisfied by the responses I have received. Again, it indicates a continual improvement which is the only thing I expect from myself besides eventual perfection.

erogg wrote:

Anime-Junkie wrote:

Two years.... Two years. You've been writing this stuff for two years and you only got six watchers? I'm not sure whether to be glad you've finally spoken up here or mad that you've not advertised yourself for that time. Really, you should have said something sooner. You are obviously an intelligent individual to write such quality. I hope you become more active around here.

I haven't always written like this. You are seeing the result of two years of practice. Writing is not a natural talent of mine--it's something I keep working at because I know it's never good enough. If you read my earlier stories on my DeviantArt page, you would find the quality is definitely lacking in all the metrics with which you would measure a story as an art-form. The reason I continue to write is that there has been improvement, and I have seen it--and so have the people who have watched me at some point along the way. But it will never be as good as I want it to be. And I wouldn't want it any other way.

I posted a story here a long time ago, now that I recall. That was my first post, actually. No one here appreciated it--I don't even know if it received any responses. My attitude was the same back then, and so I returned to seclusion to work on my abilities--just as I promised I would do with this story, should the same thing happen. I have not returned until now, and I am greatly satisfied by the responses I have received. Again, it indicates a continual improvement which is the only thing I expect from myself besides eventual perfection.

Well, you have definitely improved! And I appreciate that you take the time to work on it. So often people come in with poorly written stuff, flip out when it does not get a standing ovation and then vanish.

Your writing is very good and I hope that I can see more of it! I understand the pains of writing and have the utmost respect for one who attempts to better themselves. Stick around and come by more often!

Jætte_Troll wrote:

Well, you have definitely improved! And I appreciate that you take the time to work on it. So often people come in with poorly written stuff, flip out when it does not get a standing ovation and then vanish.

Your writing is very good and I hope that I can see more of it! I understand the pains of writing and have the utmost respect for one who attempts to better themselves. Stick around and come by more often!

^ This. I can't find anything wrong with this at all. Good spelling and grammar, nice flow. Always try to keep improving yourself, man.

I approve of this.

5 people have replied over the course of 24 hours since I posted my story here. I greatly appreciate this feedback! And since part 1 seems to have been a success, I am going to post part 2. We get to see what Galerion can do here--will it be interesting? Let's find out.

(continuing directly from where part 1 left off)
The Worst Succubus in Hell part 2

As Bellarax flew threw the air, carrying her servant next to her bosom, she spotted the rising smoke of the flames of war. She hadn't ever had a need to develop her predatory senses (as she was practically handed her food for all these hundreds of years) but there were so many tasty-looking souls out there that she could sense them over an hour before she could see them.

And what a sight it was. An invading army more massive than any other in the last twenty years stretched out into the horizon which was laid bare by their deforestation. And if it wasn't stopped it would crush Negav like a naga who wasn't watching her step would crush an ant.

"M'lady, it would be best if thou were to throw me in," Galerion shouted.

"Are you insane?" Bellarax replied.

"Dive from on high to get as much speed as possible, and then launch me parallel to the ground through their front lines. While I distract them, thou art free to rain down divine retribution."

Although she was surprised with the use of both large and meaningful words on his part, she did as he suggested; as his body plowed through endless rows of the horde, she thought he surely had died. Then, with horror, she realized that ten million barbarians were looking at her as a threat. She flew as fast as her wings would take her behind the cover of the trees, then began scrying for her foolhardy companion.

When she found him, he was standing in a ring of incredibly angry-looking brutes who drew their assortment of weapons. The crowd parted and a twelve-foot-tall marauder walked out with an equally large warhammer that must have weighed half a ton.

"Hail, my absurdly large fellow, I am known as Galerion the Great."

"Grop not mince words. Grop squash silly man!" the sasquatch shouted as he swung down with his hammer. The force of the blow blew up a cloud of dust, obscuring the aftermath of the strike. When it settled, it was apparent that not only had Galerion not been pounded into the ground like a stake, but that he was holding the attack at bay with a single outstretched finger.

"Care to try again?" the mage-knight taunted as he wiped something from his nose with his free hand.

Grop didn't so much respond with words as much as grunted angrily before he swept sideways with his hammer. Galerion jumped as soon as he saw the direction of the attack, and once it was over he was simply gone. His calm and irritating voice called out, "a warhammer of this size is a terribly predictable weapon. It can only attack from above or from the side." Looking around, Grop saw Galerion standing at a forty-five degree angle off of the business-end of his hammer. His stance gave the impression that he had received special permission to somehow make gravity his personal bitch.

"Get off Grop's smash-smash," the brute whined, flailing violently around with the hammer. Suddenly the weapon froze in place, evidently not of Grop's will, and Galerion was calmly standing upside down on it. He walked around the edge until he was upright, and Grop let go of the hammer, backed up several paces and put his fists up as his enigmatic enemy stood on a levitating warhammer.

"Grop, my good opponent, I will spare thy life if thou will bring me to thy leader."

Grop drew his fist back and charged forward to deliver a haymaker. He didn't make it very far: with a simple step backwards onto thin air and a tap of his foot, Galerion propelled the weapon so fast that it didn't move so much as disappear along with half of Grop's face. The giant stumbled forward and toppled to the ground. Galerion also dropped to the ground, albeit much more lightly.

He turned around and pointed at a random ruffian. "Thou there, how art thou called?"

"Bob," he said in a stunned voice.

"Bob the barbarian?" Galerion repeated. "Very well, thou shall take me to thy leader."

"Warlord Bawss don't see no-one that he don't want to see," Bob said.

The mage-knight stepped forward and put his hand on the man's shoulders. "Then I'll simply make him want to meet me," Galerion smiled, patting him on the shoulder and driving him into the ground, then stomping his foot which sent the man rocketing into the sky.

At this point about twenty or thirty men all threw their swords and axes and clubs and spears at Galerion. They all appeared to strike him before rebounding off and flying in all directions in a chaotic storm of weaponry. The men who were still alive and able to run did so, and a ripple of flesh spread through the ocean of bodies until everyone within a hundred yards of him was dead or dying.

Bellarax couldn't believe what she was witnessing. Why did the strong ones always have to be so stupid? But there was no mistaking that this was to her advantage—if he continued to service her every desire with that sort of ludicrously-powerful magic, this world could be hers!

Galerion coughed up some blood, much to Bellarax's confusion, but he simply wiped his hand off on his white robes which had already been splattered with little bits of Grop. "I seem to be exerting myself slightly more than in my training," he said to apparently no-one in particular. "Hopefully I will not have to do anything too flashy today." He looked up in the sky. "Where could m'lady be? Then again, what sort of mage-knight would expect their damsel to fight with them in their battles?"

He saw his shadow grow more pronounced on the ground and spun around to see a wall of fire racing towards him. He crouched low to the ground and waited for it to get closer before vaulting an impossible height and clearing it completely, landing a few feet away from the man who appeared to be controlling it. Bellarax blinked her mind's eye and when it opened again it had relocated to the sight of an impending bloodbath.

"Hello, sorcerer. I am the oft-celebrated Galerion the Great. And you might be..."

"Kwrop. You killed my little brother."

"And which one might he have been, again?"

"Grop the Hammer," he snarled. "But I have no words for you--only my vengeance."

"My friend, no one's heart races faster over a story of vengeance than that of a mage-knight, but I have no wish to fight every last one of thee."

"Why have you come, then?"

"I simply wish to speak with thy leader, this warlord called Bawss."

"You do not deserve that honor," Kwrop spat.

Galerion sighed. "I'm becoming a bit weary of such weaklings as thyselves. I'm trying to spare thee from the wrath of an approaching archangel."

Kwrop laughed. "What gods or demons do is of no concern to us until every last one of us is dead."

"Thou may think thusly, but I can assure thee that thou art most unfortunately mistaken."

"And if I am, I simply ask you to prove it. For example, where is this archangel of yours?"

"Yes," he shouted to the sky. She realized he was calling to her when he said, "where is this archangel about whom I could wax a hundred days and nights and still be describing her beauty alone?"

"I'm so totally going to die. This plan is stupid," Bellarax said over and over as she took to the air. The horde cowered in her shadow and she landed standing with a foot on either side of Galerion and wearing her most confident face.

"You...you said an archangel, right?" the sorcerer asked.

"That I most certainly did indeed," Galerion smiled.

"I wouldn't look now, but there's a succubus standing right above you."

"Oh, please, my good sir. I am far too wise to fall for the oldest trick in the book." He laughed, "really--'there is a succubus behind thee'. Can thou believe this man, Bellarax?"

"He's clearly confused," she said, not entirely sure how a barbarian sorcerer possessed more intelligence than a mage-knight.

"B-but look at her terrible rams' horns!" he shouted.

"I admit those concerned me at first, my good sir, but upon closer inspection I have realized they are obviously a most-sacred diadem—she is an archangel, after all."

"She has great leathery wings!" the man said, gesturing wide with his hands.

"I assumed that her feathers were simply molting," Galerion said with profound simple-mindedness.

"Her tail!" the sorcerer said triumphantly, holding his index finger in the air and drawing a wavy line. "Surely you must realize that angels do not have tails! But succubi do—exactly like hers, in fact!"

Galerion approached dangerously close, growling, "my dear younger sister had a vestigial tail--wouldst thou call her a succubus as well?"

Realizing that he was probably dead regardless of how he answered, he responded, "is your sister eighty feet tall?"

"Ah-ha!" Galerion proclaimed, "and thou hast just proven mine argument, for her triumphant stature is proof of the rank she holds in Heaven most high!"

"Succubi are giant as well!" he shouted with his face in his palms. He stamped his foot and put his hands over his head. "And if she's an angel, where's her halo?"

"There is just no reasoning with thee, is there?" Galerion said in a way that would have been infuriating--if he weren't so pitifully lacking in the rudiments of intelligence. "Bellarax, these men refuse to take me to their leader. His name is Warlord Bawss, but I have not the foggiest idea where he may be."

She closed her eyes, repeating the name in her head until something came into view. "I see...a large tent of furs. Inside there are women throwing themselves upon a man twice the size of Grop, apparently trying to please him sufficiently so that he doesn't think about rupturing them with his member."

"Take me to him, m'lady," Galerion said. She reached down and picked him up, then took to the air with a frantic beating of her wings. Not surprisingly, the mob didn't bother attacking them out of shock and terror. She flew for an hour and reached the tent, but as she tried to land she found herself dodging fireballs and lightning from below. The mage-knight proclaimed, "simply toss me down there once again, and I shall see to the rest of this matter." She flew up several hundred feet, then flattened her wings to her body and fell to the earth. At the trough of her dive she hurled him straight down before beginning to circle the tent from above the obscuring smoke from the camp fires.

Galerion crashed through the roof of the tent like a meteorite, and as the dust from his landing cleared the sunlight peeked through the hole he had made. Cast in the crepuscular rays of the noon's light, his delusions of being a champion of Heaven were finally manifest to others. He bowed courteously.

Bawss stood up, wenches literally falling from his body as his head nearly reached the top of the tent. "You are not one of my men," he proclaimed. "How did you make it this far into my camp?"

Galerion pointed up and said simply, "I flew."

The warlord droned, "yes, of course you did. And I assume you have a reason for being here, too."

"If thou were to continue thy advance in this direction, the forces of Heaven and Hell would be forced to intervene. And if both should meet in this Megiddo, it could very well be the end of the world."

Bawss smiled. "I am a man of simple tastes. What I find lacking in quality I simply augment with quantity. Be it my many women," he said, grabbing one of his wenches and tossing her aside, "or my waves of warriors," he said, gesturing with his hands beyond the fabric of the tent, "or the countless wars which I have waged over countless worlds." He turned away and walked to a weapon rack sitting on the edge of the tent. "I had always hoped to see the end of the world, and I would be overjoyed to have a part in it." He grabbed a bladed chain whip that was as long as a naga's tail, then turned around to stare at his guest with eyes burning with the fires of war. "But to be the one to trigger it? To bring about the twilight of the gods—the final war? What greater honor could I ask for?" He began walking to the center of the tent. "The one constant throughout the history of every civilization past or present has been war—it was how man came to be, and how man shall end. But of course, warriors such as you and I already know that. It's in our blood."

"If that is how thou doth truly feel, why yet do we speak?"

"Why indeed!" the giant roared, his face contorting into the very visage of a mad god of war as he swung the chain along a horizontal arc in Galerion's direction. The mage-knight jumped into the air over the path of the attack, hovering there as the weighted blade at the end tore the supports of the tent into splinters. The top of the tent came crashing down upon Galerion, and with a flick of his arm the giant pulled the blade back to his hand.

Unable to see a hint of where his opponent was, the warlord deftly slashed a cross-shaped gash in the roof above his head, then used his position in the center of the tent to swing the weapon in a nearly-complete circle, destroying every remaining support. The tent came crashing down around his shoulders, and to his surprise he saw Galerion standing in the very same spot he had been all along—having escaped the collapse of the roof through the same hole through which he had entered the tent.

The warlord began swinging the weapon in a fearsome circle above his head--building up fifty feet of angular momentum before bringing every last bit of it crashing down upon his opponent's head. His scarred face widened with a demented but short-lived grin as he quickly realized that his opponent had neither been flattened nor was even collapsing like a ragdoll.

With a single hand, Galerion grabbed the blunt base of the bladed spike and held it firmly. His other hand wiped a now-continuous trickle of blood from his mouth. "Thou hath managed to scratch me, I grant thee that," he said, spitting blood on the ground.

The giant threw his head back in hot-blooded laughter before growling, "so you're tougher than you look, are you?" He pulled the chain back and it grew taught, but the blade at the end simply wouldn't budge from Galerion's hand. Bawss grunted with fruitless exertion, too surprised to notice the sudden increase in blood-flow from his opponent's mouth.

"Nay, gentle giant. It is not so much that I am tougher than I appear, but rather thou art simply far weaker than thou wouldst like to believe."

"I'll kill ya' for that! What would a little shit like you know, anyway?" he bellowed, giving up on his chain entirely. He lumbered towards Galerion, interlocking his fingers as he raised a two-handed fist to strike down like a hammer.

"I know now that thou can never defeat Negav," he said, lifting the business-end of the spike into the air and letting the giant impale his hands on it with the full force of his attack. Even though the rocks on the ground lifted and fell, Galerion did not slide even an inch backwards from the weight of the blow.

"You little bastard!" the warlord shouted, holding his hands up--they had been impaled together by the blade-spike, and he tried to pull it out with his teeth but it had become lodged firmly between the bones.

Galerion looked up at the giant, blood now running freely from his nose and beginning to trickle from his eyes, and he took a step forward. The warlord retreated two enormous steps, now truly terrified. "What are you?" he cried.

"I...am a lowly human—Galerion the Great. And while my kind may fight to defend this world, in the end it doesn't even belong to us."

The blood profusely running down from the warlord's wounds began to run cold. "But with all your power and your magic, who could stand against you? Who are the true rulers of this world?"

Galerion threw his head back and called to the sky with a voice as forceful as the sea and carrying a single drawn-out name: "Bellarax!" Winded, he fell to his knees, and the thought crossed Bawss's mind to finish him off while he wasn't looking—if only he had a free hand. As he looked down at the man who had defeated him, just as every witness present was doing, a shadow landed with the force of the hammer of a god. Her skin was as tan as if she had been cast from the sun itself, and she spread her great black wings out and crossed her arms. Her face was completely enshrouded by the shadow cast by the halo of sunlight pouring around the back of her head, silhouetting her wickedly curved horns and casting her silver hair in a golden light.

Everyone who could see this creature instinctively backed away, unsure if it was divine or demonic and even more unwilling to find out. She picked up her champion, now spent from battle, taking him into her hands and then taking to the skies like a valkyrie come to escort a fallen warrior to Valhalla. Galerion closed his eyes for a moment to take a well-deserved rest.

When he opened them, he felt the heat of roaring flames nearby and the smell of ash was thick in the air. He looked around, but could see nothing through the blood-red haze other than the figure of what he grimly realized was a succubus sitting there watching him for some sinister reason. No, this wasn't possible. He was the noble mage-knight of an archangel, and he had died in service of both her and the innocent—there was no way he could be in Hell. Not unless something had gone horribly wrong.

He stirred and the succubus looked over at him. He pulled his weapon free from its resting place and held it with a trembling, weary hand against the demoness. "Foul creature borne of fire and feasting on the sins of the damned," he said, "I know not by what trickery you have absconded me from my rightful seat amongst the virtuous and most holy, but know this—I will not go down without a fight!"

The vile beast plucked the sword effortlessly from his hands and dropped it out of the narrow range of his vision. With her massive hand, she clutched him and brought him to her face--where he could make out the vague features of her mouth as it opened wide. A glistening tongue snaked out and licked him, wrapping around his body and working in tandem with a deft hand to slip him inside with a wet sucking of her lips.

In the warmth and blackness, her soft tongue jostled his exhausted body around—pressing him against tooth and cheek yet for now avoiding shoveling him down her throat. He thought of Bellarax for what would surely be the last time and took pleasure in the fact that he was far too weak for this creature to enjoy his struggles as she digested him. But suddenly and unexpectedly, he felt himself emerge back into the relative cold of Hell as his body was strained dry of any excess saliva by the compressing of her lips.

He landed in an outstretched hand and immediately realized the blood-colored haze was gone—as if his vision had somehow been obscured until just now and somehow the affliction had simply washed away. He looked up and saw the night sky obscured by a smokey mist, and down below was a roaring campfire. All around were trees—or at least their burned and dessicated remains. "This is not Hell?" he asked.

"Are you complaining?" Bellarax asked. He turned to see her fair features and kind yellow eyes staring at him.

"Not at all, m'lady," he smiled.

"Good, because I plan on having you serve me for quite some time. My mission from Heaven goes beyond routing a single barbarian horde."

"Then they have not taken Negav?"

"No, thanks to you they are without leadership—they scattered into smaller and smaller encampments, and now they are spread so thin that the predators will no doubt get to them before any of the men get to Negav."

"I'm certain defeating the warlord of ten million men would be an acceptable first quest for any mage-knight," he boasted. "Wait, for how long have I been sleeping?"

"Two weeks," she said.

"No wonder I'm starving. I must break my fast." he said.

She smiled, and lowered him down to the ground. In front of him was a covered wagon and on either side another. He hobbled over, looking inside. "Food!" he laughed biting into an apple and a loaf of bread. After he had his fill, he asked, "m'lady, where are all to the caravaners? I must repay them."

She looked away. "The wagons were strangely empty when I found them," she lied. Her stomach rumbled and she covered her hand over her mouth as she burped softly.

"Strange, indeed," he said, none-the-wiser.

Galerion was happy, a gift that came from living a virtuous life and having an empty skull. Likewise, Bellarax felt that she had accomplished something as well—although she knew it wasn't yet time to return to Hell. She knew they could manage without her, but Galerion would miss her greatly. And so I have now told you of the first adventure of the worst succubus in Hell who happened to become the naughtiest 'angel' in Felarya, and of the mage-knight who served her faithfully. But how long can such a union last? Run along now, there is much work to be done, but return soon my friends as the story must go on.

Thats what you want in a a lacky strong loyal and dumn as a brick

Wow, more people oughta read this, this is phenomenal O_O

This is a damn good read! Totally adding you to my DevWatch list! :3

Erotic Guy Geoirgier (Sounds like a good name for an ecchi manga). After reading Abraxis, Revi, Ark-Five, Desolas, Competition, LARP, and... well, everything, I'm inclined to agree that you have a bad habit with power; one of the first things Rythmear told me about Gunther was that running around being flashy in a base camp would be the single most un-Gunther thing he could think of, and yet it's exactly what you did. The thought of leaving the fate of Felarya to some girl who likes vore, or leaving the fate of Felarya at all, was also quite out of line, the belief that belief is power is one of my major turn-offs, and the end for Cray felt like a complete bridge drop kick. Ark Five was quite an apotheosis of those things. While we all like seeing a young woman in charge of her own destiny, the count made it look like there's no such thing as a countermeasure to magic- which seems to be a recurrent theme in your work. Desolas was by far your best series. Nothing wrong with it, because there was nothing but fetish, and there's nothing wrong with having a fetish.

For a while, I even had the patronizing feeling I would be able to teach you a thing or two- a feeling best ignored, I can't allow my opinion of myself inflate that much. While I may not fully agree with some of the happenings in your series beginning with Competition (an absolute neophyte defeating the war wizard, for instance, allowing anyone the strength of a predator without any good explanations, or leaving every nonmage completely and utterly defenseless to whatever kind of magic was intended for use on them), I do agree with how it went. Your series about Bellarax was also shaping up pretty nicely, with the kind of hilarity I can't get enough of- up until the point where it became mandatory somehow to reintroduce us to a power trip of the unfamiliar, flashy kind. I am a thorough, thorough reader. May I point everyone to your deviantart page?

Though I also dislike any notion of magical theory and discard it as an unnecessary oxymoron, you've worked really hard at it. I know one or two dozen guys who simply love that stuff- we butt heads every single friggin' time magic comes up, they'd simply love you. And I know that I'd feel you're doing the vore right too if I had any taste in vore. Nevertheless, your main focus seems to be on epic, and I'm not big on it. Neither am I into single people taking on the whole world- much less named primary canon characters for the sole sake of overpowering them, with a kind of magic so unexplainedly powerful for absolutely no good reason. You remind me of Michael Moorcock on a bad day.

Won't say I've not been guilty of this myself- and sullying our lovely Felarya, but I already destroyed all proof so it can't be held against me. Either way, try to think if that is really necessary. As the stickied thread on the character forum says, power is not to be exaggerated like that!

Well, let me jjust say here: great job. The story's pretty well written.

My only gripes with it are that Galerion seems a little bit is WAY overpowered. Now, I like a guy who can tear crap up like a god as much as the next guy, but that's probably one of the biggest things that'll land you in hot water when writing a story. Right alongside placing the fate of a large area or the whole world on the shoulders of, well, ANYONE (although, there MAY be a loophole if it's a small place and something that you specifically created in terms of placing the fate of an area on the shoulders of a person). To my knowledge, only Karbo has the permission to do something like that and that's because he owns the place. He also, to my knowledge, seems to not do that sort of thing.

Besides, everybody knows that it's more entertaining to watch your hero get beaten up, survive on determination alone, and then pull a victory out of his ass (if it's a confrontation between two beings of the same size, otherwise the smaller one either escapes or gets eaten). Kinda like Bide in Pokemon, but more exciting.

Aside from those problems, it's pretty well written and I'd like to see more of it.

Thank you for an actual critique, Stabs. If powerful characters aren't your thing, then nothing on my profile really offers you anything, sadly. However, most people seemed to enjoy the story--you're the only one who's called me out on Galerion's bullshit, and for that I thank you

I'm starting a new series--the Diary of Argyle--about a guy who only knows how to fight in bars and for whatever reason could never wrap his head around magic. But I can't promise you'll like it. You'll just have to give me another chance and critique me yet again, because that's the only way I can improve.

As for The Worst Succubus in Hell story in this thread, it has officially ended. (The rest--parts 3 through 6--can be found on my DA.) Note that even more insanely powerful characters than Galerion show up, so it's probably not worth reading for some of you.