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I had always excelled at magical theory. Enough that it had become rather boring to me. Against my teacher's recommendations, I had declined to enroll in New Amsterdam University's Medical Magics program years ago. While I'm sure others would have enjoyed the prestige and wealth that being a medical mage would have brought them, my taste for magic had always been a bit darker. I loved reading historical accounts of the history of magic, of the early formulation of demonic summoning, the roots and battles of the first and second Warlock Wars, and the Masterton Incremental Soul Spending Formulation that had ended WWII. Don't get me wrong, however. I wasn't some death-seeking warlock intent on ruling the world or hurting people for ever more demonic power. I just thought the fantasy was intoxicating. Live like a king from the Bronze Age, a harem of women, people bowing down to you like a god when you can stretch out your hand and make your will manifest by letting infernal magic taint your body. I'd tease my older sister about staring into her eyes and making her my slave, and she'd throw a pillow or something at my head. Mom would step in and separate us, but it was all in good fun. I was a teenage kid then, and I think most of us have dreams of that sort at that age.

The problem is when those dreams and ideas don't really go away, and nag at the back of your mind. When you stop being a kid and still close your eyes, and see the image of your mother on her knees, long black hair draped down across her naked shoulders and back, hands on her breasts, begging up at you to bless her with your cock, calling you "master". When you dream of your sister clawing at your back as she begs you to creampie her and knock her up, sobbing that you're the only man for her. I was a bit of a pervert then. Heck, I still am, though I'm smart enough to keep it secret.

Now though, I'm twenty-seven. I'm a successful public accountant with an MBA. Numbers had been my second passion, and I've happily made a career of it. I'm not rich, but I make enough that I'm able to support my mother, and even my sister while she's between jobs. They live with me in the suburbs of New Amsterdam, and we're pretty much your average single parent family.

But I'm tired of being an average family. I'm tired of being white-bread, never-gets-in-trouble, bog-standard guy.

That's why I'm sitting in front of a demonic summoning circle at midnight, candles flickering all around me at the Winter Solstice. I've got the requisite items; a black-bladed dagger, a white-bladed dagger, an offering of twenty milliliters of my own blood, a lock of my hair, and five milliliters of my own cum. Summoning a succubus for the purposes of binding her and her magical power to your own will requires a precise formula. Get it wrong, and she could end up dominating you, or worse. Every now and then you heard about an unsanctioned summoning going wrong; no one botched summoning was the same, but they were always ended badly for the summoner. But I'm a prodigy, and I'm sure I've got it right.

All I need do is spill my blood across the circle of salt I've scattered, invoke the species of succubus I intend to summon, and she should inexorably be drawn to the magical energy of my cum I've baited in the center of the circle. My blood stabilizes the portal for just long enough to close behind her, and then we hammer out terms while I've got her trapped. Standard stuff.

Still, a nagging feeling scratches at the back of my mind, and I'm tempted to double check the texts I first remembered reading about this summoning from. On the other, this night won't last forever, and I'd hate to have to wait another half a year for the Summer solstice before trying another summoning like this.

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Andee woke to the sound of the shower running. Looking at the digital clock beside the bed she saw that it was just after 6:00 a.m. As she sat up in the bed, she was trying to shake out the cobwebs and jetlag in her head when the realization of what had gone on the night before became obvious. She was naked but couldn’t exactly remember at what point during the night her lingerie had come off. She rolled out of the bed, made her way to the closet and pulled on a t-shirt from her suitcase. She...

Andee Loses a Bet and Her Panties

The whole matter began shortly after Andee’s 38th birthday. She had made one of the biggest decisions of her life and cropped her long brown hair into a cute “pixie” cut. It was a drastic change in her mind, and not long after she began to feel that she wasn’t being “noticed” as much as she had been when her hair was long. “Men prefer long hair,” she complained to her husband one night, not long after she made the dramatic transformation. But despite his constant reassurances, she still felt...

The Daily Depravity

You take ages finishing the legal document, scribbling your signature for one last time. Passing it to a woman, she leaves the reception, walking through some double doors and disappearing. Your name was Peter Newman, a regular guy who just happened to find a website one day offering millions of dollars to come on a game show. You hadn't heard of this game show, so you were sceptical at first, but with your brother advising you to do it, you found yourself signing up. The document you signed...

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