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Invocation free porn video
Invocation
By Irene Lew
It was Friday night. I practically whistled all the way
home. I shucked my shoes and went to the studio. At last I
was ready to put my plan into action. I was afraid, for I
knew that, however prepared, it would be risky - but I was
excited as well.
There was a large open space in the middle of the wood
floor. I got out the powdered moonbeams and the calligraphy
brush, and drew a large circle in the center - just a
single line - and a smaller one to the side. Then I linked
them with a line of goats' blood, selected a single orange
blossom and placed it in my pocket, and put away the
materials. I drew a deep breath and stepped into the small
circle.
In a language spoken by no nation, I called for the one I
sought. I tossed the bloom into the center of the other
circle, and prepared to wait. Exactly thirteen minutes
later (the idea being that amateurs have usually given up
and erased the circle by then, or so I'd been told), he
came, noiselessly.
He stood perhaps seven feet tall, perhaps more. His face
was unyielding and his eyes bore into me. His skin was the
red of blood. He bore no hair save on his face, but his
ears stuck up like a cat's, or like a pitchfork. His
muscles rippled with strength, yet he moved not as if by
force but simply as one who is totally confident those
things will give way before him. And, of course, like all
demons, he was completely nude, with his soldier at
permanent full attention.
He paced for a good two minutes, inspecting his
surroundings, before he spoke.
"What'll it be?" He radiated disinterest.
I answered in the same tone, "The usual, Bill."
Bill looked directly at my eyes and grinned, showing his
pointed teeth. "Are you sure, even now, that I cannot tempt
you with more? My realm has much knowledge which has been
lost to yours." He always said that, the teaser.
I shook my head. "Not tonight."
He nodded soberly. "As you say, so shall it be. This will
hurt!"
I had always loved to watch the process. Perhaps that would
provide me with some cover for what I had to do. I
unbuttoned my shirt and tossed it out of my protective
circle (Bill incinerated it as it passed the boundary). I
pulled off my socks, then balled them together, whispered a
word to give them speed, and spitefully flung them at his
head; they were a small blue fireball. He laughed. Then the
pain began.
My hips were immediately in agony. Though not the worst,
perhaps the sharpest pain short of an actual injury is that
of a dislocated joint. Unable to stand, I fell on my
behind. Fortunately I was significantly more padded there
than I had been a moment ago, but it still hurt. I kept my
legs within my circle; I had made it large enough for this.
I looked down at myself; my nipples were already swollen to
the size of plums (it felt like my skin was being torn
apart), and I could see my erection through my pants.
Suddenly I screamed in sheer horror. Surely my nether
region had just been torn out. I rolled, shouting and
weeping for minutes. When I could see again, it was only
because all the nerves in my groin had been cauterized.
Bill had vaporized my genitals, artfully leaving a hole in
my pants where my penis had pressed up moments before. I
could see the volumes of blood still welling out from the
wound. I ignored them for the moment and felt my chest
again. I fondled my sensitive nipples, not quite the size
of baseballs.
As my hands touched them, all my body hairs burst into
flame, opening a few small cuts, which formed scabs
quickly. Since my palms were against my chest, they were
stung. That was worse timing than usual - revenge for my
socks? Timing! I had almost forgotten. If my plan, for
which I had waited so long, was to work, I absolutely had
to get my pants off now. If I took much longer at it, Bill
would know something was up.
I moaned something about heat, and slid the pants off; the
remains of my underwear clung to them. Now I was nude on
the floor. I heard a laugh. A cold wind blew, and just a
little water accompanied it; it swept away all my powdered
body hairs quite cleanly, but merely caused the blood
which covered me to form a crust. The wind died... but not
completely. I curled into a ball and shivered.
My breasts were really coming along now... and I hadn't
inspected my face at all. I ran hands along it, feeling the
smooth skin. The healing must have started - yes, a glance
at my crotch showed that my vulva was beginning to grow in
where my male genitalia had been. It was still burnt enough
that I would regret it if I touched it now; I refrained.
Instead I felt my angular cheeks, tender eyelids, and soft
chin. My Adam's Apple was gone; I tested my voice.
"Much more bearable than usual. You're slipping." It came
out in the dulcet way that meant everything to me. I kept
any trace of spite from my voice; I didn't like being mad
and was determined not to act it.
"Sure, you say that now, when you know the hard part is
over." Well, what did I expect?
From there, the pain reduced steadily. Just to test, I ran
a finger down my clitoris; it felt wonderful. The first
masturbation with new equipment always did. My breasts had
reached full size, a nice C-cup. Just the way I liked them.
My hair was shoulder-length, and peach-red. Many people
have a false idea of red hair. The real thing isn't like
fire. In men it can be like copper; in women, well, I've
heard every description: Like roses, with all the beauty of
the smell put into the way they curl. (Damn flatterers, how
I love them.) Like clear peach wine. Like the sun. Most of
the rest center around flowers. To me, though, the most
honest description is simply that it's the color of a peach
near its pit. Mine has a tendency to curl in a way that I
just adore (except when Bill changes it for a lark, of
course), and I wear it down most of the time, so that it
falls in ripples.
Today, despite having been through fire, tearing, and
sweat, my hair was looking simply radiant. That's how I
know Bill can appreciate beauty.
The changes reached completion. I stood and faced the other
circle, my hands at my side. My hair hung across my cheeks
and my breathing was slow.
The demon waved a hand, and a mirror appeared before me. In
it I saw...
My male self, horribly scarred, probably castrated for
life.
He got me for a second. Then I evoked, "Arbelos o nator!"
and my true mirror appeared beside his. I inhaled! I was
stunning. From the shoulders up I was perfectly clean. My
face had the cheery look I remembered, and I giggled, just
to see that face with a smile on it. The rest of my nudity
looked unappealing at the moment; the dried blood was still
there. My skin was all perfectly smooth though. Wait - it
wasn't all dirty; a neat little triangle of fuzz grew in my
crotch. Cool, free grooming. It also probably indicated
that my transformer was turned on (his erection was
everlasting but his arousal was not), which boded favorably
for my plan.
The masculine chuckle brought me back to the present. I
dismissed the mirrors and they turned to steam, which rose
out of sight.
"Yes, very funny." As I spoke, I looked at the ground and
noticed that my stash of feminine clothes was across the
room, out of reach.
"You should have seen your face." The stash turned to
smoke. He'd seen where they were from the beginning, of
course.
"I couldn't. Somebody had replaced it." I cast my hands in
mock dismay at my unclothedness. We were both laughing.
"I'll bet you enjoy the pain."
"If you really thought that, you'd make it painless. I hate
it, of course... but it's worth it."
"True enough. Though making it painless would be almost
impossible." He paused and looked at me. "Well, I suppose
you'll be wanting to go see your date now -"
Now was the time.
"Hold!" I commanded, "For I do not release you."
That stopped him. "Something more?"
"I don't have a date tonight." What I was trying was risky.
I had to seduce him - but the older demons can always
control their urges, so I had to get it far enough along
before he realized what I was doing, or he'd just turn off
his arousedness and leave me embarrassed. And hopeless - if
I failed once I had begun, I would never get another
chance.
"Oh? I thought the programmer..."
"I dumped him."
"Well, certainly I can give you access to our male harems.
Of course, there is a price." That was no empty offer; most
of Hell is far less than its repute, but the harems are the
best in the multiverse. I'd stolen my way into them before,
but I didn't think he knew that.
"I don't want your harems."
"We have fat men, thin, short, tall, strong, weak. Would
you like to take revenge on someone for the pain you were
in tonight? We can arrange that." As he spoke I
strategically repositioned my hips, putting my best angle
forward.
"No."
"I can sell you a love philtre. Find the man for you in
your clubs, and I can assure you he will be jumping your
bones within minutes - and a happy marriage is our
guarantee."
"Love doesn't come in philtres and you know it. I can spell
my own pomegranate seeds. They don't work on the man I
want." I certainly had his interest by now... in both ways,
I hoped. Demons saw innuendoes in everything; well, so did
I, so what matter?
"Oh? One of the fey then. Or a God? Either one will surely
be difficult to deal with." He paused for thought. "I think
I can help you, though." Damn it all, it wasn't working. I
had his interest, all right, but he was about as horny as a
jellyfish. I hadn't worked out much more of my story; I had
to stall for time and hope I could be sexy enough.
I raised my arms and spun a pirouette, knowing it was
silly. Without shoes it was difficult, but I had studied
for a long time, and of course the Art aided me. "He's a
very handsome man, and thoughtful. Any woman would love
him, except for his station." True enough. I can twist
words with the best of them.
Was that a smirk I saw? Was he on to me? - No, surely he
just imagined that I had foolishly allowed myself to love
the Prince of the Mabh, or some such personage.
"Have you a plan, or is it lore you seek?"
"Both, I think. I seek the lore to learn whether my plan
will work."
"Always you were a wise one."
"Not always. In this, I hope." I was staring at his chest
now. He might not be aroused, but his muscles were making
my nipples solid as stone, and I was nearly leaking down
below. Keeping focus was hard.
"Tell me, then, of your plan. Coming from you it will
surely work."
It had already failed. If he weren't aroused by the
gestures of submission I'd been making all evening, he
never would be. He might even have caught on. How could I
get out of this in a way that would leave me a second
chance? My mind was giving no ideas. To buy a few more
seconds I did another pirouette, and held the spin.
He waited patiently. Of course. My Bill is always patient.
Patient, but did he not wonder at why I was stalling? As
soon as it occurred to me, it was a certainty. He knew.
Even now he must be trying to figure out what I had sought
to gain from him. The longer I delayed, the more I dug my
own grave. I came to a halt, looked at the ground to ease
my dizziness. What could I do? I was already defeated. My
cheeks were burning.
I stepped forward, out of my circle. "Curse you, Beelzebub
Beelzebubsson the Thirtieth! Couldn't you let me get what I
want?"
If he'd wanted to test my defenses, our fight would have
finished in seconds. He'd been here so often that this was
as much his home ground as mine. I looked up. He hadn't
left. Why hadn't he? I raised my volume.
"Do you think just because you're tenth in line for the
throne, you have to be immune to women?" I took another
step.
He still hadn't said a thing. I lowered my gaze to his
nether area.
Pointing straight at me, as always. "You knew I was trying
to seduce you. But you could have let me. What could I ever
really have done? Didn't you trust me at all?" We were only
two steps apart now.
I raised my head to meet his eyes. They were already
looking into mine. I placed my hands defiantly at my waist
and glared into his soft, pointed eyes. I had had sex many
times, but never had I felt more feminine.
"You were the one I wanted, Billsy. Ever since we met, who
else have I told my deepest secrets to? Who is the only
Artist I had no reason to fear?" Our power was roughly
equal; the few human practitioners I knew were all far
beyond me. "I wanted to bind you! The Prince of Hades. My
greatest secret was the same as the one which Persephone
kept so well that even the Greeks got it backwards. I loved
a demon, though I should always have known he could feel
naught but lust" - I spat the word; the tiny drop of
spittle evaporated when it touched Bill's chest - "in
return." I advanced.
We stared at each other for the longest few seconds of my
life, and I nearly lost my resolve. Knowing I could not
foreswear myself this time, I stepped forward once more and
was within his circle.
Instantly he had grabbed me. He had one arm behind my back
and one under my knees; I was in his arms butt-downward,
and could do nothing about it - physically. Magically we
could still have had a fair fight, I think. I started to
speak, but he interrupted.
"Now, you listen to me -" he paused, called me by what I
had long considered my real name, "- Irene." I shivered.
Yes, whether live or die, I would never be male again past
this day. Yet his arms warmed me; this would be the last
time I was ever to feel them, but they gave me comfort.
"All night you've been acting like some sort of whore.
Modesty may be superfluous when we've known each other this
long, but you seemed to have the idea I wanted to dominate
you. That's what they all think. I thought you were
smarter. You've been a bad girl and you owe me an apology.
"And then what would you have done if your seduction had
worked? Bound me? Yes... Like any demon, I could be bound.
Would you want that? Truly?" He stopped, seemed to want an
answer.
I had lost it all, but I had to say it. "No! No, Bill...
anything but that... but how could you ever have come to me
otherwise? How could we have ever had anything, where you
have Hell's Aristocracy and I have the Circle as our
chaperones? At least then we could have been together. It
was wrong, I'm sorry."
My tears were genuine. It felt GOOD to cry them; as a man I
never would have. It was like a release from a lifetime of
secrets. I knew that the tears would gain me nothing,
though.
His voice softened. "Irene... Innocent Irene."
I snorted. "I'm as perverted as you."
"Yet you know so little about being a woman. You thought it
was being gentle, demure - your dance lessons - submissive,
the way you acted tonight. And you spoke of pomegranate
seeds as if you would want coerced love. In your way, you
were the one who thought it was all about sex, never me."
I stopped crying, blinked. Beelzebub, my sweet prince,
continued, "Demonesses are like fire. They don't want men;
they want creatures they can dominate. All who they touch,
they burn. Oh, some of our kind do try to couple with each
other, but they are always uneven relationships. Always the
man, or the woman, secretly wants to be tortured. Among
young demons ill-fated relationships are even common. Those
of us who grow up, know that love as equals is the only
true way. Yet politics makes it hard for us even then. Most
despair of love and pretend they were never able to feel
it.
"No, by far the best for a demon wanting love would be to
mate with a human. Yet this can only be allowed when the
human is our prisoner. I could never imprison you, Irene."
Ever since I chose it, I have loved the sound of my name.
"I waited, oh, I waited, for you to say something. But
never you did. I had to conclude that you were too much a
coward to break with tradition. It saddened me very much -
for I knew that you were not a coward.
"I told you that you had not understood femininity. In the
past minutes, as you walked toward me, you gave the most
wonderful display of femininity I have ever seen." As I
understood, I am sure that - for the first time - I
blushed. "Womanhood is defending your own - in primitive
times, your nest. These days, perhaps you're right to a
man. Womanhood is the way you were enraged when I scorned
you tonight. Womanhood is being businesslike, too,
something you have ever done admirably. And, most of all,"
My eyes were dry now; I looked at him as if seeing his face
for the first time.
"Womanhood is how cute your face looks right now."
Later there would be plans. We would have to elope; neither
of our sides would want us around. Perhaps to another
plane? Perhaps merely to the mapless lands. With our
powers, faking my death here should be no problem. The
Circle didn't know of my gender-changing habit; keeping it
secret had been the whole point of calling a demon that
first time. They would never find us. Nor was there any
need for delay; we might as well start tomorrow, so that I
would not have to become male again. I don't think I could
have borne being a man after that night. Adventures would
come.
For then, we kissed.
Liesl
- 13.04.2021
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