The Sorcerer's Apprentice

"Arno can't even summon an imp!"

Arno felt a blush creep up his cheeks, but shame turned to mortification when Lenda spoke up.

"Leave him alone, Draz. We all have our own pace." She smiled at Arno. A kindly, supportive smile that spread her red lips wide and filled her big dark eyes. His heart lurched in his chest to see it. At the same time he hated it almost as much as he hated Draz.

Draz sniggered. "Of course we do. You and I were summoning imps before we'd completed even a year of our apprenticeship. Arno's just a little slower. This is your third year, isn't it, Arno?"

It was Sundown Eve in High Farleon, the City of Sorcerers. And that meant that all the apprentices were gathered on the steps of the Library in their pale blue robes. Arno and Draz and Lenda, and Kismon and Seri and Flendo and Nib and a handful of others, drinking honeywine and boasting of their skills. Tomorrow was a feast day, and the Master Sorcerers would attend the great Sundown ceremony in the great Guildhouse, so tonight was a time of licence.

"I can summon an imp," Arno retorted. "Master Gace has guided me through the summoning rituals many times." Still, the blush didn't fade from his cheeks. Master Gace hadn't in fact trusted him to perform the ritual by himself yet.

Draz sniggered again. "Guided you through it? Arno, you little wimp, there's nothing to it. I have more trouble summoning Master Thrulia's cat to sit on my lap!"

Lenda laughed at that, tossing her long black hair, then quickly tried to cover it up. But she shared a private look with Draz -- handsome, confident Draz -- that seemed to mock Arno and his incompetence.

He didn't stay long. He never had many friends among the apprentices, not real ones anyway. The others tolerated him and he tried to fit in. But tonight he knew that he never would. All his hopes and dreams -- most of them involving Lenda and her full red lips -- seemed a lifetime away.

He wasn't incompetent. He knew it. He'd mastered the use of potions, and protective spells came naturally. He could scry with confidence -- within the parameters set by the Guild, of course, and the even stricter rules of his Master. He'd enchanted items and crafted the lines of scrolls, and once even etched a powerful rune into a blade for a minor noble.

Long ago, he'd tried to lie about summoning an imp. "Of course!" he bluffed. "Master Gace took me to the Circle of Power and let me speak the incantation for him."

But the other apprentices didn't buy his bluff. "You can see it in the eyes," Kismon said scornfully. "Conversing with Pandemonium, it changes you. It's plain to anyone else who's done it. You haven't."

That, of course, was when the teasing first began. Kismon and Draz were the worst, but nearly all the apprentices made the occasional dig. Usually to deflect Draz's sneers away from themselves.

Arno knew he could do it. Only Master Gace never let him show what he could do! If only he had the chance, he'd prove to everyone that he could summon an imp -- summon a more powerful demon, even! That would show Draz, and Lenda would turn her dark eyes away from the other apprentice's handsome face and see Arno for the skilled sorcerer he knew he could be, and she'd smile and hold out her hand, full of apology and regret for how she'd treated him, and he'd take her hand and tell her all was forgiven, for the price of just a kiss...

It was a pleasant fantasy, and it sustained him through the lights and noise and dancing of the street festivities on his way back to Master Gace's tower. Arno might live there, but it was not his place, never his home. Its usual coldness was amplified by silence when he returned and closed the heavy door behind him. It wasn't the first time Master Gace had left him alone, but somehow the place felt emptier than ever before. The bright celebrations outside seemed to cast darker shadows in the corners.

As Arno stood in the hall, wondering how to spend this dismal evening, Master Gace's disembodied voice boomed out. A minor charm, ready to release when Arno returned to the tower, and hatefully at odds with the sorcerer's spindly body, wispy beard and thin voice. "Welcome back, boy. I hope your revelry has not left you excessively incapacitated. When I return after the ceremony, I expect the workshop to be spotless and all your lessons to be in your head. I will test you, boy, and I will not accept any excuses!"

No, Arno thought glumly as the voice fell silent. Master Gace never accepted excuses. He'd inspect the workshop meticulously, and then question Arno for an hour.

Well, tonight was no night for learning lessons. Arno had drunk only two cups of honeywine, but in his present mood he knew it would be a waste of time. Might as well do the workshop now, study his lessons tomorrow and perhaps snatch a few hours' free time before Master Gace returned.

The workshop was the same mess as it always was after Master Gace spent any amount of time there. Tomes were scattered on the tables, broken vials tossed in the corners, so many rags and parchments flung on the floor, with smears of silver sand and white powders covering the Circle of Power -- ten paces across, with lines and patterns carved into the rock on which the tower was built.

Tidying was mindless work. Just what he needed now. Something to tire his body without requiring his mind to focus. Sweep up the broken glass, wipe the stains and smears left by their contents. Gather the books, straighten their pages, read the new notes Master Gace had added. Then return the books to their places on the shelves and dust all the tomes.

The last job was always to take the broom and sweep the floor. Gather up as much of the powder and silver sand as he could and place the sweepings in the bins for purifying. Master Gace had a spell that would separate the sands and powders in a heartbeat. Go over the floor again and make sure that the Circle was unmarked by even the tiniest smudge or stain.

All this time the scene on the library's steps played over and over in his mind. Arno can't even summon an imp! The look Lenda gave him, and the one she reserved for Draz. Arno can't even summon an imp!

"I can!" He started at the sound of his own voice in the tower's silence. He hadn't meant to speak aloud. Trembling slightly, he finished the sweeping and returned the broom to its place against the wall.

Summoning an imp was nothing. Anybody could do it. Even if Arno hadn't actually spoken the incantation, he knew it by heart. And the tome was right there, on the shelf where he'd just placed it, with its binding polished and oiled.

Would Lenda be impressed if he proclaimed that he'd summoned an imp? He could picture that sympathetic smile of hers, and her hidden smile as Draz mocked him for boasting about such a small accomplishment.

A wild thought took hold of him. What if...?

He didn't dare finish it. No, it was beyond contemplating. It was too dangerous, it was infinitely more dangerous than anything any of the other apprentices had ever done.

A demon of a deeper order?

No! It was too dangerous, the pressures on his mind during casting, the risks if the demon broke free from the Circle...

But that was impossible. The Circle of Power was etched into the stone floor. It was as safe as houses, as if the demon was still in its own layer of Pandemonium. As long as the dust was swept clear of the lines, as long as the candles were in the right pentagrams, as long as he himself didn't step inside...

Could he do it? His eyes fell on the Book of Summoning. The great tome that contained all of Master Gace's spells and incantations for the calling of creatures from beyond this world. All his observations, his thoughts, his experiences. Arno had studied every page in its binding. He could recite it by heart -- well, perhaps not that, but he was familiar with everything it said.

An imp was a demon of the first order. Close to the boundary between this world and Pandemonium. Simple to summon here, simple to control. No real power in them.

Next were lemures, cambions and succubi. Then the various Keepers of the Gates, Holders of the Keys, Seekers of Lies and Tellers of Truth. And then there were the Demon Princes, named Demons, beings so powerful that even Master Gace's Circle would melt in the stone it was carved into. Arno shuddered at the thought.

But a lemure...? A lemure was little more than an imp with an extra pair of arms, and a cambion only the tiniest bit worse. A succubus was a step up, of course, and far beyond the abilities of a mere apprentice.

Unless...

Lenda wouldn't be smiling in that pitying way if he summoned a succubus. Draz would lose that smug smile. The other apprentices would look at him with respect for a change. He'd be someone -- the apprentice who summoned a succubus!

"A succubus." Saying the word out loud, in the silence of the workshop, made it feel very real. But it also made him feel bold. He'd said the word. He was contemplating it. Could he...?

He could, he decided. There was the Book of Summoning. There was the Circle of Power. There were the candles and the bars and the dusts, and the ritual daggers for afterwards, for severing the bonds. He could read the words, he'd heard Master Gace speak them more than once.

But did he dare? That was the only question. There were no real risks, of course. Safe as houses. And the rewards --?

The respect of his peers. Humility from Draz. Lenda's admiration -- and from there her love!

Arno could almost see it. Those dark eyes full of adoration, a hand resting on his arm, full lips turned towards his. Please, Arno, she'd say, let me be your succubus tonight...

A familiar heat surged through his body at the thought. It wasn't the first time he'd imagined Lenda as a lover, seducing him with her fingers and her red lips. He pictured her stroking his chest, kissing his neck, perhaps reaching further down and... and...

Well, that was where his imagination failed. Life as a sorcerer's apprentice didn't offer much room for finding out about the pleasures of the flesh. Particularly not if you didn't fit in, if the other apprentices laughed at you, if the Guild's rules prohibited scrying on ladies in their private moments. And if your Master didn't give you coin enough to afford a visit to the House of Flowers. A bit of rubbing at his cock with half-formed images was as far as he'd ever got.

But a succubus might show him! He'd never cross into the Circle, of course, so he could only listen to what the demon might tell him. But that was better than nothing, and when Lenda recognised his skill as a sorcerer he'd amaze her with his skill as a lover too!

And the risks? Compared with all that, the risks were nothing. Master Gace would be gone the whole night and much of tomorrow, so he'd never know. Arno was alone in the tower, with all the implements of sorcery. With everything he needed to turn his life around. Gain respect and win his love.

All he had to do was summon a succubus.

And with that his mind was made up. He told himself that he could still stop, but in truth his body was already moving and he didn't want it not to. It was like watching his hands and feet do things beyond his control, as a disinterested and dispassionate observer.

First he placed candles around the Circle of Power. Five candles, short and thick and with wicks that were steeped in oil from Pandemonium itself. They went in the five pentagrams that stood on the Circle's edge.

Next were the silver dishes with bars of metal. Not very large bars -- as long as his little finger only -- but full of symbolic power. Gold and silver, of course, and copper and lead. The fifth was a metal that Arno didn't know, of a dull dark green, and heavier than the gold and lead together. Master Gace never answered when he asked what it was. It was a Secret of the Guild.

Five dishes, five metal bars, each with its own place just inside the Circle's rim. Spaced evenly between the candles, with the bars standing upright.

Then came the trickiest part. The silver sand. It had to be trickled along the lines cut into the stone, but only the lines for summoning a succubus. Arno consulted the Book of Summoning and found the right pattern. Then he checked it again before taking a fresh flask of sand from its shelf and pouring out a steady stream along the lines.

When he was done, his hands were trembling. No, his arms -- his entire body was shaking! Sweat stuck to his forehead, and he wiped it away before it ran into his eyes. He went upstairs to the kitchen for a cup of water and to catch his breath.

As he drank, he wondered about stopping. Putting away the candles and the plates and the bars, sweeping up the silver sand and pouring it into the bin with the rest of the sand and the white dust. Closing the great Book of Summoning and returning it to its shelf, giving it a wipe so that all was as if nothing had happened.

But he didn't want to, he realised. The work was all done -- one more look at the Book to make sure the pattern was done properly -- and the next step was the actual summoning.

An actual summoning!

The trembling he felt in his legs as he made his way back down to the workshop was excitement. He was going to do it! He was going to summon a demon from Pandemonium, and converse with it so that the trace would be visible in his eyes and all the other apprentices would know.

And not only that, a succubus! There were engravings in some of Master Gace's books, and they were enough to make Arno sweat and lie awake at night, imagining all manner of things that his body wanted to tell him but his mind couldn't quite grasp.

Just remembering now was enough to make him stop and take a deep breath. And another. There, that was better. Time to check the sands, light the candles, speak the words. Don't think too much about it.

His voice sounded small in the workshop, as if the room had vanished and he was standing inside a huge cavern. It was only in his own mind, he told himself. He was simply overawed by the enormity of what he was doing.

Speak the words, set aside the Book, release the forces building in his mind and --

The air inside the Circle of Power shimmered, like the summer's heat over the city.

Gulp!

He'd seen it before, of course, when Master Gace performed summonings. And once on Berrin Square, that time a Demon Prince manifested and there were people screaming and running everywhere and it took seventeen Masters of the Guild to send it back to Pandemonium.

Arno felt his stomach clench and forced it to relax. The Circle was safe, he knew that, and the ritual was secure. He'd checked the instructions, checked his work, and compared it all with memories of Master Gace going through the summoning. It was all correct, yet still he was nervous.

One of the candles flickered and his breath caught. It couldn't go out, of course. While the spell lasted, the flames burned with the power of Pandemonium. This was just the demon testing its boundaries. Pushing against the door before entering.

At that precise moment the air burst into flames -- red and black, the fire of Pandemonium, in a column six feet tall. Arno held his breath. Around him and behind, the workshop grew darker, as if the flames were sucking in what little light there was.

A form took shape within the fire, or perhaps the fire took on physical form. Legs, a torso, arms, neck and head. Tall and graceful, but filling out with curves and... other bits that Arno had only seen in those engravings, and in his dreams.

Then it stood before him. The fire didn't dim, or disappear. It was suddenly a woman, or something that looked like a woman. A naked woman, with slim ankles, plump thighs, a narrow waist... Skin pale, but with a dark glow from within, and hair that spilled across her shoulders and fell like red gold all the way to a pair of firm buttocks.

Flames cupped her breasts like hands, and licked up from between her legs to obscure her -- her womanhood. Obscure it, but tantalisingly. As if Arno might spy her secrets if only he looked closely enough.

When he dragged his eyes up to her face, he found tawny eyes looking at him, a sardonic smile on bright red lips. Brighter than Lenda's. Redder. He swallowed, worked his mouth, found his mind empty of words.

"You summoned me?"

The voice was fire and velvet, desire and loathing and fear and ecstasy. It seemed to pass from the demon's lips to his ears without touching the space in between. It tickled at his neck and crawled down his spine like a fingertip, teasing, promising... and stopping halfway.

Arno gulped again. "I --" he managed.

"Yes?" The succubus's eyes had sparks deep inside. They travelled down his frame -- taking in his pale blue apprentice's robe and his gangly form -- and back up to his face. Arno wasn't sure what the final tally was, but he knew he fell short. "What is your bidding?" With deliberate mockery she added, "Master?"

"I... I..." He realised that he hadn't actually thought about what would happen with the succubus actually here. There was the summoning, and the triumphant return to the apprentices' gathering tomorrow, but he had no idea of what would happen in between. "What can you do?"

"For you?" The question was a breathless promise of passion. "Whatever you want." Somehow her hips shifted to imply that she'd do whatever he desired. "Come here, and I will show you."

This time her voice tickled all the way down his back, between his cheeks and into the special place between his legs. He was hard, he realised, as hard as if he was in the cot in his small bedchamber halfway up the tower, rubbing himself beneath the blankets with vague visions of Lenda filling his waking dreams.

"Ah," the voice purred in his ears, "you have someone in mind." And in an instant the voluptuous figure changed into a slimmer form, smaller, with black hair. The eyes were dark now, instead of tawny, but there were still sparks in them. And the body was still naked, with only the flames at her breasts and between her legs.

"Lenda!" Arno breathed. He'd pictured her like this so many times -- without the flames, of course -- pictured her standing before him, holding out her hands, turning those lips towards him to be kissed... And not much else. His notions about what went on between men and women were abstract and muddled. Even the engravings in the books didn't show much of that.

"You like her." The demon twisted from side to side. "Of course, I cannot show you exactly what she looks like. This image is only drawn from your memory. No, not memory. Your imagination." She laughed, the laugh that Arno knew so well. "But perhaps we can see her together."

"What do you mean?" His heart was thumping in his chest. It was all of it: the thrill of successfully summoning the succubus, of disobeying his Master, of seeing the succubus and then Lenda... And now the demon was hinting at more.

The succubus -- in her own form once more -- turned and, with one finger, drew a wide circle in the air. Arno had time to notice that the fingernail was almost a claw before the circle turned silver, then dissolved into an image.

It was Lenda. Her hands were at the clasp of her pale blue robe, unfastening it. She seemed to be inside. Alone as well.

"We have caught her at just the right time." Even though the succubus was fifteen feet away, it was as if she was whispering in his ear.

"How, though?" His magecraft came to the fore. "It's impossible to scry her. Not in her Master's tower!"

"But who says this is scrying?" The succubus gave a soft chuckle. "The magic of Pandemonium does not obey mortal rules."

Doubt and questions assailed Arno's mind, but before him in the air Lenda was shrugging out of her robe. Beneath it she wore a long cream shirt over a pair of matching woollen leggings. Hanging her robe on a hook that was just out of sight, she turned to a basin and splashed water on her face.

"She is pretty."

Arno gave a start. His mouth was hanging open, he realised, and he quickly shut it. He'd almost forgotten about the succubus. She was watching him, eyes sly, fingers idly stroking her naked thighs.

"Yes," he breathed. "She's beautiful."

"So why are you not with her?" the succubus whispered. "On a feast night, why are you summoning a succubus when you could be with such a beauty?"

"Because... because..." Arno stammered, swallowed, began again. "Because I can't be with her. She wouldn't want me there."

"Aah," the succubus whispered. "Then perhaps I should not be showing you this."

"N--no." He felt sweat trickle from his temple, down his cheek and onto his chin. He couldn't move, though, couldn't even raise a hand to wipe it away. Still as a statue, his gaze fixed, he stared at the vision the demon had conjured up. Lenda had dried her hands and was starting to unfasten the wooden buttons of her shirt. "No, you shouldn't."

"Good." The vision winked out. "I am pleased that you can withstand temptation."

Arno found himself taking a step forward, one hand raised, mouth open to protest. It was wrong to be spying on Lenda, so wrong, of course it was wrong!

Still, for a moment there he hadn't cared. All he wanted was to see her disrobe, reveal her body to his starving gaze. The form that had been revealed, even clad in her undergarments, was etched in his mind already. He wondered whether he'd take pride, in years to come, in agreeing with the demon, or whether he'd hate himself.

Both, perhaps. But he suspected he'd hate himself forever.

The succubus was watching him, he realised. That smirk was on her lips again. "I am sorry," she said without a hint of any regret in her voice. "Did you want to keep watching?"

Yes! he wanted to scream. Show me Lenda again, show her undressing, and... and... whatever it is naked women do.

"You... you do not know."

The succubus's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. She sounded surprised, faintly, and... perhaps intrigued? It was hard to tell.

He tried to stammer a reply, to bluff his way through, but he could feel his cheeks flaming. All the blood that had surged into his groin earlier was rushing to his face now.

Besides, it seemed that the demon could read his thoughts. Some of them, at least. Or perhaps they were just written plain on his face.

"Would you like to see?"

For a moment he thought she was referring to Lenda again, and he was confused about what she'd show him now. But the succubus was moving now, hands on her thighs, swaying with a motion that was almost hypnotic, like the flame-serpent that Master Gace kept to hunt the vermin in the attic. He found his head following her movements.

"Would you like to see?" she said again. Her voice was like warm honeywine, sweet and smooth and trickling into every part of his body.

He nodded. His mouth was open again. He closed it, then opened it. "Y--you can't tempt me into the Circle."

Her lips curled into a smile. "You say that now. But fear not, little apprentice," she continued as he gulped and stammered, "I doubt you could add anything to the experience. Not until I show you what to do."

Arno could only nod. Shame pounded in his chest, in his ears. To be dismissed as not even worth tempting -- it hurt, it hurt almost as much as the taunting from the other apprentices.

At the same time he felt relief as well. He wouldn't be tempted, and no matter his resolve he felt a twitching in his fingers, as if they were eager to reach out and touch the hot flesh, stroke it, grasp it. And he wouldn't be forced to reveal his inexperience.

The succubus moved, interrupting his jumbled thoughts. Again her hand traced a window in the air, one that shimmered with the black flames of Pandemonium. "Sit, little apprentice. Sit, while I call some help."

Help? He glanced at the Circle of Power, at the candles with their steady flames, the metal rods and the silver dust. Would they be strong enough...?

She gave a throaty laugh. "Rest easy, my little one. A few imps, nothing more. Your Circle will hold true."

He nodded again, cast around vaguely for the stool he knew stood behind him, beside his Master's table. "Why do you need imps?" His voice rasped in his throat, and he swallowed again.

"Because," and she reached into the flaming ring, "an imp can be shaped. I like them to be little more than a cock on legs." She pulled out first one, then two more squirming grey figures. "And a long tongue," she added as the window shrank and disappeared.

Arno stared. Imps! But not imps like Master Gace ever summoned. These were squat, no more than two feet tall, with bowed legs and short arms that ended in large hands. Their heads were broad and hairless, and their flat faces were dominated by thick, leering lips.

The most prominent feature on each, though, was a large cock, seemingly almost half as long as the creature itself. One was already hard, from where the succubus had grasped it to pull it through the ring. The other two were swollen, but still swung between the imps' legs like heavy pendulums.

"Meet Slig, Plog and Cleg," the succubus announced, gesturing at the three forms. Slig, the one with the hard cock, was the largest. Plog had a longer nose than the others, and Cleg had a tuft of greasy white hair growing out of his forehead. "Say hello, boys."

The imps didn't even look at Arno. Slig's hand was on his cock, stroking it rhythmically. That at least was something that Arno didn't need any instruction about.

Plog and Cleg surged around the succubus. "Sweet Fiyenna," Cleg whispered, groping at her thigh. "Sweet mistress," Plog added, leaning down and sticking out a long tongue to lick at the succubus's toes.

"Fiyenna?" Arno asked. "Is that your name?"

The succubus laughed. She reached down and stroked Cleg's head. "It is what you may call me."

He nodded wordlessly. He couldn't imagine ever calling her by any name.

Slig had clamped onto Fiyenna's leg and was trying to climb up it. His cock was pressed against her skin and seemed to be getting in the way.

"Easy," she murmured, as if talking to an overexcited puppy. "You cannot fly in this world." She plucked him off her leg and sank to her knees. "Here, this is much better."

The hard cock was now before her face. Slig thrust forward, and the succubus opened her mouth. The imp grasped her hair and pulled her towards him. The long, thick shaft vanished between her lips.

The other imps scurried around her, sniffing at her, flicking out with their tongues to touch her here and there. Fiyenna ignored them. She seemed to be fully absorbed with the cock in her mouth. She had one hand on the floor, the other grasping at Slig's arse. Her sharp nails dug into his skin. A trickle of something black crawled down his leg.

Arno's cock was throbbing inside his robe. He could almost imagine it was him, thrusting in and out of those red lips, fingers crawling through that red hair, feeling her tongue... do things. He didn't know what, but he imagined it would be better than his own hand. So much better!

The other imps didn't seem to mind tugging at their shafts, though. Plog was still sucking at Fiyenna's toes, but Cleg was licking her leg, jumping as he did it. In the end he let go of his cock and caught the succubus around her waist. With a look of triumph he pulled himself up until he was on her back, looking down at her arse.

Then he lay flat on his stomach and began to lick her. His tongue ran along the cleft between her buttocks, then down until it found her hole. He didn't quite touch her there, though. He teased the area around it, making circles that grew smaller and wider.

Fiyenna was visibly enjoying it. She squirmed, and a new look appeared on her face -- one of distracted pleasure as she still sucked on Slig's cock.

Plog gave up on her toes and crawled behind her. His face went up between her legs and he inhaled deeply. "Sweet Fiyenna," he whispered, "so sweet, so sweet." His lips pursed, and he kissed her where her legs met. The flames didn't seem to hurt him -- in fact they parted, then disappeared as he kissed her again, then began to lick and suck. Cleg's tongue had found her hole too, and he lapped at it with an eager expression.

The succubus was moaning into Slig's cock by now. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her hands clenched -- one on the stone inside the Circle, one on the imp's arse. Her moans became grunts, then short, frantic gasps and she bucked, shivered, and then froze, shook and froze again, before relaxing and opening her eyes.

She pulled back from Slig and looked at Arno. The sparks in her tawny eyes gleamed brighter than before. "Did you enjoy watching that? Did you take pleasure from seeing my pleasure?" Her voice was a deep whisper, and her chest heaved as if she'd been running. "Show me how you enjoyed it!"

It was clear what she meant. Her gaze fell to his cock. Feeling somewhat embarrassed - I'm not nearly as big as the imps! -- he reached into his robe and pulled it from his hose. Whether it was large or not didn't seem to matter to the succubus. She eyed it with desire. "Stroke it. Stroke it for me!"

Arno was happy to obey. He felt the heat of his shaft against his palm and gave a tug. "I -- I think I might..."

"Make it last," she whispered. "If you want to watch, you must make it last. When you come, I go."

"No!" The idea of missing anything stabbed at his guts. "No! I'll make it last. Please, don't go just yet!"

"Not yet, not yet," murmured the imps. Slig poked his shaft forward, still shiny from Fiyenna's mouth. Plog crawled underneath her, his cock pointing upwards between her legs. "Not yet, not yet!" Cleg climbed from her back and began to shove Slig aside. "Not yet!"

"Not yet, my sweet ones," she murmured reassuringly. "Is that right, little apprentice?"

Arno nodded. His hand was still on his cock, barely stroking it with the lightest touch.

"Good. Now we can continue." In moments she had the imps positioned where she wanted them. Plog was underneath her, his face between the flames cupping her breasts, and she pressed herself onto his shaft. Her eyes went wide as he entered her, then closed as she sank further and further down. Slig moved behind her and pressed his swollen head against her arse. Arno watched in mute wonder while the imp forced himself into him and she pressed back, eyes still closed. But her lips parted, and she waved a hand until she found Cleg and guided him to her mouth.

Arno looked on, entranced, jealous, aroused beyond anything he'd ever known. I'm learning! he told himself. When Lenda falls in love with me, I'll know how to please her like a lover should.

It wasn't like he'd imagined it would be. It seemed as if the imps were using Fiyenna as an object for their lust. Their thick fingers clutched at her -- Slig's feet even left the ground and he wrapped his legs around her waist. Cleg yanked at her hair as he thrust into her face. Plog sucked and bit at her breasts.

But Fiyenna was using them as much as they were using her. She pushed back onto the shafts pressed into her. Her face was a mask of bliss and concentration as it was squashed against Cleg's body, and her cheeks and throat worked on his cock.

It was clear that she was working her way to another climax. This time she was an active participant. No, Arno realised, it wasn't participation. It was four beings all focused on their own selfish pleasure who just happened to be deriving it from each other.

The imps were sweating and grunting, eyes squeezed shut and bodies taut with effort. Cleg's greasy white hair stuck to his forehead. The succubus was riding them. All three of them, because the cock in her mouth was stimulating her in a way that Arno couldn't quite grasp -- either physically, or mentally.

Their gasps and moans grew louder. Almost in unison the four of them approached the brink and held there, visibly fighting not to cross over, making small desperate noises, limbs trembling with the effort. Arno watched in fascination, barely daring to touch himself.

If I explode now, will all this end like Fiyenna said? Will they be sent back to Pandemonium, unfinished and unsatisfied? The thought of an angry succubus and three frustrated imps was just about enough to hold him back.

Slig was the first to slip over the edge. He stiffened, thrust against Fiyenna's arse, squeezing his legs tightly around her waist -- and vanished with a silent plop! Next was Cleg, who gave a muted roar and jerked forward with his hips. The succubus worked her lips and opened her mouth. A sticky thread landed on her face as the imp's thick cock exploded before her, and another, and then he too was gone.

But Fiyenna wasn't far behind. She pressed herself down onto Plog, rose one more time, and gave a cry that echoed around the workshop and made the candleflames shiver. The imp beneath her rose up to meet her body, stiffened with a moan that was stifled by her breasts, flapped his hands, and disappeared like the others had.

The sudden silence was broken only by the sounds of the succubus panting and laughing in a low voice. She turned towards Arno and sat on her knees in the middle of the Circle of Power. "You held out. Now you may release." She leaned back, thighs wide apart, and reached down to stroke herself.

The traces of the imps' orgasms melted from her body as dark flames built up around her. Her eyes were fixed on Arno, on his cock, on his hand rubbing up and down along his shaft. Her fingers found her folds and slid between, running along them and then circling the spot where they met. "Come for me, little apprentice," she murmured. "Send me back to Pandemonium."

He could feel flames inside himself too, growing higher with every moment, every tug of his hand. Then the heat flared up, impossible to deny, impossible to hold back, and he fought to keep his eyes open, to see Fiyenna pinch and pull her nipple, watch as she shuddered in another climax, and then it became too much and he exploded, his whole world reduced to the sensations running through his cock and up his spine, the stars bursting before his eyes and the sound of his moans mingling with Fiyenna's to fill the workshop until he realised that he could only hear his own voice, and he forced his eyes open again and saw that he was alone, half off the stool where he'd been sitting, his hand and cock covered with his cream.

===

The following night, Arno turned away from the window of his small chamber and flung himself onto the cot. He'd been here ever since Master Gace returned from the Guildhouse. The older man had taken one look at Arno's eyes and screamed at him so loudly that his wispy beard shook.

"A summoning? How dare you, you stupid boy? I never gave you leave to summon a --" He halted there. "A succubus? A succubus? You fool! What possessed you?"

That was hours ago. The city outside the window was dark, with only a handful of floating magelights chasing away the shadows from the larger streets and squares and shining behind the windows of towers.

And Arno was locked away, and at sunrise he'd be kicked out. Out of the tower, out of High Farleon. Even though his life here had been far from happy -- and at times quite miserable -- it was all he'd known for years. Master Gace had even stripped him of his pale blue apprentice's robe.

Becoming a sorcerer was all he wanted. Without that dream, he had no idea what the future would bring. He'd wander the world, begging for food and shelter in exchange for his small magics. An outcast, pitied and despised until he eventually starved.

And he'd never see Lenda, that was certain. If he did, it would be as he was being marched to the city gates in disgrace. She might be standing on the street, with Draz and Kismon and the others, mocking and contemptuous. The story would soon get out, if it hadn't already. Did you hear about Arno? The little pervert tried to summon a succubus, can you imagine?

"But I did it! I didn't try, I succeeded!" Pride swelled up inside him, mingling with lingering disbelief. I did, didn't I? I didn't dream it? But no, the image of Fiyenna was burned into his memory. Her naked form, her lips wrapped around an imp's cock, her eyes closing as another cock thrust into her arse and a third slid between her folds...

His hand groped at the underhose that was all he wore. Just remembering Fiyenna, and everything he'd seen and heard, was enough to send the blood surging into his cock. He had a much better idea now of what sex was all about, and he couldn't wait to try it for himself. Even though he'd probably not get a chance anymore. At least not with the woman he wanted most.

Lenda. In his mind, Fiyenna's form wavered and was replaced by another, smaller and slender, with dark hair and dark eyes. Eyes that looked up at him adoringly, red lips that parted, a long tongue that slithered out from between them as flames surrounded them both...

And the breasts were plumper, the hips rounder. The hair was golden red, the eyes were tawny, and claw-like fingernails scratched at his chest, tracing lines down to --

"I see you remember me."

Arno gave a cry -- well, a squawk really, perhaps even a squeak. His eyes flew open and his hand shot from his hose. "You... you..." he whispered, clutching for the blanket and drawing it up like a shield. "You..."

Fiyenna was standing before him, in his small chamber. She was as naked as the night before, with flames cupping her breasts and the mound between her legs. Her lips spread in a smile. "Me." She stretched, almost like a cat. "Me, and you."

"But..." That was as far as he got. His mind refused to frame the thoughts needed to send the words to his mouth.

"But how did I get here?" She was standing close enough that he could feel the heat of the flames. This was no illusion, no dream, no erotic fantasy. He could feel her presence. She wasn't safely inside a summoning circle. She was actually in this world. "You summoned me, remember?"

"No!" He swallowed. This was magecraft. He knew magecraft. "Well yes, I did. But I ended the summoning. I sent you back to Pandemonium!" After the succubus disappeared, he'd still gone through all the steps to sever the bond. He cast his mind over the ritual again. He was sure that he hadn't missed any part of it. "I closed the gate!"

"Yes you did. And you did it very well too, little apprentice." Her tone was mocking. Somehow her voice still managed to send shivers running down his spine, though, down between his legs. "But a succubus has other ways into your world." She leaned forward and ran a fingernail across his cheek. "If she wants to come."

"If she..." He swallowed. His eyes were drawn down from her face, to where the flames squeezed her breasts. Further down, further still, to where fire licked up between her thighs. Only now he knew that it was actually licking her. "Wants to come?"

"O-ho, little one! So you understood that, did you?" Her long tongue snaked out and teased at his ear. "I am a succubus, and I always want to come."

Me too! He swallowed, tried not to whimper. "Is -- is that why you're here?" His voice was hoarse.

The succubus straightened up and looked at him. It was a careful, measuring look, as if she was weighing him. "No. Not only that. I want more from you." The flames around her seemed to heat up as her mouth spread in a smile. "I want your life."

"Eeek!" This time it was an undeniable squeak. Arno pushed himself back into his cot. It wasn't a friendly smile. For the first time he recalled the stories about what a succubus could do to her victims. What was left of them when she was done. "My -- uuhhh..."

She fixed him with her gaze, the flames licking higher around her -- and then she threw back her head. "Oh, my little apprentice! I do not wish to kill you." She laughed again, and leaned forward to stroke his cheek. "I am inviting you to become my companion."

Arno stared up at her. His heart was pounding in his chest. The world seemed frozen, as his mind tried to work out whether or not she was going to kill him.

The tawny eyes looked back with amusement. "Come with me, and I will teach you what you would never learn in this tower."

Arno blinked. Teach me? In his mind, images of Master Gace droning on and on became confused with recollections of Fiyenna on her knees, with an imp's cock in her mouth. He blinked again. "I --"

"You do not understand. It is simple, though. You have talent, and an understanding of sorcery. But you are not yet set in the ways of mortal magic. You have not yet paid the cost." She stroked his cheek again. "I can teach you the powers of Pandemonium. Would you like that, little apprentice?"

He felt his eyes go wide. Since she'd appeared here in his small chamber -- no, since she'd appeared in the Circle of Power -- he'd felt as if he was losing control. It was his decision to summon her -- wasn't it? -- but everything after that was decided by someone else. Fiyenna, and Master Gace. Maybe even the three imps -- they'd at least seemed to choose where to put their cocks.

And once he was kicked out of High Farleon, with no Master to complete his training, he'd always be a failure. A small town without a proper sorcerer from the Guild would tolerate him, but everybody would know. Sooner or later the story would emerge, and scandal would hound him away.

But with the powers of Pandemonium...? "What are those powers?" He hesitated, then added, "What cost?"

The succubus gave a low laugh. "Mortal magic comes with a cost. Why do you think the Masters build such high towers?" When he only shook his head in a silent question, she laughed again. "A tower is all that a sorcerer can erect. The magic leeches other energies from the blood."

For a long moment he tried to understand. Then realisation hit. "You mean... you mean...?" And he gestured at his underhose. His cock was hard again, he noticed. Or maybe it was still hard. It was difficult to imagine it ever not being hard with Fiyenna and her breasts so close, her fingers touching him, the scent of her body and the flames of Pandemonium on the air that he breathed.

"They do not tell you that, do they?" She reached out a hand and ran a fingernail up and down the outline of his cock. "Mortal magic makes the blood thin. They say it is because they are concerned with loftier thoughts, or that they must take care who inherits their gifts. But it is the magic. Your Master Gace has traded his manhood for magic. If you stayed with him, that would be the price for you as well."

What? With his cock trembling and hot against his body, Arno couldn't imagine what a life would be like without it. "Is that why they're always so angry?"

The succubus gave a laugh of what sounded like real amusement. "I suppose it must be. I would be angry if I had to give up the pleasures of the flesh."

He found himself grinning back. "Me too."

"But if you stay with me, little one, I will teach you magics that make your blood boil. Your blood, and the blood of those you desire." Her tongue reached out to flick his ear again. This time it lingered until Arno's spine tingled. "Shall I show you some of it?"

Before he could answer, she was pulling him to his feet. "Undress, unless you wish me to tear your garments from you."

In what felt like a heartbeat, and a lifetime, the worn woollen underhose lay discarded in the corner. He stood naked before Fiyenna.

If she was impressed, she didn't show it. "Watch," she said, and drew a silver circle in the air with her finger. It shimmered before resolving into an image. A dark bedchamber much like his own, with a cot like his too, lit only by the glow from Fiyenna's magic.

And on the cot lay Lenda. Asleep. Eyes closed, breath even and slow. A blanket covered her, all except for one foot.

"Watch!" the succubus said again. And she knelt before Arno and took his cock in her hand. "The longer you last, the more you will see." And her mouth opened wide to cover his shaft.

"Eeeep!" he gasped. She was sucking him! Sensations rippled through his body. Nothing he'd ever imagined came even close to this feeling -- the heat of her mouth, the pursing of her lips, the teasing of her long tongue. Her hands resting lightly on his hard shaft. The tickle of her hair as it brushed his legs. The strange feeling of her flames touching him.

And the idea -- just the idea that this gorgeous woman -- demon -- was pleasuring him! It was enough -- almost enough to... to...

Then movement in the silver circle caught his eye. It was Lenda, stirring in her sleep. Licking her lips. Pursing them. She stirred again. Her bare foot twitched as she moved her legs. Her mouth opened and her tongue appeared. It was as if she was licking the air.

"Is she...?" he breathed. He hardly dared to believe it.

"She is." It was Fiyenna's voice in his ear, as loud and clear as if her mouth wasn't full of his cock. "She dreams of you. She dreams that she is here, in my place. Watch how it excites her."

Arno was ready to explode. The slightest tug or squeeze would set him off. But Fiyenna's tongue kept him right at the brink without letting him slip over. And so he saw how Lenda began to kick restlessly in her cot. A hand came up to her cheek and her fingers dragged over the skin, pulling her lips down. Soft moans reached his ears. Soft, but full of yearning.

Her other hand clutched at the blanket. Twisted the material, bunched it up around her waist. Her feet and legs came into view, her knees and a nightdress. Then she dragged the cover to the side and dropped it onto the floor.

The hand at her cheek slid down across her neck and up the soft mounds under her garment. Another moan came across the distance between them as she pressed down and squeezed. Her other hand was gliding up the inside of her thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. Her mouth and lips still worked. A drop of sweat formed on her temple and dampened her hair.

Then her fingers reached under the hem of her nightdress and her hips swivelled as if to meet them. She rubbed -- he couldn't see exactly, but he could imagine it. And even so it was deeply arousing. He remembered how the succubus had stroked herself, how her fingers had slid over her folds. The hand at Lenda's breast rose to her face again and she sucked her forefinger into her mouth. In and out it went, matching the motions of her other hand as it rubbed.

He became aware that Fiyenna was letting a spark build inside him. Slowly, expertly, moving at the same pace as Lenda's fingers, she guided him closer, closer, just as Lenda built towards her own climax. The darkhaired girl was bucking against her hand, eyes still tight shut, another finger joining the first in her mouth, and she was moving faster and faster, and Fiyenna's tongue swirled and her lips sucked, and then Lenda stiffened, jerked, pressed her head back into her pillow and cried out, and the hot hand around his shaft tugged and he exploded, and the world disappeared in silver light and jolts of pleasure that shot through him, bursting out from his cock into the succubus's mouth, and trying to escape through his skin, his toes, his fingers, his eyes, bursting again and again until he stood trembling, weak and drained and the world returned but his eyes were closed and all he knew was hot lips and a long tongue lapping and kissing at his cock, and a soft, pleased humming.

He collapsed onto the cot. The wool of his blanket tickled at his naked arse and legs, but it was nothing compared with the pleasure of Fiyenna's mouth. She was still on her knees before him, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as dark flames squeezed and stroked her breasts. The look in her eyes was triumphant.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked. She glanced over her shoulder at where the silver circle still hung. It was clear that she meant the vision he'd seen, as well as her sucking him.

He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. On her cot, Lenda had stopped writhing. Her eyes opened, wide and confused, and her fingers slipped from her mouth. She groped around until she found the blanket where it lay beside her on the floor, and drew it back over herself. The hand that had been between her legs pulled the material up, and she paused and sniffed. Then she sucked those fingers into her mouth, cleaning forefinger and middle fingers one by one with her tongue.

When she was done, she turned onto her side, fluffed her pillow, and closed her eyes. As her breathing became regular, the silver circle vanished, and Arno was alone with Fiyenna once again.

He looked at her. Was there more to come? He felt himself twitch at the thought. He was drained and his arms and legs still trembled. But he knew he wouldn't have any difficulty becoming hard again. There was so much he wanted to do to her, so much he wanted to explore! Part of him felt guilty towards Lenda, although he couldn't figure out why.

But Fiyenna rose. "Now, my little apprentice," she said, "shall we depart?"

Disappointment sank into his stomach, but then he gestured at the door. "It's locked. Master Gace has bound it with magic." Reaching out, he ran a hand up her leg. "We'll have to --"

Her fingers seized his. "I will teach you your first spell." Flames rippled around their hands, shimmering with shadow and power. "Show me that you can master it, and you will have your reward."

An hour later they were on the road. Cries of alarm followed them on the night air. Above High Farleon the black sky glowed red as Master Gace's tower, Arno's home for three years, was consumed by fire.