Subjugation of Salma

The Summoning - 1

by Sabrina Jaye (⬡-#4506)

Tags: #cw:noncon #bondage #D/s #dom:female #exhibitionism #f/f #sub:female #chastity #demon #drones #fantasy #mindbreak #sadomasochism #succubus #urban_fantasy

To My Kind Editor,

I find myself writing to you scouting on location, hiding in the Rose Garden of the mansion grounds of one “The Mistress”. I have reason to believe she is some kind of hypnotist, and is responsible for the strange temporary disappearances of many prominent (and not so prominent) people over recent weeks. She may be behind some of the permanent disappearances as well.

If my associates could be trusted, then this volume should have reached you safely. It is the result of extensive investigative work and several nights of crying myself to sleep. Both of the events I’ve documented pertain to rumours of appearances of a certain demonic figure it has been claimed The Mistress has control over.

Worryingly, I have found myself drifting off in this hiding place and forgetting what I was doing several times. I don’t believe my investigative work has been noticed, but must face the possibility I am experiencing more than simple tiredness. I dare not think about what happens to those she catches meddling in her affairs. It is also possible that knowing of The Mistress is in and of itself a memetic hazard. If either of these is true, then I don’t know how much time I have. But no matter what happens to me I trust you will ensure this sees the public eye. Unless this work is also now itself a memetic hazard, in which case, you should probably do the exact opposite.

With all due respect,

Sabrina Jaye Ward

The Mistress closed her eyes in concentration.

Focus.

What she was about to do was risky, there was little room for error.

She took a deep breath in.

And out. Eyes open.

“Query. Concern. Is everything alright, Mistress?”

The Mistress didn’t reply. Such an outburst. Such an independently thought up question from her drone, might normally earn a frown, and the threat of reprogramming. Then again, how much thought did it take to ask really? On the cusp of such a momentous undertaking, it was obvious that she might be in her own head. Even a drone would see that.

The Mistress had to admit, this drone had done a wonderful job enforcing her will. It eagerly instructed the relevant slaves about their respective tasks. Each playing an unknowing part in this greater whole. All monitored and coordinated by the drone for Mistress. Only the Mistress and drone understood the gravity of the situation, and once her will was done, only Mistress would.

The drone knew this. It knew its mind would be erased in a blind flash of pleasure. It would feel some otherworldly hands slide between its thighs, move over its body, puppet it, pose it, pleasure it. The hands would make it forget. It would only know that it had pleased the Mistress. It knew it would become completely empty, ready to be filled with her will, ready to please her once more. The drone knew all this would happen. There was no question. Unlike people, drones have no reservations, no doubts, only blind certainty in its work. Blind certainty in Mistress. Anyone reading the drone’s process logs would think the drone was looking forward to the ecstasy of the wipe...

> 109 :: Error :: Drone is flustered 

They would be right.

Mistress was walking the circumference of the summoning circle now. Inspecting the lines, the sigils, the geometry.

“Drone is confident in its research? We correctly understand, yes? Everything is exactly how it must be?”

“Affirmative Mistress.” Its featureless helmet tilted down to look at the circle as Mistress continued to pace around it.

“There is no error in the geometry. Everything is prepared. You are prepared.”

The Mistress looked at the drone for a long second. The drone shifted slightly. My my, she thought, not flustered are we drone?

“Its research is not wrong, Mistress.” The drone spoke again.

“That is your will.”

The Mistress relaxed a little. Her obedient tool was correct, she was sure, she’d checked it all herself: All the writings on demonology. All of the accounts of succubi, incubi, the source of their power. She went over it again in her mind, and what it led her to conclude: That the popular depictions of such horrors were wrong. It was wrong that succubi could control and inflame the lustful hearts of mortals. An easy conclusion to draw, but wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Succubi didn’t implant or control lustful desire. What people experience is a connection between the demoness and themselves. An agonising escalating cycle of lust flowing back and forth between predator and victim. Bidirectional. Exploitable. If the Mistress was right, the demon is open. Vulnerable.

The Mistress had always liked the idea of adding a succubus to her collection of obedient toys. Truly, a precious and difficult trophy to earn indeed. To have bound up, set free only to make her will a reality. Hellish need turned inward on itself, its own pleasure and punishment indistinguishable. The Mistress got slightly wet at the thought, stopping her pacing.

She looked up and walked over to the drone. She affectionately caressed the side of its smooth feature-void head.

It was time to begin the summoning.

“Very good. It’s a very good drone. I am very pleased with my drone.”

It made a small noise and she felt it tremble slightly. She knew underneath that dome, there was a blank transfixed face getting very very red.

“I want my slave to feel this - up up up for me, just a little”

The drone’s muscles tensed and its posture became a little less disciplined. The head darted more erratically, and its breathing got heavier.

“Hello my dear” Mistress grinned wickedly.

“You’ve been so good, so useful to me, how does it feel to know you’ve been a very good drone?”

The drone shuddered and a muffled voice could be heard underneath the helmet. Whatever she said, the helmet denied it, it was not proper dronespeak.

“Remember this feeling,” Mistress commanded.

“And think on how you will best this, how you will convince me - should I decide you deserve the chance - that you’re worth keeping. Because as it stands, I might just keep you drone. Blank. Blissful. Empty. Forever.”

The drone’s legs nearly buckled from the pleasure as the control reasserted itself and the slave dropped back into the smothering programming again.

Fire began to lick forth from the summoning circle, the drone’s ecstasy had activated it, calling across the boundaries of hell, and the call was being answered.

A flash of light, a small maelstrom of hellfire shook the room, and licked away, revealing the figure of a succubus.

The Mistress was pleased, she was truly a creature to behold. She was tall, with long sensuous legs, a prominent, plump and firm backside, perky breasts, and flawless crimson skin. Her skin was decorated, marked with black patterned lines, and hellish symbols. Her clawed hands looked arousing and dangerous, capable of sensuous teasing, and ferocious tearing. Leathery wings flapped twice, and her tail swished behind her. Mistress was perhaps most taken with her face. Long twisted horns protruded from her head, from under black, shiny, waist-length hair. Her wide eyes sat above a cute button nose, irises a bright, brilliant, deep, emerald green. Plump lips, darkened with black lipstick pouted, smiled, and broke into an O shape as she moaned, training her hands up her body. An act of inspection and pleasure, after being bound away from this plane for so long.

The succubus’ bright eyes sparkled as they met the Mistress’ and she smiled, her tail swished. Mistress let out a shuddered breath as she felt the succubus’ big beautiful eyes softened. It had begun, she was suddenly filled with want.

Those eyes~

    Those lips~

    Those legs~

    That hair~

The succubus began to walk, one foot in front of the other, hips swaying. Getting closer. Closer. Closer.

That’s right, I want you, come and get me.

The succubus breathed in, as if savouring the Mistress’ desire. The Mistress almost felt an invisible line, anchored in her chest, impatiently pulling her towards her prize. Want was welling up, drawing the demoness in.

Ohhhh yes, what an exquisite trophy you will make.

The succubus stopped right in front of her.

“Why hello there” her sensual voice chimed. The Mistress quivered as she imagined that voice cracking, breaking, begging, screaming, answering with a servile Yes, Mistress.

“Hello, my darling deviant”, the Mistress cooed back.

“Salma” The succubus purred, introducing herself, before wasting no time caressing the Mistress’ face. Pulling her forward into a deep sensual kiss. Her arousal at the act flowed into the Mistress, and her arousal flowed back into Salma, who shuddered and responded by deepening it. The Mistress became flushed, feeling the agonising cycle start. Salma pulled away, the Mistress whined.

“Want my touch, my love? Want my lips?” Salma teased, she didn’t need the Mistress to confirm. Another turn of the cycle, and the Mistress felt Salma’s overwhelming desire to hold and caress and kiss the body of her new victim. Oh god how the Mistress wanted that. She felt every part of herself go warm and relaxed as she opened up for the demoness, who, sensing the vulnerability, began to tear her clothes off, caressing the Mistress’ body slowly.

Tracing a claw up here, a lick over there, a slight nibble on the neck. Salma gave a satisfied “Mmmmm” and the Mistress came so close to juicing that she squirmed in the succubus’ embrace.

“Good girl” Salma cooed, continuing her onslaught. Her need for contact seeping into the Mistress. Another turn of the cycle and she was responding in kind. She hadn’t realised it at first but her arms had reached out and she was caressing Salma in return now. Practically clinging to her. It felt so good to touch her crimson skin, she felt Salma absorb that need, her sensuous caresses started to get rougher. Every now and then, a grab - a claw, instead of a soft touch. The succubus was keenly feeling a need - a hunger - now, and she needed it to be satiated. Seconds later, the Mistress knew it would slam into her, the agonising exchange ramping up. When it hit her, her eyes rolled back as Salma bit her neck and brought her hand away from the Mistress’ wetness to lick it, shuddering as she savoured it. A small panic manifested in the back of the Mistress’ mind.

Oh god I need her, I want her so much, I can’t hold back I can’t.

More scratching, kissing, biting.

Wa… Was I wrong?

It’s not stopping!

S-she’s going to take me!

I messed up!

I was wrong!

Her heart pounded in her head.

Good I want her to take me.

No!

Yes!

Just the screaming cycle of demonic and mortal desire in her head.

Mmmm~

Sssooo wettt~

No! Focus!

I- I-

She closed her eyes, ready to accept, ready to fall, ready to be broken, to be the demoness’s meal. Taken... Taken? Sexual thoughts entered her mind, but took no hold, and left as fast as they entered. This moment's respite brought clarity to the Mistress, if only for an instant And with it... Serenity.

Slowly, she breathed, it was like the entire air was thick. Filled with a cool static, pushing down on her. She imagined having to push through it the way one pushes their way through a pool of water. She opened her eyes, she saw the succubus, her eyes half-lidded, sweat running in rivers over her skin, her demonic member quivering, hips bucking, hands exploring.

The Mistress realised, she stood as if in the eye of a storm. This static, this stillness, the creature was open, demonic desires for intercourse rushing into her, trying to sweep her away with rapturous need, but-

Oh my dear, darling, desperate, demonic, deviant, I am above such desires.

The Mistress nervously laughed with relief. She had been correct after all. This was it. Now she could attempt to claim her prize.

The thought of that cute demonic face, hers to admire, in every possible degree of blankness and ecstasy. The Mistress shuddered, and that desire wormed its way into the succubus.

A slight look of confusion was on Salma’s half-lidded eyes. She was being driven wild but the mortal was… was... it was getting hard to think, the need was too great. In accordance with Mistress’ fantasy, she was going blank, ecstatically blank. Her hands moved more feverishly, she shuddered to the point of convulsion, she began to moan, confused, dazed, leaking continuously.

It was beginning to work. The Mistress focused, fantasised, sending Salma visions of kneeling before the Mistress. How good, how natural it felt. To be in her rightful place.

The Mistress delighted in seeing the panting and quivering succubus' knees bending, her glassy eyes seeing a reality that wasn't there. And while she caught herself with her hands, her trembling left claw marks on the floor. While she didn't uphold the proper subservient posture the Mistress knew was fascinating her thoughts, both her knees were now flat on the ground.

Salma started to babble something. It was difficult to make out what, but the Mistress knew exactly what she was looking out for. Putting together the whispered distorted sounds, she could make out some of it.

"... your slave ... your will ..."

Torn pieces of a mantra the Mistress knew her prey was seeing herself eagerly chant. Pieces that were now freely flowing out of the barely-moving mouth she had unconsciously given up control of. After a few iterations of it, the Mistress cut off the almost-silent whispers.

"Salma. Who. Am. I?"

"You... are..."

A silence.

Tell. me… speak.

She was trembling, yet otherwise perfectly unmoving. Her pretty face, frozen into the blank expression of someone that is not here, not in this particular reality.

"My...

...

...

... Mistress..."

The Mistress flashed a predatory grin that could frighten even a demon, if this one could've seen it with her transfixed eyes. She was a slave in her own fantasies. A slave to her own fantasies. The Mistress' confidence was now unshakeable, her prey was now on her favored hunting grounds. She would fall, in the exact same way all the others before her did.

The Mistress stepped away, caressing and touching her own body. Salmas eyes went wide and she whined desperately. This pleasured Mistress, which backfired into Salma again.

"You’ve been taking in my desires so fully, listening to their melody, trying to taste the need in them, hoping to taste the need in them, neeeeding to taste the need in them. So focused on the need for physical pleasure, you never stopped to consider what else my desires carry, what I truly crave. My desires flowing into you, overpowering yours. Becoming yours."

Salma moaned, cum dribbling out of her member, as all of Mistress’ intentions, her desire, her want, her will, rushed into her mind and body. One hand massaged a breast as another reached out pathetically towards the mortal.

“Youuurs, Mistress”.

The Mistress grinned.

“Good demoness, good girl, drink deep of my desire until it’s all that echoes in your lust-addled mind.”

Salma shuddered, sighed and said… something. It came out as mindless babble.

The Mistress knelt down to look her prize in the eyes.

"My darling demoness, you know, seeing you… in bonds…”

Salma gasped involuntarily.

“Denied…”

Another gasp.

“Bound to me…

Another. Mistress smiled.

“Desperate to please me…”

Another. Mistress grinned, and caressed Salma’s face.

“It would get me so. Very. Very. Worked. Up. How long can you resist your natural instincts, until you can't help but give in? How long until you shape yourself to my exact desires, in a desperate attempt to harvest my lust?~"

Salma moaned and rocked her hips, something was wrong, she couldn’t satisfy her need, her need to…. To…. maybe if she bound herself... Yes. Yes. Yes! She needed to bind herself! Then she would be satisfied! She shook as she turned her own demonic abilities against herself.

A faint glow as bindings materialised; cuffs on her wrists, a heavy collar, bands restricted her wings and tail. She gave a meek pathetic scream as a plug filled her ass and a cock cage materialised, completing her bonds. Each item was a heavy, deep, dark coloured metal. Once the ensemble was complete, binding symbols appeared and burned into them.

Bound, unable to fly, surrounded by metal shaped with her captivity in mind, by her captive mind, Salma felt like Mistress' caged bird. The thought only made her shudder further. She had no control over herself, her lips parted, and the caged bird sang a song of rapture, for her Mistress. She sang as the clash of all-engulfing need, and unyielding, biting frustration took her. Coherence and control of her voice were taken, alongside her freedom of movement.

“Good girl, what a beautiful song of ecstasy.” Mistress cooed, her whole body flushed upon hearing Salma’s moaning symphony.

Mistress’ praise! Salma spasmed, the sigils on her bonds flashed, and she let out a small wail, tears welled up as she found herself looking deep, deep into Mistress’ eyes. Slowly, she opened a shaking hand. Mistress blinked and looked down. In the centre of her palm, was a crystal. A dark crystal that glowed the same colour as her bondage sigils. Sealed inside, the Mistress could make out the faint dark shape of a key. A key to her collar, her cuffs, her cage. The key that secured her new trinket.

That’s it, break for me, my prize.

Mistress looked back to Salma’s face and drank in her pleading emerald eyes, her oh so kissable lips, and slowly held open her own hand.

Seal the contract~

She needed to give the key to the Mistress. Yes! Yes! Give the key! Give herself! Give her denial! Need what she can’t have! Need to need what she can’t have! Her hand moved to Mistress’ hand.

Leak to the thought of it~

Salma did.

Need my control~

Salma’s hand moved, clutching the crystal, towards Mistress.

Need my denial~

Need to serve~

Need to need it~

To stay feeling this goooood. All. The. Time~

“Neeeeeeeed”

Need this...

Salma’s hand was above Mistress’ open palm.

EXQUISITE,   

Shaking.

ECSTATIC,

Trembling.

AGONY~

Tears streamed down Salma’s face. Mistress reached out her other hand, and with a caress, held Salma’s face so as she gazed into Mistress’ eyes. Beautiful, transfixed, agonised.

“Shatter for me, my beautiful, beautiful prize. Give yourself, of your own volition. Eagerly.”

“YES! HERE! IT’S YOURS! ALL YOURS! PLEASE! I DON’T WANT IT ANYMORE!” she pleaded.

The key dropped.

As Mistress closed her hand around the crystal, Salma felt the same grasp tighten around her heart, around her mind.

Mistress took her new slave in a sensual kiss, groping a crimson breast.

Good girls spasm from having obeyed~

The slave moaned a breathless screaming song of defeat, shaking, and leaking profusely. Her bond sigils hummed and sparks danced from them. Hellfire danced along her skin-markings. She collapsed, her being was shattered, torn open for Mistress by the beautiful torture.

Mistress put the crystal between her bosom. It will make a nice amulet, she thought, threw her head back, and gave a victorious laugh.

The fire of the summoning circle died down, a faint glow from the embers.

It did not need instruction. Her will was done. Time to go. The drone walked forward and picked Salma up, cradling her in its arms.

Another toy for the toybox.

Credits:

Thanks go to Mistress Valentina (@Valentina_NSFW) for massaging my suggestible mind into accepting a succubus headspace that formed the original inspiration for this story.

I’m also very grateful for the counsel and notes from Azure of the Bloody Rose (@AzuresMansion). Her talent for words never ceases to impress and enthral, and has been instrumental in the final form of the story.

About the Author

Sabrina Jaye Ward is a friendly, hypnokinky, drone trans nerd, who grew up in a small town in South Lincolnshire, England, where the inhabitants were suspicious and prone to treachery and breaking out into song, sometimes at the same time.

She now lives in another, equally disturbing village. Or does she? When she’s not science-ing she spends her spare time indulging in her hobbies. Common activities include gardening, gathering evidence, doing archery, running from fraught situations, gaming (of the video and tabletop variety), collecting retro computers and technology, [REDACTED], keeping interesting pets, and evading capture.

The authorities still refuse to believe her. But they’ll see, they’ll all see!

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