The night was quiet, dark, lonesome—Eleonora, along with her sister Julie, Queenie, Cordelia, and the Spencers called the sizeable mansion-based academy home. She was nestled beneath her thin comforter, fixed especially to keep cool during the humidity of summer. Her eyes were closed, and she turned on her side, breathing slowly and silently as her mind was blank and at ease.
Suddenly, the sound of a deep moaning caused Eleonora to trudgingly open her eyes. With sleep compacted into the corners of her eyes, she raised her fingers to them to pick it out before sitting up to look around the room for the source of the sound. Seeing nothing but the usual darkness, she gently laid her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. Within twenty minutes of falling asleep, she tossed and turned violently, feeling the heat rise uncomfortably as it made her sweat. In her sleep, she paid no mind to the return of the strange, deep-sounding moans as she tossed the covers off her form.
It escalated to tingling sensations in the lower portion of her body from the pelvis down, intense heat at the loins as she moaned seemingly from the sizzling sensations. However, it did not stop there—Eleonora began to tear off her clothing in her sleep, unknowingly gyrating her hips in the nude as sweat escaped through every pore. There was neither pain nor suffering; in fact, it was quite the opposite—it was ecstasy, pleasure at its finest. It couldn't have been sexual frustration, as her conscious mind would know, but she moaned gradually louder until breathing heavily in a coitus-like climax.
The following morning, Eleonora realized that she was completely naked. Gasping in shock at the sight of her personal indecencies, she accidentally slipped and fell off the bed and to the carpeted floor next to where her pajamas were. She reached for them and put them on briskly only to notice that there were rips in the fabric; it were as though a tiger had fiercely torn into her clothing with its razor sharp claws. Shaking her head, she tossed the clothing aside before standing to approach her wardrobe, opening it to grab a black pencil skirt with an elastic, wide waistband in which to tuck in her plain white scoop-neck tank top. To complete the look she was going for, she took out her favorite black bolero blazer and a fresh pair of undergarments before sprinting to the shower to clean up the perspiration that still stuck to her form.
After breakfast with the thirty-one students, Cordelia, Queenie, Zoe and her son Andrew, Eleonora was set to take a mixed group of pupils outside in order to reattempt a lesson on atmokinesis, the power of weather control, a power in which she had been proficient all her life. She had been born with the ability among a few others, and it was the first of them she had discovered during early childhood. The group of students all worked together to make the sun shine, but it still remained cloudy. She only had a minute of pride to herself.
Within the second night of casting the spell with the aid of the other witches, Eleonora experienced very much the same night sweats, tingling, intense heat and unexplainable arousal in her loins, tearing off her own clothes as she moaned out, and the same, haunting sound of deep, gruesome growling. There were only a few differences—thinking she was in a dream, she felt a presence above her, taking her and plunging deep into her core. Paying no mind to it, she remained asleep and lost in the climactic ecstasy.
Upon waking up, she scurried to get back into her pajamas and felt a strange pain on her neck. Eleonora walked toward the full-length mirror to notice long, superficial scratches that resembled something similar to the morning before—as though a tiger pranced into her room and attacked her during sleep. Getting bathed and dressed in her usual business-casual attire, she went down to meet the others for breakfast. While the students ate at the long table in the dining room, the members of the coven ate at the table in the kitchen; it was when Eleonora was seated that Julie noticed the heavy scratches on her sister's neck.
"W-What are those?" the Supreme asked. Queenie, Cordelia, Zoe, and her son Andrew all looked to see what she had been talking about—Eleonora just stared at them like it was nothing.
"Huh?"
"We don't have any cats in here," Julie said. "Where did you get those scratches?"
"Oh, I woke up with them."
"But they're so long, though," Zoe noticed. "What have you been doing?"
"Maybe she's been doing something wicked?" Queenie assumed with a sassy cackle. Eleonora and Zoe looked at the obese, ebony-skinned woman strangely while the doe-eyed, angel-faced witch covered her young son's ears.
"Uh, watch what you say," Zoe snapped. "There are children in the room."
"Andrew, are you done with your breakfast?" Cordelia asked.
"Almost," the little boy answered, his dark eyes looking at the blind witch with large, gaudy sunglasses.
It did not take long—when he left, he took his syrup-coated plate and empty glass formerly of orange juice with him to the sink to clean it off. Andrew made sure the water was only running shallowly so he could still be able to hear what his mother and the other women at the table were talking about in regards to the mysterious scratches afflicted on Eleonora's neck.
"What's been going on in your sleep?" Queenie asked. "Are you doing—"
"Look, I don't know," Eleonora replied, holding her hands out as she spoke with them to add emphasis to her words.
Suddenly, Julie's cold hand, not unusual, reached for her sister's forearm as she closed her eyes. Eleonora gasped, seeing her concentrate only to open her eyes and stare conspiratorially at her sister.
"Uh…Eleonora?" she asked uncertainly.
Then Cordelia, using her gift of Second Sight, reached to hold her other hand, gasping and letting go immediately after receiving similar visions as the Supreme had.
"Oh, dear," the older woman said.
"Dreams of an erotic nature," Julie said.
"Huh?"
"Yes, Eleonora. I saw everything. You woke up naked, didn't you?" her sister asked.
"Ugh," the younger blonde muttered. "I-I don't know what happened. Idid wake up without my pajamas on, and I think the AC is broken because it suddenly got very hot."
"Hot?" Queenie asked. "I mean, this city's hot as hell this time of year. What do you expect?"
"No, it was comfortable. It was me getting hot," Eleonora said. "Then…I had this…dream, I guess."
"Tell us," Julie insisted, resting her pale white, round-heart shaped face on her propped hand on the table.
"It wasn't painful…didn't feel like someone hurting me," her sister said. "It felt…oh my god, like…amazing. It felt so good."
"Erotic, huh?" Zoe asked, repeating Julie's assumption as she sipped her cup of hot, decaffeinated coffee. "Who was it?"
"I couldn't see their face. I don't remember," Eleonora said, moving her fringe to the side of her forehead.
"We should get Misty over here to put that poultice on her scratches," Cordelia suggested.
"No, no. I can heal her myself," Julie said.
The Supreme stood up, looking down at one of the amulets hanging from her neck as she made Eleonora tilt her head back to make the animalistic scratches more noticeable. Julie kissed the palm of her right hand and concentrated, pressing it into her skin and focusing enough to repair the scratches completely. The other witches watched as Julie pulled her hand away, looking down to see Eleonora's skin back to normal. Even just after rising to the supremacy, Julie tried to heal the large burn scar on the back of her neck with it being partially successful—it was no easy task considering the scar was only so many years old.
The third night, Eleonora seemed to be fully aware even as she slept—Julie had given her a jet talisman to ward off evil spirits during the night. Even a candle had been lit on her bedside table in the event she suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. Just when the sensation of heat, tingling, unexplained arousal in her loins, and night sweats came, she gripped the jet pendant that was hanging around her neck, her eyes opened wide but too weary to actually see anything but a figure standing at the foot of her bed. Startled, she jumped, taking the covers off her and stepping onto the floor with the figure seeming to turn itself to face her direction. Eleonora darted her green eyes downward to see that there were no feet—the figure was just floating in limbo.
"G-Get out," the blonde witch ordered. "Whatever, whoever you are. Please leave."
She looked behind her to distinguish a lampshade, but the figure drew nearer before she had the chance to flick on the switch, let alone telekinetically turn it on. Eleonora was too dumbstruck to scream, too horrified to faint, too speechless to say anything at all—it was strange. The figure was above eye level, quite tall, but did not appear to have eyes itself. It sent chills down her spine when the figure finally spoke.
"Don't be 'fraid, darlin'. I ain't gonna hurt you."
"Show yourself!" Eleonora exclaimed.
"Oh, darlin', you know I can't be doin' that yet," the figure said. "I let you hear my voice, so ain't that enough?"
"No!" the blonde witch exclaimed, taking care not to wake any of the students or the council members up. "Show your face. Now."
There was a strange, eerie silence—Eleonora waited for an answer or for the figure to show their face and reveal their identity.
"If you insist," the figure said, "come on over by that mirror. Bring that candle. You'll be seein' me. My true form."
"True form?" Eleonora asked.
"Yup, now go over there."
As the figure seemed to float toward the intended place, Eleonora resisted the urge to turn on her lamp by instead reaching for the candle at her nightstand, which was only seconds away from being a mere nub of wax with a flickering flame dancing on the wick. With her finger in the loop of the candle holder, she slowly made her way to the full length mirror. She stopped for a minute, getting a glimpse of a reflective gleam as she slowly drew closer, nervously with apprehension.
"C'mon, sugar," the figure said, almost a purr in its voice. "I ain't gonna bite."
Bringing the candle up, Eleonora gasped at the sight she saw in the mirror. Instead of seeing her own reflection, it was the image of a young man; why did he hide himself under the guise of a black cloak, she thought, he's so handsome. He seemed to have a radiant magnetism about him, and she peered into his smirking face to admire his features—he was indeed magnificent with brown hair, crystal clear blue eyes, and a chiseled face cut like glass. Her green eyes ventured lower to admire his physique as it was shown under a plain white t-shirt—she saw hints of a muscular frame with broad, manly shoulders and good posture as he stood in place of her reflection. The figure smiled, his white teeth sparkling like a thousand suns and dazzling Eleonora to the point of parting her lips for a slight one.
"Surprise," he muttered.
"S-Step out of that mirror," Eleonora said nervously, politely pleading with the figure.
"Oh, c'mon, sugar," he said, his eyes piercing and intense at the witch. "Can't you just admire me like this? You ain't never seen nothin' like it, have you?"
"Please, just…" She gulped in fright, still shocked by what she had seen, "step out? D-Do you have a physical form?"
"Oh, I can try," he said. "That's the least I can do for the fine lady who summoned me."
Summoned, she thought as she widened her eyes and gasped, could it be?
"Summoned?" Eleonora asked, bringing the candle downward at a safer distance. The figure noticed her look of shock and shook his head.
"Aw, baby-doll," he cooed, morphing into his physical, human form as he stepped out of the mirror. Eleonora nearly dropped the candle to see him this way as she adjusted her gaze to look up at him—he's tall, she thought, he has to be five eleven or six feet.
"I'm five foot ten, in actuality," he said—she gasped in shock, realizing that she had just been thinking and speculating about his height.
"Huh? How did you—"
"I know what lurks in a woman's mind," the figure said, cutting in with his painfully soft, seductively deep voice. "Your's don't surprise me. I can read everythin' your thinkin' of right now. It's an easy trick, really..." He trailed off, circling the weary, frightened witch as she stood still, entranced by his presence and magnetism. "I know you're capable of the same doin's."
"H-How did you get here?" Eleonora asked forcefully. "I don't understand!"
"I can sense your fear. You're terrible at hidin' it," he snided, circling her more. "To answer your question, you gotta first ask yourself. Who do you believe to be the perfect man? What traits did you ask for while doin' that ritual with your friends?"
Eleonora was struck silent, her eyes widened and fixed on the door of her room as the handsome figure lurked around her, circling her with small steps to accompany his soft, kindly, non-rhotic Southern accent.
"I can remember clearly what you wrote down with that blood red ink on that fine parchment." He paused, still circling her slowly with thoughts in good order; his voice droned like music to her ears. "Tall…handsome…a muscular build…brown hair…crystal clear blue eyes…" She felt chills being sent down her spine as she felt his presence behind her, breathing near the crook of her neck and whispering as she snaked his fantastical arms around her waist, "romantic…passionate…someone with a brain…someone you could talk to…huge—"
"I didn't say that," Eleonora breathed, feeling pleasure from his presence alone.
"Oh, but it was still in your mind as your fellow mystic uttered that word from her tongue," he whispered, his hands caressing and touching as he tried to slink his hands up the front of her pajama shirt. "But aside from someone acceptin', there was one other request you had for the powers that be."
He leaned in more, whispering directly in her ear as he sensed a foreign calmness within her—"someone with whom you could feel a connection."
He sighed breathily and slid his hands slowly up the front of her shirt, making her gasp and moan softly as he squeezed her full, small breasts gently with little pressure.
"I knew that blood smelled familiar when you let it drop durin' the ritual," he whispered, still fondling her and making her moan softly without inhibitions to stop her. "As the parchment burned, I could smell it as I was bein' summoned. My, my, it was sweet-smellin'…I felt the hidden desire then. I've a connection with that sweet smell…it's like I known you before."
Eleonora was amazed, taken by him—never a believer in love at first sight or strong attachments in short amounts of time, she let herself go as she felt his unreal hands fondling her rounds, feeling his thumbs just barely grazing her soft nipples.
"Tell me your name," she begged in a pleasured sigh.
"I didn't tell you my name, sugar?" he asked.
"No, no, you didn't. I want to know," she said.
"You're Eleonora," he said. "I knew that the moment your blood hit the paper."
"But you…uh…who are you?" she asked. "Where did you come from? What are you?"
Her tone of voice was ecstatic, like a purring cat in heat. He chuckled slightly and bit his lower lip.
"Well, I'm an incubus," he said. "As for my name…call me David."
"David," she sighed, her gaze staring off into space as if in a trance. "Why did you keep coming into my room? Was that you?"
"Yes, it was," he cooed.
"But I gave you no consent," Eleonora sighed, still in her trance of a sexual nature. "Does that mean you violated me?"
"No, darlin'. You gave your consent the moment you summoned me," David whispered, fondling her breasts a bit harder as he fed off her moans. "It ain't rape. I could tell that you liked it a real lot. Didn't you, sugar?"
"Oh, I've never felt such pleasure in all my years of living," the witch revealed.
"Hmm," David purred, reaching his other hand beneath the elastic band of her pajama bottoms; Eleonora gasped, whimpering in a pleading manner. "You know, most men're scared of women with obvious power. I'm turned on by it." He bucked his hips to her behind, and where she gasped at the sensation of a generous, throbbing bulge; as she was distracted, he reached down and began to manually pleasure the sides of her wet, slick folds.
"Oh my…ah!" she panted.
"Hmm…let me take your fear of love away. Let me take all your filters away," David begged, motioning her to the bed and bending her over as his fingers found her most sensitive nub, massaging it enough to nearly make her breath stop.
"Mm…do it," Eleonora whimpered. "I don't care how, just do it."
"Hm," the incubus purred, whispering in her ear cryptically as he bent her over completely. "What feels good comes with a cost. At the end of the day, I suppose it's just a matter of figurin' out how much you're willin' to pay."
The witch was suddenly nervous, turning her lustrous green eyes back at him.
"Don't worry," David continued. "I ain't gonna make you pay. Just bend over on all fours for me. C'mon, sugar, I can take it. Let me take it."
A/N:
The incubus has finally come! Well, let's see what kind of influences he will have not only over Eleonora but the coven as a whole, hm?
Thanks so much to Weezy815, littlexkiller, and a mystery Guest for leaving the first reviews on my story!
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