SNEAK PEEK -Succubus

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The Second circle of Hell is comprised of a great tempest which swirls eternally. In it, there is no satisfaction, no after glow. It is the whips of desire which drive on the tormented souls who succumbed to the most base physical desires in their mortal life. They will always want, always need, always feel themselves on the edge of completion and never experience it.

The commander of this realm is the personification of Lust as symbolized by Lillith, the first to let her loins sway her from obeying Gods commands. She sits on a great red throne which lies at the base of a pillar around which the tormented souls fly in their ceaseless desire. Upon her head lies a crown made from wormwood and nettles, revealing her inner bitterness against the love which has failed her. She takes who she wishes to satisfy herself, and many of the famous adulterers through out history have found some glimpse of reprieve between her thighs. 

Though the fathers have been many, the children are always known as hers. They are the succubi and incubi, those who lie beneath and those who lie upon. They exist to slake their thirst for sexual energy, and increase their mothers domain through their contact with the human world.

Lillith can not leave her realm. Her children act for her.
 
The form of the children of Lillith are as varied as those of the humans they seek. They create these forms in order to cater to whatever the human they are after finds most attractive. Often it is simplistic, exaggerated, and applies to the most banal desires. Humans, by their standards, are not terribly complicated creatures, and easy to satisfy.

They feed off sexual emotions, from the most momentary attraction to the most perverse and twisted pleasures. Any will do. The more challenging their prey, the more they treasure the moment when they have ensnared them. Any victim will do. The incubi and succubi have no preference as to gender or sexuality. They will make themselves to fit the mold required of them. 

There are ways to determine if the sudden appearance of the 'perfect lover' is fate or the will of a demon. Succubi and incubi will always reveal certain traits common to their kind. They can not hide the eerie golden glow of their eyes, or the two small bumps on their forehead, revealing where their horns are located. They walk on their tiptoes, possibly because they are trying to hide the fact that they have hooves. Though they will appear physically beautiful beyond compare, their skin will run cold as ice, and their genitalia will be all the more warm and inviting.
 
Though few have ever seen the offspring of Lillith in their demonic forms, there are accounts of it in old manuscripts from those who have survived encounters with them. If the offspring fail to seduce and corrupt their prey, they will fly into a rage, revealing their true forms. Again, the appearance may vary, but is often wild and viscous looking! They are physically much more powerful than humans, and often sport animal like attributes such as bat wings, fangs, snake tongues, claws, and fur. Their genitalia are much more pronounced, and some account for the males having two phalluses and the females two clitorides. Some say they are hermaphrodites by their very nature. Others say that there is no male or female definition, their pelvic area entirely blank. All of these may be true, or none. It is difficult to tell  as accounts differ from person to person and culture to culture.   

The following stories are accounts of encounters with the children of Lillith:

~Year of Our Lord 1492~ Journal of Ferdinand de Reyes
 
I am only a simply monk. I have never had delusions of grandeur or the desire to rise higher than the station to which god and the abbot have afforded me. Were it not for the church and the good foresight of my family, which was too poor to provide me with sustenance as a child, I might have lacked all the benefits that come from life within the monastery. I do what many can not. I read. I write. I eat well. I tend my garden and brew beer. I have a warm bed and good clothing. My life is a simple one. A good one. I thank God above for all that I have been given.   
 
So why then does he come?
 
At night, after our prayers have been said and I retire to my room, I hold my rosary close and pray that I will be relieved of the sins which visit me in my sheets. While I slumber, a chilling mist threats through the cracks of my windows and invades the sanctity of my chambers. I find myself adrift within it, trapped and held down by the weight as if lost in a mire. It sinks through my clothing, soaking me to the bone. I shed my cloth, and that is when he comes. His eyes burn like the embers of a hearth, and he smiles at me through berry stained lips. He presses his body to mine and I am helpless before his prowess. I resist, I whisper no, and yet my form calls to his. He lies atop me and I prostrate myself before him helplessly.   
 
At night, I worship him as my God. But when the sun rise I beg forgiveness for my sins. What must I do? Oh God in Heaven, what must I do?
  
***
~Year 897~ From the Court Scholar of  Sheikh Dahir al-Jilani
 
She has utterly enchanted him.   
 
Before her arrival, our beloved patriarch often found himself adrift with melancholy. A man of wisdom and theology, our Sheikh requires stimulating conversation in order to maintain a sharp and cunning mind. While the fellow elders of our tribe are quick and well educated men, they are all too often bound by the limits of their experiences and learning. Unwilling to enter into discussions which fall outside of their understanding.   
 
She arrived after a terrible sand storm which threatened to tear through out encampment. At first we feared djinn to be the cause of such strife, but if any dwelt in the surrounding mountains, they quieted when she came forward. She calls herself Firuzeh, but I do not believe for one moment that this is her true name. She was dressed in old cloth, but it was clearly quite fine once. She conducted herself with distinction, asking for hospitality, which the Sheikh has a reputation for.   
 
Within a fornight he was quite besotted with her, and now often spends many hours in her company. In truth, I can not deny her grace nor her beauty. Of all the women who have the pleasure of the Sheikh's company, she stands above them as his equal. She seems to have lifted his morose condition. He finds himself rejuvenated, enjoying his old pleasures of hunting once more.   
 
But a disquiet grows within my soul. I am afraid that I may have betrayed my lord and master to some degree. Every week, Firuzeh goes to the pool to bathe herself in the waters beneath the stars. She goes alone, and no man here would dare offer her harm. Suspecting treachery, I followed her, and what I saw astonished me more than any wonder I have ever seen!

She shed her cloth, I beheld strange nodules along her spine, culminating in a long tail which slashed in the air like a crocodile agitated by prey. As she bathed, she sang in a tongue I have never heard and hope to never hear again! I must have made some betraying sound, for she turned, and her eyes! Her eyes glowed like fire in the darkness! She lifted her hands up and beckoned me forward, but I ran from the sight of her, though my body burned for her touch! Firuzeh has not spoke not looked at me since the incident, and the Sheikh does not seem to know of my trespass. Dare I reveal what I have seen to him? Dare I risk ruining his joy? If she makes him happy, how wicked of a creature can she possibly be?
 
I pray that I have made the right decision.   
 
***
 ~Diary of Elenora Lopez, 1673~
 
I work, but the work is slow. As this disease spreads, more of my people are consumed by it. I am not a doctor. No one hear can afford such a luxury. But I do what I can with the herbs and medicines my abulita taught to me. It helps sometimes, if I can get to them early enough. But the church is watching closely. There are already rumors surrounding my family. I can't risk too much. But my people need my help.   
 
My abulita used to speak to me of her friend. She never told me her name. But in her stories, her friend would aid her when the situation was dire in exchange for a night in her bed. Before she passed, she gave me her old dowry chest and warned me not to open it unless I was desperate. Mother tried to pry the lock open, thinking perhaps abulita had hidden money in it, but the lock refused to be budged. Papa tried to crack it open, but the wood did not splinter. They tried to sell it. But the buyer returned it after a few days, saying the box kept him awake at night.
 
Sometimes at night, if I listen very carefully, if I dare to peek my head out from under the covers, I can hear something scratching from the inside of the chest. Sometimes, it knocks, as if trying to get me to open a door. 

Yesterday, I was cleaning out the storage room when I found abulita's old Bible. I flipped through it and inside was a key made from the same kind of metal as the lock on her dowry chest. I have kept the key by my side for a long time now. My abulita was said to be a powerful brujah, powerful enough that even the church feared her. It was said that the poor came to her and traded her food and chickens in exchange for her help. 

Abulita told me she had a friend who helped her.   
 
Tonight I will open the box, and if I am lucky, maybe I can make friends with whoever knocks at night.