Trigger Warning: This story is at least PG-13 with a little R thrown in (I tried to be as circumspect as possible and still retain the overall imagery of the story), so if you’re offended by sensual language with a touch of horror, you might want to stop reading now.
Lilith was always the first to arrive, but as the great mother, she was responsible for preparing the holy site for the others.
“Mother!” Naamah ran into the clearing, and with a gazelle-like leap to clear a fallen log, she fell into Lilith’s arms. If mother and daughter were human, their embrace would appear lewd and obscene, their hands and tongues sliding sensually over each others supple, lightly clad bodies, but for the most ancient of demons, this was a standard greeting, especially after being parted for an entire year (though at their age, a year wasn’t considered very long at all).
They parted as Rahab and Vashti arrived. Then Shelomit, Helah, and Jezebel joined them. As the sun hung low on the western horizon, the others came, and after engaging in the same ritual greeting, which stopped short of becoming a frenzied orgy (for that was yet to come), the hundreds gathered in several concentric circles around the tall, verdant phallic idol.
“Daughters of Lilith,” the mother began, “We gather here on this All Hallows Eve to celebrate our power, and to give thanks to our one true redeemer. It was he who taught me that a woman is never subservient to any man. Though he who shall remain nameless made me from the same clay as the first man, and commanded me to serve the man, the serpent, blessed be he, whispered into my ear, that man was meant to service us.”
The horde of succubi cheered, their wanton cries echoing through the deep forest such that no creature dared approach them, the clearing, and their idol.
Under the light of the last quarter of the silvery moon, each of them removed their scanty clothing, robes to rags, baring perpetually youthful, lovely, and sexually curvaceous forms to the trees, the stars, and especially to each other.
Lilith leaped to the top of the emerald cylindrical idol, and parting her legs above it, inserted the tip into her feminine orifice. “Tonight, we honor he who made us what we are, he who showed us the truth, and he who gave us power over men. Tonight is the Dance of the Succubus.”
The moss-covered stone idol, glowed red, and then took on flesh and warmth as Lilith lowered herself upon it, allowing its now quivering mass to enter her deeply. Rapidly undulating, she screamed with her first climax, as the myriad of her daughters attacked each other in base and carnal ways, and it would have been difficult for a mere mortal, if one were present, to determine if they were passionately embracing agony or ecstasy.
Then one by one, they each took their turn with the idol, which was now oozing with the genital fluids of both the succubi, and the enormous penis of their malicious and nefarious master, the lord of the underworld, the ruler of the demonic. As the night progressed, the glade was fairly flooded with the moistness of their lust, until the final succubus, Ahlai, the last of the daughters of Lilith, slaked her lascivious desires upon the enormous length of Satan’s member.
“Bring forth the sacrifice.” Lilith was standing in the midst of her all but exhausted children, most of whom were lying on the ground, soaked with sweat, semen, and their own fluids, panting and seemingly spent. Then a pit formed among them and four male demons rose carrying with them a man.
“He chose this one for this year’s offering,” growled Ashmedai who was chief among the demons.
“Release him, for no man can resist us,” the succubus mother commanded, and immediately the chains binding the man vanished. “Now leave us,” she shrieked, and the four demons descended back into the pit of sulfur and smoke, which they sealed behind him.
“You’ve got to help me. They’re gone now. We’ve got to get away.” He was maybe twenty years old or younger, tall, sinewy, dark hair and eyes, and as was proper for the role, a virgin. Of course, he was nude, and unbidden, his manhood began to stiffen and rise at the sight of so many seductive women from every race and ethnicity of the earth, writhing on the grass at his feet.
“What are you doing? Don’t come near me. Please, I’ve got to get back home.”
“Oh boy, you are in the only home you’ll ever know,” cooed Lilith. She moved her hips amorously, the inside of her thighs gleaming with wetness. “Who would like him first?”
A chorus of “pick me, pick me” filled the dark woods as each of the daughters rose and circled the man-child.
“Basemeth, you shall begin, and the rest will follow, whoever can beat off the others to take the vitality of the sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice?” His voice broke as he uttered the word.
“My pleasure, dearest mother.” The succubus could have been the same age as the boy but she was centuries old. Her skin was flawless, breasts ample and firm, and she was pleased when he glanced upon them, and then became unable to look away. Fine, downy fur covered her head and her pubes, and when she opened her mouth, a long pink tongue snaked across her scarlet lips.
“Don’t be afraid, well, not yet, anyway. I’ll try to be gentle. I know you are not accustomed to the ways of pleasure, but I shall teach you. We all will, won’t we, sisters?” A multitude of ascents filled the boy’s ears. Basemath embraced him with slender arms which he discovered had the grip of steel, and then she kissed him, her tongue prying open his lips and teeth. She could feel his hardness against her belly, and she undulated upon him, driving him to madness with his own excitement. And then she took him and he cried out at the first of his many orgasms that night.
And then they all joined in, ravishing his body, again and again taking him physically, forever corrupting his soul.
It was dawn before they finished, and they left his cold, dead body by the phallus, which vanished in the first rays of daylight. Then the daughters of Lilith returned to wander the world of men, tempting saints and sinners alike.
I created this for the Thurday Photo Prompt hosted at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. The idea is to use one of Sue’s original photos, posted at the top, to craft a poem, short story, or other creative work.
I know this seems to cast women in a bad light, and makes men the victims, and especially in this #MeToo age, that’s probably poor form, but it fit the general theme of the myths I was accessing, so it is what it is.
Oh, all of the names are taken from women in the Bible. I applied them randomly, and have no intent on sullying the reputations of any of those women.