Power made Manifest

He took her hand firmly in his, the warmth of her skin a stark contrast to the cold resolve in his grip. "Come. Time is shorter than you know." he said, leading her from his chambers and down the winding staircase into the bowels of the tower. The air grew colder, the walls damp and the scent of mold and earth grew stronger with each step. They descended into the chamber that had once been the site of his own rebirth. The place where he had first called upon Aesmaram and struck his pact.

The room was unchanged from their last visit. The same ancient stone walls, the same large crystals in alignment, pulsating with an eerie blue light. The very air was thick with the residue of the powerful magic that had been worked here, a potent cocktail of desire and power. Chelsea looked around nervously, her heart pounding in her chest. The candles flickered to life as they approached, casting dancing shadows across the floor.

Aesmaram tore himself from Markash, his ethereal form walking to the key position of the circle. He began to chant, slowly at first, invoking names, places, and powerful incantations.

"You know what you to do, I am here, but once the demon is here I can no longer help." Markash instructed, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. His eyes never left hers as she took a deep breath and began to strip off her clothing. The fabric fell away from her body, revealing her soft, pale skin. She felt ****, exposed, but also strangely empowered by the act. It was as if she was shedding her old life, leaving it behind in a pile on the cold stone floor.

Once she was naked, Chelsea lay down in the center of the circle, her body trembling slightly. The chilly floor sent goosebumps along her skin, but she remained still, her gaze focused on the crystal at the center of the room. The blue light danced over her, casting her in a cold, ethereal glow.

Aesmaram's voice grew louder, the words rolling off his tongue like a dark incantation. His form grew more substantial, the shadows coalescing into a being of unearthly beauty and terrifying power. His eyes were pools of molten gold, his skin a mix of obsidian and the deepest, most alluring red. His wings, a tapestry of shadow and light, unfurled with a sound like the rustling of a million leaves.

The demon's voice reaching a crescendo the the pale blue light changed erupting into a deep passionate crimson light that seemed to soak into every crevice. An intense heat swept through the room in a tornado, Chelsea closed her eyes tightly and even Markash was **** to look away.

When Chelsea dared to open them again, a creature of pure lust and beauty stood before her. Her eyes widened as she took in the succubus' form. The demon's skin was a flawless blend of the darkest night and the most seductive shade of red, as if the moon had bled onto velvet. Her breasts were full and pert, nipples hard with excitement.

The succubus leaned over her, her eyes burning with hunger. "Ah, a female host," she purred, her voice like silk over sharpened steel. "This is indeed a rare treat." Her breath was hot against Chelsea's neck, sending waves of desire through her body. "I am Aeslith, and I shall be your guide through the realms of pleasure and power."

With a sinuous grace, Aeslith's body began to shift. Her pussy elongated, the folds of her sex morphing into something more, something that could give and truly claim her host. Chelsea watched, her breath hitching in her throat as the demon's form changed before her very eyes. The succubus's labia parted, and from the depths of her sex grew a thick, pulsing cock, the tip glistening with a clear fluid. It was a sight that both terrified and thrilled her.

Aeslith bent down, her eyes never leaving Chelsea's. Her kisses growing more urgent as they traveled up her legs, the touch of her lips like the brush of velvet against her skin. Chelsea's thighs quivered as Aeslith reached her center, the demon's breath hot and moist against her sex. She felt the first touch of the succubus's tongue, a gentle flick that sent a jolt of pleasure through her body. Aeslith's kisses grew more insistent, her tongue exploring Chelsea's folds with a practiced skill that had her arching her back off the cold stone.

The sensations were overwhelming, a symphony of pleasure that built with each passing moment. Chelsea's eyes rolled back in her head, a moan escaping her lips as Aeslith's mouth found her clit. The demon's kisses grew more fervent, her tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Chelsea's hands clutched the edges of the stone altar, her knuckles white with the effort to hold on.

Aeslith's newfound cock, a monstrous appendage of pure desire, nudged against Chelsea's wetness. She felt the tip press inside her, stretching her walls with a mix of pain and pleasure. A whimper left her mouth, but she didn't push the succubus away. Instead, she spread her legs wider, inviting the creature to take her fully.

Aeslith's hips began to move in a steady, rhythmic motion, her cock sliding in and out of Chelsea with an ease that spoke of centuries of experience. Chelsea's eyes rolled back in her head, lost in the sensation of being filled so completely by something so inhumanly perfect. The succubus's every thrust sent waves of ecstasy crashing through her body, the pressure building with each movement.

The demon's hands roamed over her body, teasing her breasts and nipples until they were hard little peaks of desire. Aeslith's mouth was everywhere, kissing, nipping, sucking, until Chelsea felt like she was nothing but a vessel for the creature's insatiable hunger. Her body responded in kind, arching to meet each thrust, her hips rising to meet the succubus's. The pleasure was so intense that she could feel it in her very soul.

The demon's pace grew faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the chamber. Chelsea's moans grew louder, filling the room with the symphony of their union. The pressure within her was building, a crescendo of need that threatened to shatter her into a million pieces.

Aeslith's thrusts grew more powerful, the demon's grip on her hips tightening as she drove into her with a ferocity that bordered on ****. Chelsea's body was a canvas of sensation, her skin alight with the demon's touch. She could feel Aeslith's cock swelling inside her, the heat of the creature's climax approaching.

Her cries grew louder, the pleasure almost too much to bear. And then, with a final, earth-shattering thrust, Aeslith released a guttural roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the tower. The succubus's body convulsed as she climaxed, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

The demon's cock swelled even larger inside Chelsea, the head of it pulsing as a flood of hot, sticky seed filled her. Chelsea's body tensed, her eyes snapping open as the intensity of the feeling overwhelmed her. It was as if the very essence of the demon was filling her, a dark, powerful energy that seemed to coil around her soul. As the orgasm tore through Chelsea, Aeslith shattered into a thousand motes of magic, each of which layered over Chelsea before subsuming into her skin.

Aesmaram and Markash merged once again as they went to collect Chelsea from the center of the circle. The woman's physical body would need rest, while in her soul the demon and Chelsea struck their bargain.

——————

The next morning dawned, bright and clear despite the tumultuous night before. Markash found himself in the grand hall of the Sanders manor, his new seat of power, surrounded by the remnants of the man he had brought to his knees. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of battles and conquests, the floor polished to a gleaming shine by the industrious goblin servants who had been working tirelessly since their arrival.

Natalie, still technically the mistress of the manor did her best to appear in charge and placid. Inside her emotions were a tempest. The deal with Markash had been more than she had anticipated. She had felt his power, the dark allure of his magic, and she knew she was now a pawn in his game. Yet, as she served the breakfast she had prepared, the fear she had felt the night before had transformed into something different.

"Chelsea - You know only that they are coming from Mosspoint. You were offered no details?" Markash's question hung in the air, his gaze sharp as he regarded the priest's daughter. She had been up all night, her mind racing with the implications of her decision, her body still humming with the power that now coursed through her veins.

"No, Markash," she replied, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands as she served him his morning meal. "Father was...concerned, but he did not share any specifics." Chelsea's eyes darted to the side, where Isabella sat quietly, her gaze on her plate, avoiding the tension in the room. The silence stretched taut, only the clinking of silverware against porcelain breaking the stillness.

"I see, Samuel, the task falls to you then." Markash snapped his finger and one of the goblins now assisting in the manor scrabbled to his side. "Summon Virrit. Tell her that her talents are needed once more." Samuel flushed, he'd not seen his lover since he left the guild hall.

As the goblin scurried away, Isabella looked up, her eyes cold. "The Inquisition will not be so easily fooled," she said, her voice clipped. "They are not naive villagers to be charmed by a pretty face and a well-placed word." She paused a question on her lips. "Magic is not against the church. These inquisitors are not a threat to us." Isabella's eyes stayed on Markash as if daring him to correct her.

That she clearly knew there was something about Markash other than traditional magic was not lost on him. She would need to be brought into the fold wholly. A potentially costly mistake to not bring her in before.

He took a sip of his tea, the liquid warm and soothing as it slid down his throat. "Isabella, my dear, you are correct in your assessment of the Inquisition's purpose, but they are a threat to us." He set the cup down with a delicate click.

"Master?" Isabella's voice was a blend of confusion and accusation.

"Chelsea." Markash looked at the priests daughter and in unspoken communication she stood and moved to lock the room. Cloistering the gathering. "The Inquisition is indeed a threat to us." He sighed and Aesmaram split from him, the demon manifesting in whole and taking his own seat at the table.

Isabella gasped at the demon. "I knew something wasn't right, but demons?" She whispered, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. "What have we done?"

"Oh please. Nothing worse than thousands before us." Markash admonished her. "I told you I was a third tier once. I would still be languishing away, near ****, if not already so. I made arrangements to ensure that would not happen."

Chelsea took her seat again, her eyes meeting his. Aeslith manifested behind Chelsea lending another demonic specter to their meeting. "You see, Isabella, we are all bound by choices we make. Markash chose to live and in doing so he gained power beyond his wildest dreams." She leaned back in the chair, her human seemingly at ease in the high-backed chair that once belonged to a Sanders. "I am Aeslith. I am here to serve Markash, and now, so do you."

Isabella's eyes darted from Chelsea to Markash, then to the demons. The reality of their situation sank in, heavy as the silence that filled the room. "But to serve demons," she murmured, her voice wavering.

"Is no different than human masters." Markash finished for her. "My contract with Aesmaram is to help his people manifest, and to spread the emotions on which they feed. Lust, desire, indulgence. Simple wants, nothing so crass like wrath, or simple greed, or disgusting gluttony or sloth."

Isabella swallowed hard, her eyes on her plate as she considered his words. The weight of what she had witnessed was immense, but the bond she shared with Markash was stronger than any fear of divine retribution. The lessons he had given her, the power she had felt, it was intoxicating. Her mind swirled with questions, but she knew better than to voice them out loud.

"Your father," Markash continued, "Would be a beggar now were it not for our intervention." While it was not said as a threat, Isabella caught the implication. The mayor was in his debt, and so was she.

Her eyes met Markash's again, searching for reassurance, for a sign that this path was not as dark as it seemed. The demon in him looked back, his features still handsome, yet now tinged with something else - something ancient and hungry. It was Aesmaram's influence, she knew, but her body flushed with arousal none the less.

"Isabella," he spoke her name with a gentle firmness that seemed to cut through the cobwebs of doubt in her mind. "You are a smart girl. You know that power is not inherently evil. It is what one does with it that matters." His hand reached across the table, the touch of his skin against hers sending a jolt of warmth through her. "You have seen what I can do. What we can do together. Do not let fear or the narrow-mindedness of your former life dictate your future."

She nodded. Her body betraying her mind; she was torn between the fear of damnation and the allure of power. Markash noticed her internal struggle and gave a reassuring smile. "You will come to understand," he said, his eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to envelop her. "For now, we must prepare for the inquisitors' arrival. We cannot let them disrupt our plans."

While he was silent during the exchange with Isabella, his mind was racing. Samuel finally understood the power that touched the master, the being that had whispered to those darkest thoughts within him was not just the enigmatic magister, but also his demonic partner. "Master, I would seek an accord with one of them as well."

Both Aesmaram and Markash's eyes snapped to Samuel. The guard's resolve was surprising, yet intriguing. "You wish to host a succubus?" His voice was level, but the excitement was palpable in the room.

The demon Aesmaram laughed looking at his minion Aeslith. Markash looked to his demonic partner "I told you he would come to us in time." His attention shifted back to the guard. "Samuel, thus far you have served well. See us through this trial with the inquisition and I will have it done.

Isabella watched the exchange between Markash and Samuel with a mix of shock and fascination. Her mind was still reeling from the revelation of his true nature, but something within her stirred. The power she had felt during their training sessions, the way he had saved her life, the way he looked at her with a hunger that was more than just physical - it all coalesced into a decision that she knew she had to make.

Looking up, she met Markash's gaze and nodded slowly. "I will stand by you," she said, her voice stronger than she had felt it in days. "I believe in what we can do together." The room felt as if it had been holding its breath, and now, with her words, it exhaled.

The demons withdrew back into their hosts. Natalie stood paralyzed near the door until Markash beckoned her over, undoing his trousers. She knew the drill, dropping to her knees without a word. His cock was already hard, the scent of power and sex thick in the air. She took him into her mouth, her eyes on Isabella who watched with a mix of horror and fascination.

"Ahh, much better, not needing to hide anymore." His voice was a grumbling rocky mix of his own and the demon's. "Now, the inquisitors." Markash's hand stroked Natalie's hair, his eyes never leaving Isabella's. "They seek to purge what they do not understand. To them, any magic that does not serve the Church is an abomination. How do we convince them there is nothing amiss."

Isabella's cheeks flushed, but she remained steadfast. "We can use their ignorance to our advantage. If they suspect something untoward, they will seek it out. We must make our magic seem innocent and pure, a boon to Merrit's Bend." Her eyes flicked towards the mistress of the Sanders family now eagerly taking Markash's manhood in her mouth.

Samuel nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving the succubus's form that was now Chelsea. "We can control the narrative, make it seem as though we are the town's protectors. If we are prepared, we can convince them that we are simply wielders of a different kind of divine power."