James' Perspective: (Succubus Arma) - If Only I Could Love

James' Perspective

Alright. I think I'm set so... I let go and Exit the app.

Immediately Arma begins to move and whew, there is a difference between looking at her frozen and time and watching the pink-sex machine I've created come to life. Like, I could almost just... watch her tits bounce about as she breathes, and be entertained. It's wild. Still, I feel like I shouldn't ogle her too blatantly (why? isn't that why I did this...?). It seems a bit too gauche: There's an order to things, right?

Ah, now my cheeks are heating up. I must look like a total virgin to--- what's she doing?

Some kind of red energy (Demon magic, I guess?) shines around Arma's body, then rushes forward and engulfs me before I even have time to panic. Abruptly, a pain I didn't realize I'd been feeling is eased, and I feel like I can should much more attention to the generous lady in front of me.

"There we are. Are you feeling better now, Summoner?" M'lady Arma asks playfully, as if she doesn't already know the answer.

"Yeah," the answer comes immediately, without hesitation, and I blink. Wait a second... "wait, didn't you already..." I reach up and tap my forehead. It doesn't hurt. Not that it should have, because Arma already healed me... didn't she? How would she have, though? Demonesses can't use healing magic. Blinking away the sudden confusion, and equally sudden certainty, I take a breath. I can't let my generous benefactor think I'm ungrateful.

"Yeah," I assure awkwardly, "Um... Thank you, my lady..." I trail off. Is... her name actually still Arma? Of course it is, why wouldn't it be? I didn't do anything to change it, after all. I feel silly not immediately spitting it out. Fortunately m'lady seems to find my bumbling to be quite amusing, judging from the sheer delight in her catlike eyes and the broad and not at all frightening smile on her face.

I think I gained points from that, somehow. Well, I won't complain, even if the stare is starting to become a little... intense. Fortunately, it seems she's about done thinking whatever strange assuredly important and thoughtful thoughts she's got running through that beautiful head of hers.

"Mhm," the beautiful demoness says, acknowledging my gratitude as if it's a matter of course - which it is, naturally - and introducing herself to me again. "I'm Arma." She starts... much less formally than the first time around, or am I imagining things? "Lady Arma of the Kingdeom Armelia," she continues, and I immediately feel silly again for doubting her. Of course she speaks in a courtly and elegant way. Look: She's even prostrating down and bowing her head almost to the ground as is right and proper for a lady of her stature. Wait- wha-?

"I'm technically the Princess and Heiress, I suppose," Arma says as she rises from her courtly bow, her smooth, friendly bab-- explanation easily distracting me from my thoughts, "but I'm not really allowed to inherit so I mostly just get to play pretend whenever daddy needs someone to play the role." I nod along as appropriate, taken in by Arma's gracious storytelling, "Ah. That's because daddy's not really my daddy."

Wait. What? The haze I've been lulled into is momentarily dispelled.

"I'm a succubus, you see?" Arma says, pointing to herself self-evidently. "We don't have real daddies, I've been told: We just kind of... pop!" She spreads her hands out with the word, but I'm too focused on the consequences of my actions being drilled verbally into my face to pay her - admittedly charming - body language any mind.

"And there we are." She says it cheerfully, but I feel like there's definitely something hidden behind that smile, although I definitely can't imagine what. "What about you? You look like you're human, so you must have parents..." and I do, of course, "ah, is that too personal? Am I talking too much? I'm definitely talking too much!"

The way she panics would be kind of cute, if my guts weren't twisting with guilt from effectively orphaning her, disinheriting her, and generally taking a perfectly good pair shoes and throwing them away to shove some nice ones I saw onto her feet that just... don't fit quite right. Alright, look: It's not the best analogy, but I've got other things on my mind than poetry.

She is cute, though -- shut up brain!

"That's..." I don't know what to say. At least Arma seems as perple- like she doesn't mind, "...interesting. Yeah." I need to fix this. Tearing my eyes away from Arma's gaze is difficult - her face is beautiful and I could look at it all day - but this is important. Glancing down at my phone, I re-open the Reality Prompt app and... Tsk.

Once per subject, huh? Of course. Of course I can't just fix things or take it back. There had to be a catch somewhere. Alright. Fine. I'll just have to make things up to her as best I can the normal way, starting with being the best damn summoner she's ever had.

Steeling myself and giving Arma the best smile I can, I start rambling about everything and nothing, trying to not only answer her question but preempt any others she may have. I talk long enough my throat starts to feel dry, but that doesn't matter compared to assuaging this guilt and entertaining my lady... Then she suddenly interrupts with a soft, surprised, "Oh!" and I stop short and panic. Did I say something wrong?

"I know, why don't we talk in the garden?" Arma asks calmly, before abruptly taking my hand and guiding me gently away. I nearly trip, my clumsy feet incapable of matching her elegant stride... so she graciously lifts me up into her arms in a bridal carry without missing a step and continues on her way.

"Arma, wh-" I start, but she shushes me before I can finish, so I naturally acquiesce and remain quiet. She'll definitely answer when I need her to, so there's no need for me to make a mess of things by speaking out of turn.

"Don't worry," Arma says soothingly, "I just want us to have a nice date."

I nod to myself. That makes perfect sense: Perfectly reasonable reason to interrupt a perfectly good conversation to swoop me away in a perfectly romantic gesture and resume our date elsewhere... wait. Shouldn't I be the one holding her in this scenario?

I've little time to contemplate that thought before Arma seems to dive through the honest-to-God window and take me with her. By the time I realize we weren't peppered with shards of glass, we're in a tower and she's locking a hatch on the ground below us. Which we didn't use to get here, somehow. Did we just... fly?

"Arma what..." A hundred follow-ups to that question race through my mind. All too quickly for me to pick one. "...what?"

"Daddy was going to interrupt our date," Arma magnanimously explains, "but we haven't even gotten to play yet!" She stamps her foot on the ground in a perfectly reasonable display of indignation, "Don't you want to play with me?" She asks suggestively.

"I..." I blink. I... want to make things up to her, definitely. But isn't it a little too fast to be getting at what she's suggesting? But why would it be? She's a succubus: I literally just got done warping the very fabric of her being - and world - specifically to toy with her. Isn't it a little late to be getting cold feet? Of course it is. "I absolutely want to play with you."

And it's true. It's absolutely, unquivocally true. My eyes hungrily drift down Arma's busty tits, and on toward the bottom of her leotard, where its maidenhead is clearly outlined. There are so many things I definitely want to try with this demon. Why else would I have done what I'd done, if not to create a sexy toy?

My thoughts blur as the succubus keeps talking, voice drifitng like sweet notes into and through my ears. What was I waiting for again? Does it matter? Of course it doesn't. I should just stop thinking so hard and stick my dick in already. Why did I even need an invitation? A good rutting's the only romance a succubus needs.

With animalistic need, I feel my dick strain against my cloth and - annoyed - pull it free. Then I tackle my mistress and our 'romance' begins, just as she desired. Just as she deserves. As my seed enters her body, the pact is sealed. I know now: She is mine.

[AN: And here we have the other half of the scenario.]