Come to Me, continues, part three

Samira dove into Nicolae's thoughts and memories, searching for the keys to his fantasies and secret desires.
Sordan: "Mind rape!"

She had to swim past scene after scene of violent battle and angry men, dark village streets and flaming torches.
The Balance: "Maybe he's into angry men..."
The Anthropologist: "Maybe homosexuality does exist. It's just that the conservative demons don't notice it and mistake them for dominance rituals. Like with Primatologists."

He was so dark inside, so lost within horrors.
Sordan: "I see your angst!"
Big L: "This book is just the biggest wangst fest ever."

And besides, there was no man alive who didn't have desire living within him, whether it was desire for women, men, the switch to one's bottom, a woman's dirty chemise, bare feet, farm animals, something.
The Chronicler: "That's an odd list."
The Balance: "Maybe she should add a footnote: See the internet."
(The Chronicler: "So they do acknowledge homosexuality. But the sex demons just don't cater to it.")

It led her to the outer edge of his darkness and then disappeared behind a black wall. Samira felt over the surface of the wall, looking for some small crevice in which she could dig her fingers ...
Sordan: "Eeew!"
Big L: "That's just dodgy..."
Pillywiggin: "She metaphorically fingering her ass."

...but the wall was smooth and impenetrable. She tried to force her way straight through its surface.
Sordan: "That's definitely rape."
Lady Miriam: "So she is fisting him. In his sleep."
The Balance: "Or trying too."

She'd often come across such barriers, in men who for one reason or another didn't want to allow themselves the freedom of their sexuality.
The Anthropologist: "She's not raping him, children. She's freeing his sexuality."
Pillywiggin: "Ass rape sexual repression wall!"

She wrinkled her nose, annoyed with the wall...
The Loinfire Club wrinkles their noses, annoyed at this metaphor.
The Anthropologist: "She is very blond... I'm getting image of the girl in Clueless."

She was here to help the man, and look at the obstacles he put up. The only time a wall like this was worth anything was when the desires of a man were evil.
Sordan: "But she's a demon!"
The Anthropologist: "She's a sex angel. But you can't write about those.... we've been through this."

She chewed her bottom lip. Might Nicolae's wishes be evil?
(The Chronicler: "She's ready to do dreams of a paedophilic incestuous orgy with bestial overtones and questionable consent. What could possibly be more evil?")

She'd just have to go around it, using her own creativity to build a dream for Nicolae, and hoping she hit upon something he liked.
Big L: "What? Kitten heads."

A classic fantasy would be a good, safe place to start. The favorite of most men, of course, was the innocent girl behaving like a sex-starved wench. It rarely failed to please.
The Anthropologist: "Except Dragosh."
Big L: "You never know. He might be good for random chick who isn't his sister."

She created a dream self for Nicolae: the burns were gone, and he stood strong and vibrant at the edge of a meadow [...]As he did so, he noticed that he was not limping. His mind tossed the incongruity back and forth, and his dream self lifted his left hand in front of his face. It was unscarred. He frowned at it, and his mind started to tell him that this was not real, this was a fantasy.
Luca: "I cope with far worse incongruity than that in my dreams!"

Nothing was going to disturb Nicolae, except…
Sordan: "Oh the poor ellipsis!"
The Chronicler: "Ellipsis are female. They regularly get gangraped by the phallic hyphens."
The Balance: "Don't forget the slash."

Nicolae loped across the meadow toward it...
Big L: "Are we getting wolves? I can feel it from the loping..."
...his stride as smooth and strong as a wolfs.
Big L: "Win!"

A dozen yards through the trees, a young girl in kerchief and richly embroidered blouse passed by. Samira gave in to vanity and gave the girl her own face and figure, her own red hair and blue eyes.
Nicolae stalked in quiet pursuit of the dream Samira.
The Anthropologist: "Rape!"

Samira felt a flush of embarrassment at giving in to the impulse to give the girl her own name. But why not? she asked herself.
Sordan: "It's like writing self insertion fanfic in someone else's head."
Lady Miriam: "You could almost spell Mary Sue out of the letters in Samira."

There were no rules against enjoying the fantasy herself.
Lady Miriam: "You're a demon! I thought that was the point."
The Anthropologist: "Unless they are bureaucracy devils who make you fill out a forms before you are allowed to enjoy yourself...
The Balance: Could be a bit problematic if you have to fill in another form to enjoy filling out the first form. You would get some kind of bureaucratic infinity.
The Anthropologist: I'm going to make you dream about filling out forms... and some of them have subclauses."

The girl glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of the voices, and saw Nicolae. She sucked in a breath in surprise, her creamy cheeks flushing a virginal pink.
Sordan: "I'm trying to imagine it as a crayon that colour now."
The Chronicler: "Or even a Games Workshop colour?"

She looked down, lashes falling heavy on her cheeks, and fiddled with the handle of her basket. "I do not wish to answer." She glanced up at him through her lashes, then back down again. "The nuns keep such close watch on me every hour. Time alone is rare, and precious."
Lady Miriam: "She's giving him a bad porn dream."
Sordan: "At least we know this is a parody of this sort of scene, right?"

"And dangerous. Do you not know what lurks in the forest?"
Sordan: "I lurk in the forest!"
Big L: "Me and my huge penis."

Nicolae frowned. "An unusual name."
A smile flashed across her lips, even as she glanced, worried, in the direction of the unseen nuns. "Yes. It means 'She who entertains.'"
"Does it?" he said, and he stepped closer. The frown was still between his brows.
The Balance: "I dream of buttsex! What is this woman doing in my dream?!"

Summer solstice! Samira cursed silently.
The Anthropologist: "And we need a new category for stupid swear words."

Why can he not just enjoy this?
The Anthropologist: "There's something really wrong about this... it's like if a someone's girlfriend who really liked slashfic isn't content with reading it herself, and could somehow force their partner to sit through all the slashfic they've read during the day in their dreams."

Big L: "She can't even get it on in the dream she makes? How sucky is she?"
The Chronicler: "Why does he have free will in his own dream anyway?"

The silent pursuit drew up deep predator/prey urges from within him, his blood heating with the need to possess the girl.
The Anthropologist: "Ah, popular psychology. And that slash..."
The Chronicler: "Are we developing some sort of punctuation fetish?"

The power of speech was quickly abandoning Nicolae's dream self, his animal instincts rising to the fore. His eyes went to the neckline of the girl's blouse and stayed there, his mind torn between wanting to watch her and wanting to pull her to the ground and plant himself between her damp thighs.
Big L: "She looks so innocent! I want to rape her!"

The girl untied her blouse and touched the dewy skin above her breasts. "I wish I could lie down in that water," she said. "It would feel so good, rushing over my skin. So cool. It's tempting, don't you think?"
The Anthropologist: "Is this the opposite of I'm not a Slut?"

"You won't hurt me, though, will you?" she asked, wide eyes looking up at him, full of innocence.
The Chronicler: "Not really. She's seducing him by being innocently seductive. Unaware that her actions may be construed as sexual..."

"I would not mind if you wanted to do that," he managed to say.
The Anthropologist: "You have my permission to be naked."

Samira muttered in frustration. What was this? Nobility? The wench was begging to be taken. What was wrong with him? Samira felt a sting of rejection, as if it was she herself he did not find tempting enough to take advantage of.
Sordan: "I'm so ugly! Why don't men want to rape me?"

Nicolae's desire was doubling and trebling, pushing him down the path toward release, and creating an echo of delight in her own ethereal body.
Big L: "Oh no! Think of all the positive feedback loop situations we can end up with!"

The innocent-girl-gone-wild fantasy never failed to push a man to the brink. Never!
The Balance: "It's one of the universal cultural norms..."
The Anthropologist winces in obvious distress.

"Take me," the girl begged. "I want you to be the first. Take me, quickly, before they find us."
Nicolae's desire froze. It went cold within him, the burning heat of it flaming out.
The Anthropologist: "He only wants rape! She's consenting!"
Pillywiggin: "They don't teach that to you in self defence classes, do they? How to pretend to consent when faced with a rapist.

Talk now meanders through the different ways recommended to discourage rapists, such as talking about their mothers and vomiting.

He stared at the face of the girl—at Samira's face—and suddenly shoved her away from him.
"No!"
The Balance: "He was up for rape, but consensual sex..."

Tremors ran through his body, and a sick, nauseated feeling was uncoiling in his gut.
It was fear, Samira realized. What in night's blazing stars was wrong with him?
The Anthropologist: "He's scared of women who want to have sex at him."

"They won't find us," the girl said, and Samira put all her power behind the words. "It's all right. They won't find us."
The Anthropologist: "They won't find the bodies afterwards either if that's what you're worried about."

Maybe it wasn't the threat of intruders that was scaring him. Samira cursed that black wall that had hidden his innermost desires from her. There was something back there that scared him to death.
Could he be a virgin, terrified of humiliation?
The Anthropologist: "Or maybe he's terrified of consensual sex."

The girl pulled his fear-flaccid member out from under his clothes and licked her lips.
Big L: "It's the Limp Moment!"
Sordan: "I can't believe it! It's page 40."

There is much lamentation over the newly poured drinks (we use pint glasses)...

The Anthropologist: "That's really unusual for it to be with the heroine. But still, it's the same principle. It was prompted by a sexually aggressive female."
The Chronicler: "Women just aren't allowed to be forward."
Pillywiggin: "Maybe she should just produced a gagged woman tied to the table or something. Save time."

She looked up at him with wide eyes and shivered in delight. "You're so big!"
Lady Miriam: "Were your previous lovers hamsters, darling?"
The Balance: "Hamsters are quite well hung if you compare it to body mass."
Lady Miriam: "Gorillas, then."

The grass around them darkened and turned to a stone floor. Walls appeared, and angry, unseen men began shouting, their weapons clanging as they ran by outside, orange torchlight flickering through an uncovered window.
Sordan: "Return of the Angst!"

The doubts were again crowding his mind, the magic acceptance of dreams dissipating. Logic was taking over. He frowned at the girl, and then recognition hit. "You!"
Big L: "Damn Logic."

Samira grimaced, and quickly changed the girl's appearance. Now she had shoulder-length black hair, and was taller and heavier, her breasts full and ripe.
Sordan: "Ewww!"
The Balance: "Ripe for the picking!"
The Chronicler: "Like in the song of solomon"

There was only one thing to do: bring on the harem.
The Chronicler: "Yay! Girl-on-girl!"

Each woman was unique, as if she'd been plucked from a different corner of the globe, and yet each one was equally hungry for the touch of a man.
Sordan: "Each member of my harem is a snowflake."

"Nicolaaeeee," a blonde called, reaching out her arm toward him as she writhed in frustrated desire on the floor. "Please, Nicolaaeeee…" She touched herself between her legs, her eyes closing as she arched her neck in pleasure.
Pillywiggin: "She's really bad at reading people for a three millennia old demon."

Yes! Samira had him now! The stronger his desire grew, the more strength she had to make the dream vivid, and the harder it should be for him to break free.
Big L: "Aha! The positive feedback loop."

Twin girls from India lolled together on a carpet, one licking the other's breasts.
The Balance: "Twincest girl-on-girl!"

A pale, freckled Scot massaged oil over her own body, while an Oriental girl nearby fondled an ivory phallus...
The Anthropologist: "At least it’s not jade."

The imp of vanity came back to life inside Samira as Nicolae moved toward the Nubian. She didn't want to watch him enjoy himself with one of these women; she wanted to watch him make eager, frantic love to someone who looked like her.
Pillywiggin: "This is just really bad self insertion fanfiction."

In the center of the room Samira created a dais, upon which was a tall marble bench: an altar, almost, draped with silks in burgundy and gold. Sitting in the center of the bench was Samira's double, wingless and naked, scarlet hair flowing in waves down her body and marking the entrance to her sex. Samira made the details fade on all the other women in the room and pooled the light around her double.
The Anthropologist: "And a flashing neon sign above her with many more arrows pointing to her cunt."

A feeling of raunchy wickedness flowed through him, a wild urge to invade and possess.
Big L: "Raypes! Invade and Possess..."

He bowed his head down to the garnet curls.
The Anthropologist: "Garnet?! That has to be uncomfortable."
Pillywiggin: "She has very strange hair colour ideas, this author."

His sense of mastery and control made his erection an almost unbearable burden...
The Chronicler: "Again with the dominant male raypes..."

As she made the girl contort in pleasure, though, she wished she knew firsthand what a woman would feel as a man like Nicolae lapped at her sex.
(The Chronicler: "Why? Shouldn't she be wondering what it would feel like lapping at a woman since she's feeling his pleasure at the act?")

The head of his erection pressed against the dream Samira's damp entrance, the muscles of her sex contracting in butterfly kisses against his flesh.
Big L: "Dodgy animal comment, even if it’s only butterflies..."

When Nicolae reached his climax, Samira would get a charge of energy: It was what kept the succubi in existence. The pleasure of men was their food, their sustenance. But as hungry as Samira was for it, there was something else she wanted from Nicolae first.
Sordan: "Oh no! The ego got the better of her again."

Her double on the bench met Nicolae's gaze. "Say my name," she said.
The Balance: "You're a random in my endless harem... pass the form, eunuch. You're Virgin Number 42. I have your shipping number, if you want it?"

"I don't know it," he said, voice hoarse, as against his volition his hips pressed him once again toward her.
Pillywiggin: "And we're back to rape."

Part of Nicolae tried to think, but his body had precedence, locking him inside the animal instinct to mate. Animals had no names, only flesh meeting flesh, need meeting need. "
The Anthropologist: "She's making him think!"

He was not one to force himself upon a wench, but all men had their limits.
The Balance: "I don't normally rape wenches but I'll make an exception for you!"

She arched against him then, her hips angling to draw him inside. As he slid home, he said her name again, "Samira."
Sordan: "You IDIOT Fail!demon."

And stopped, eyes widening. He stared down at the girl in horror: at her eyes, at her hair, at her mouth.
Sordan: "This book has had nothing but graphic sex and emo."

"God damn you, no!" he shouted, and wrenched himself away.
Big L: "DO NOT WANT!"

Samira was too stunned to react for a long moment, and then the hurt and humiliation again set in. Even in the throes of the strongest passion he'd felt in all his life, the thought of her was enough to revolt him.
The Anthropologist: "He's doesn't want to rape me! No!"
Sordan: "Doesn't that count as I am not a slut on Nicolae's part?"

Embarrassed beyond bearing, Samira reached throughout his mind and broke the bonds of memory to the dream she had created for him, so that he would remember nothing of it when he woke.
Sordan: "She can do that?!"

Nicolae had turned his attention to the distant battle, his dream self decked out in armor, a sword in his fist. He was shouting for his men.
The Anthropologist: "She should bring in an incubus if it's men his after."

Never had Samira failed so spectacularly. Never had a man so thoroughly resisted her wiles, rejected her proffered pleasures. It was as plain as the full moon to her that the reason he had done it was because of who and what she was. He'd been enjoying himself in the harem until she'd put her own face there among the humans.
Sordan: "He's probably just really religious and fears for his soul."
The Anthropologist: "He was quite happy wanking to a demonological text."

What a fool she had been, to seek even a moment's attention from a mortal man. He would never see her as anything but a loathsome creature.
Lady Miriam: "Well, if she hadn't been such a twit and brought in her name..."

From outside the tower she looked back in the window.
Big L: "Let's not forget the tower is a giant penis."

She wanted him to say her name and ask her what her deepest fears and wishes were. But that was not the way of the succubi. It went against every premise of their existence.
Sordan: "She's such an emo kid."
The Anthropologist: "I'm putting another tick in the Sex Angels column.... "

Why then did Samira want it so? And why was it so clearly impossible to have?
The Anthropologist: "She's incredibly commitment desperate. It's something like a first date and she wants him to propose."

With a whimper of distress, she pushed off from the outer wall of the tower and slipped away into the Night World. She was going back where she belonged.
And so the chapter ends, amid complaints of "This is so bad!" and "So much retarded sex!"