Story: THE LATEST NEWS FROM OVERSEX

Posted by C on January 01, 2003 at 11:28:24:

Our story takes place in Middlestroke, a tony suburb northwest of London. In Madame Sesostris' Salon, the ladies were enjoying a favorite morning ritual. They sat back in comfortable recliners, while a herd of human serving women saw to their hair, nails, makeup, perfume, and anything else that occurred to them. Every succubus in Middlestroke was present that morning. Molly Morgoth was there, a winsome redhead who favored yellow miniskirts and heels; also Lilith Lecherall, a brunette pixie in pink, and Cynthia Saddlebottom, a full-breasted blonde who always wore light green. Madame Sesostris, a black-haired gypsy succubus, bustled here and there in her blood-red mini and black pumps. And one mustn't forget auburn-haired Lady Parchpain, the leader of this little community. She sat in the corner, in the most comfortable chair, as an attendant sprayed just a touch of eau de vampire on her well-proportioned bosom. This morning, the Lady's mini and pumps were cobalt blue. (As often was the case, everyone wore white blouses, to set off the brilliant hues of their skirts and heels.)

Lady Parchpain shoved the attendant aside and jumped up from her chair. "Oh, I'm just so tired of cobalt!" she said. She snapped a finger, and her skirt and shoes turned bright orange. "What do you all think?"

"Well," said Molly, "it's, ah, very bright."

"Quite," said Cynthia.

"Quite bright," Lilith agreed.

"Oh, bugger off, all of you!" snapped Lady Parchpain. But she quietly changed back to blue. "Now where's that stupid girl? I want more scent! Get over here, you!"

The attendant had been cowering behind her Ladyship's chair. Now, reluctantly, she came forward with her bottle. "Give me a little right here," said her mistress, lifting her skirt to her waist. She had on Panties of Power, with a silver Tetragram stitched on the front. (She was the only succubus in Middlestroke with the authority to wear them.) The girl sprayed her liberally about the groin. "Mmmmm," said her Ladyship, "that's it." She breathed deeply, sighed with delight, then let her hem drop. Just then, she noticed the television set. It was on, but with the volume down. It had been tuned to Succubus Program 1, and the words "NEWS BULLETIN" now flashed across the screen.

"Oh, I want to hear that," said her Ladyship, and she waved her right hand at the screen. The volume suddenly went up. A pretty brunette newsreader, seated at a desk with papers in her hand, was saying, in a calm, professional voice: ". . . the latest news from Oversex. Several sources (all of them humans in our service) have confirmed it now: a devastating attack by what appear to be Hounds of Hengest." (At this, the women in the salon all gasped.) "Nothing has been heard from the Oversex coven in several hours, and all are feared lost. Every coven is ordered to be on Red Alert Prime. As soon as we have more news, we shall . . . wait! This just in. A sighting of Hounds at Pumpmee Bottoms. That's five miles south of Oversex as the crow flies. As at Oversex, witnesses are reporting at least twenty of the big beasts. It seems they have attacked again. No succubus from Pumpmee Bottoms has been heard from, so we must once more fear the worst. When asked to speculate, experts on the Hounds have suggested that they may be headed for London. Remain at Red Alert Prime, and stay tuned to this channel for further bulletins." With that, the telly returned to the regularly scheduled program: a discussion of Welsh conjunctions.

"Oh this is dreadful!" said Cynthia. "What shall we do?"

"Go to Red Alert Prime, of course," said Lady Parchpain. "That means keeping our eyes open and our ears pricked up. Oh, and I need to charge up my panties as well." She reached beneath her skirt and pressed the tetragram. Soon a low hum could be heard. "Marvelous; just another few minutes."

"Surely we should do . . . some other things as well?" said Molly.

"No, no," said her Ladyship dismissively. "I've read the Handbook."

"Very well," said Molly, but her doubts were not allayed. "Do you think it's likely . . . what they said about London?"

Lady Parchpain nodded: "Very likely, I should say. That's our power centre, after all. That's one reason I'm not too worried about us; I don't think we're likely to be the focus of attention. But let's wait and see." She ordered the servants to bring refreshments, and they all sat down to await further developments.

More bulletins came on, and with each one, it seemed clearer and clearer: the Hounds were headed straight for London. After Pumpmee Bottoms, they attacked Pantywaist, then descended on Upper Cleavage, then ravaged Intercourse, just two miles north of the City. Every site was well to the east of Middlestroke. The women began to breathe a little easier.

"Oh dear, I am hoping London will be all right!" said Madame Sesostris.

"I wouldn't worry too much," said Lady Parchpain, sipping a cappuccino. "The Hounds are quite overwhelming in their first onslaught, but they tire soon, and their magic quickly dissipates. In fact, they should be running out of steam right about now. Of course a few minor covens are a real loss . . . but we'll rebuild."

About an hour later, there was another news flash: the Hounds had entered the City. Everyone was silent for a while.

Another hour, and the next bulletin came on. The pretty newsreader was the same as all the times before, but she looked different: tired and afraid. "It's worse than we thought," she said. "Hounds are attacking everywhere. We have reports from . . . ." Suddenly there was a loud crash. The newsreader screamed and jumped up. "What's that?" she said. A confused jumble of female voices could be heard in the background. "What's that?" she said again. "Anybody know . . . ?" Then she looked to her side and screamed once more. "No!" she cried. "No! It can't be . . . !" Then something big and black seized her and forced her onto her desk. With a twist of his head, the Hound (for that's what it was) stripped off her blue mini. Then he forced his muzzle between her madly kicking legs. His jaws closed, and her scream now was much louder-full of hurt and desolation, as well as fear.

More screams could be heard in the studio. The camera began to lurch back and forth; then, suddenly, it swung round 160 degrees. Everywhere, succubi were running, shrieking, being brought down. In the foreground on the floor, a shapely East Asian trembled and writhed while a Hound pulled her blood-spotted panties past her heels. As they came off, she wailed: "My panties! My panties! Aaahhh, my . . . ." Just then, the picture turned to static.

"Dark Lord and all his minions!" cried Madame Sesostris. "What shall we do?" Her face was drawn and pale, and her breasts were heaving beneath her blouse. Cynthia ran up to her and made her sit down in one of her chairs.

"So they're swarming all over London, are they?" said her Ladyship. "What extraordinary staying power. Well, I'll bet the studio didn't have the best defenses. They're in for it, now, those beasts!"

"What are you talking about?" said Lilith.

"The studio in London. We just saw the attack, you silly goose!"

"The studio isn't in London, you twit! It broadcasts from Prixton."

"Prixton? But that's ten miles west of us."

"Yes, you idiot!" Lilith was shouting now. "They're not attacking everywhere in London; they're attacking everywhere in Great Britain! That's what that poor little newsreader meant."

"But . . . but how? How can that be?"

"It doesn't matter how! What matters is doing everything we can to keep our panties on!"

"Oh dear! Oh dear!"

"Get a grip! I trust you're charged up by now?"

"Oh yes; primed and ready to fire."

"Well that's something," said Lilith. She turned to Madame, who was trembling like a sapling in a storm. "Madame, I know you're upset, but you need to keep it together for a bit and help us all. There are metal barriers, aren't there, that can be pulled own over the big window here and the front and back doors?"

"Y-yes."

"Can they be locked from the inside?"

"Yes."

"Would you give Molly and Cynthia the keys, so they can take care of all that?"

Madame pulled a set of keys out from between her breasts and handed them to Cynthia. "Be careful, girls," said Lilith. "We will," said Molly, and off they went to secure the building.

"Now Madame, are there any exits or apertures that can't be barred?"

"Not on the ground floor. No."

"Good girl. And how do we get to the top floor?"

Madame pointed to a curtain in one corner of the room.

"Is there a door there that can be locked?"

Madame nodded and pulled another key out of her decolletage. She gave this to Lilith.

"Excellent, you're doing very well, dear."

"I . . . I try. But I am in . . . grave fear now as to the . . . the fate of my panties!"

"Oh, these excitable foreigners!" Lady Parchpain snapped.

Lilith glared at her Ladyship and said: "We're all afraid, dear. We're all afraid."

Molly and Cynthia came back and reported that the gates were in place.

"All right," said Lilith. "Now, Lady Parchpain, you've spoken as if you actually know something about these Hounds. I'd like an answer to this question: Are they good climbers?"

"Not at all, my dear. They're big, and heavy, and ungainly. Definitely earthbound. They can't even climb stairs. More than one succubus has escaped them by a timely dash to a higher storey."

"Great. They won't be coming in from the top floor, and we can retreat there if they get in at ground level. Nothing to do now but wait."

The wait was a short one. Within just a few minutes, they could hear a loud baying. Molly gave a little shriek when it started. Madame Sesostris began to cry. All the women felt a strange, feathery tingling in their groins.

"Just be very quiet, everybody," said Lilith. "Very quiet."

Suddenly, they heard a rattling, metallic noise. "What's that?" said Lilith.

"Someone's pulling the gate back up! The one to the back door!" cried Cynthia.

"The servants! We forgot about the servants!" Lilith ran from the main room of the salon down a hall to the back of the building. The gate was up, the door stood wide open, and a Hound was poking his nose through the doorway. Feeling a dreadful chill at the base of her tummy, Lilith dashed back the way she'd come.

"The servants have let them in!" she cried. "Everybody, start heading upstairs! She pulled aside the curtain as she said this and opened the door behind it. She sent Madame through first, then Molly, then Cynthia. She now saw that Lady Parchpain wasn't budging.

"Lady Parchpain! Come on!"

"I want to blast the first one that comes into the room," her Ladyship said. As she spoke, she raised her skirt and faced the door to the hallway.

"All right, dear, but head for the stairs the moment you're finished!"

Just then, a Hound came barging and blundering into the room. Lady Parchpain pressed the firing mechanism on her Panties of Power. Unfortunately for her, the eau de vampire the servant had sprayed there that morning had shorted out an important component. Instead of shooting a killing burst of ectoplasm at the Hound, the panties sent a powerful jolt right into her vulva. She screamed and fell unconscious to the floor. Lilith ducked behind the door to the stairs and frantically locked it. Then up she went as fast as she could. When she got to the top, she found the others huddling in Madame's spacious boudoir.

"Lady Parchpain?" said Molly.

Lilith just shook her head. "All right everybody," she said, "I hope her Ladyship was right about their lack of climbing skills, but let's not leave it to chance." They found three dressers of manageable size and, with much stress and strain, wrestled them down the steps and against the door. Then, exhausted, they fell back on Madame's king-size bed. They waited there for what seemed like forever. No sound came up from below.

"Could they have gone away?" said Molly.

"I'd love it if they did," said Lilith, "but I doubt it. Let's just stay put."

Several more minutes went by. "Perhaps I can see something from these windows," Lilith said. She walked carefully up to one of them and peeked past the curtain. She had a view into the park across the street from the salon. Four Hounds were standing there, about a hundred feet away. As she watched, they started bounding toward the salon, two in front and two behind. What are they up to? she wondered. Soon they were half way across the street. Then the beasts in front leapt into the air. Lilith shrieked and threw herself on the floor.

The windows of Madame's boudoir shattered as two Hounds came crashing into the room. These were followed immediately by two others. Molly, Cynthia, and Madame all cried out pitiably as three of the big dogs pushed them down on the bed. In no time at all, they were stripped of their skirts. The monsters held the women in place with their paws as they sought out the soft band of panty between each one's thighs. Their victims twisted and kicked, but it made not a bit of difference. Their screams when they were bitten were the very essence of heartbreak.

Huddled on the floor, Lilith looked up into the face of the fourth Hound. Whimpering, she tried to inch away, but the dog just shoved her down, then turned her on her back.

In quick succession, she was stripped and bitten; and she, too, screamed in bitter despair.

When she came to, Lilith felt a breeze on her face. Groaning a little, she looked around and realized that she was lying on the street in front of the Salon. Lined up next to her were Molly, Cynthia, Madame, and Lady Parchpain, all still unconscious. The women were on their backs, with their hands at their sides. Their miniskirts were gone, of course, but their panties-dabbed with blood now --had not yet been taken down. Lady Parchpain's had a big scorch mark in front. Lilith felt a tremulous, achy itch in her groin where the Hound had bitten her. She tried to get up, but couldn't. She couldn't even raise her arms. "Alas, I don't think this is a bad dream," she said.

She looked beyond her immediate environs and saw that a crowd had gathered about twenty feet away. It seemed to consist mostly of their servants and retainers. "I gather," said Lilith to herself, "that they're not going to help us."

Within a few minutes, the other women came to groggy wakefulness. Madame spoke first: "I live for many years on the continent. So many succubus hunters there, they are

. . . tripping over one another. So I come to England, and . . . and it is here I am caught! Such irony, eh?" She began to cry, and Cynthia took hold of her hand.

"My . . . boyfriend just named me in his will," said Cynthia. "I was . . . going to drain his blood this weekend. It . . . doesn't seem fair, somehow!" And she started crying, too.

"Get it all out of your systems, dears," said Molly. "I feel exactly the same. I had almost clawed my way. . . to the top of my company. All that blackmail and extortion (not to mention the murders) . . . for nothing, it seems!" And she joined her weeping to theirs.

"Why aren't those fools coming to our assistance?" said Lady Parchpain. "And where are the . . . the . . . ."

"Hounds?" said Lilith. "I'm guessing, but here's . . . how I'd answer those questions. The servants aren't helping us . . . because they know they don't have to any more. The Hounds have left, because they know we're not . . . not going anywhere. I imagine they're looking for other succubi. And when they're done . . . ."

"Don't!" said her Ladyship. "Please don't say those ghastly creatures are coming back! Please!"

"Dear," said Lilith, "you really must get a hold of your . . . ."

"I haven't gone crazy! I haven't! I know they are coming back. I just don't want you to say it! Just don't say it! Do you understand? In all my time as a succubus I've wondered: when will it happen? When will my . . . panties come down for good? I felt I . . . couldn't bear it when it happened . . . and I can't! I just can't! Do you understand?" And she began to sob uncontrollably.

"Yes, dear, I understand." Lilith sighed then and said: "I have my own reasons for regret and bitterness. I won't go into them here. Suffice it to say . . . I could have spread more mayhem among humankind. I do so hate them . . . especially the men! I'm no more ready to be caught . . . than the rest of you. But I . . . I won't cry just yet. Not yet."

"Oh let it go, dear," said Molly, who was still sniffling. "Why wait for . . . panty-tugging time? Let it all go now!"

"No . . . not yet. Soon. I won't surrender till I absolutely must!"

Just then, the crowd began to clap and cheer. The Hounds had returned. Madame and her Ladyship fell into new spasms of weeping. Molly and Cynthia turned to each other and kissed. The Hounds came up to their splendid catch, then sat on their haunches, one near each woman's feet.

"How did you become so powerful?" Lilith asked. "Can't I know why I've . . . been destroyed?" No sound or movement from the dogs.

Finally, with no warning, they struck, with a speed hard to credit in animals so large. They were, strangely enough, gentle. Each seized the front of a pair of panties and barely grazed the skin beneath. The women's legs were free to move, so they twisted and frantically kicked, but it did no good. Their pants were all tugged past their toes, then deposited on the asphalt. The crowd roared its approval.

"Disloyal scum!" her Ladyship hissed, then returned to her weeping. Her blue heels continued to kick.

"Oh, my panties!" Madame cried. "Surely it is bitter . . . this panty-tugging time!" Her black heels kept on kicking.

"And my panties!" Cynthia wailed. "We put them on this morning, not knowing, without a clue . . . that before this day was past, they'd be down forever! Oh what a fate! What a hurtful, unkind fate!" Her green heels kicked alongside Madame's.

"My panties, too!" Molly sobbed. "Utterly vanquished! Utterly undone! Depantied before we've consummated . . . one quarter of our plans! Some clever man . . . unleashed his dogs (curse him and every other man!), and now we must kick our lives away!" And her yellow heels underscored the point, kicking along with the others.

Stripped of their cover, the hairless pussies of the succubi had caught the crowd's attention. Lilith could hear men-and women-laughing and joking about just this subject. She felt an overwhelming shame, and in her head she totted it up with everything else: her fear and grief; the sting of the dogs' teeth, attended by a nearly unbearable tightness in her tummy and groin; a ceaseless trembling from crown to toe-plus a powerful urge to pee. "All right," she said to the dogs, "you win. You win!" The tears burst from her eyes in a torrent, and in the very same moment her bladder let go. "Caught!" she cried. "I'm caught! And I'm afraid! It's our kicky time, our panty-tugging time!" (And she did kick, thrusting her pink heels again and again at the Hound who sat just beyond her reach.) "Whoever you are who brought this to pass . . . I hate you! I join my curse to Molly's! I call down all the vengeance of the Dark Lord upon you! And upon all men! For surely . . . it was a man who did this! They love to take our panties down! Oh, caught! I'm caught! I'm caught!" Then bitter heartache reduced her and the others to speechless sobbing

The Hounds waited for several minutes, then bent down and nipped each pussy. The succubi all shrieked, of course, and their kicking grew more frantic. Their captors lapped up whatever juices spurted out, then nipped them again. More shrieks. From then on, it was nip and lick, nip and lick, till fatal tremors began to wrack each wounded cunt. The women came again and again, groaning with the pain and pleasure of each climax. Then, at last, they were through.

Thus were brought to justice five wicked ladies of Middlestroke.

Having lit up a cigar, Lord Lechley settled back in his leather armchair and spoke: "So Mycroft, how did you pull off this miracle: crippling losses for succubi throughout Great Britain?"

"Elementary, my dear Lechley." Mycroft, also seated, took a big puff on his pipe and continued. "You recall the Prime Minister's last moments, I trust."

"Mmm, yes. They were delicious-I mean, dreadful."

"Quite. Well, I knew that she was connected by . . . lines, if you will, of psychic-ectoplasmic energy, with every coven on the island."

"Yes?"

"Well, the Hounds feed not just on the bodies, but on the psychic energy of their victims-their fear and arousal, in particular. The trick here was to enable the Hound that bagged the PM to seize hold of those lines as it fed. Then, the beast could be used as a kind of projector-a projector that could only be effective if all the power of every white magician in Britain were concentrated upon it."

"And how was that possible?"

"We have a professional association. I made the necessary calls beforehand, and all of us were ready at the proper time. We had our window of opportunity: from the capture of the PM to the last twitching of her pretty legs. We performed the necessary incantations, crossed our fingers, and it worked! At great cost to us, I should say: we shall not be able to muster effective magic again for months. But it was worth it: a great burst of lethal power traveled down the lines."

"And manifested itself as hundreds of new Hounds-with their strength and endurance greatly augmented! Brilliant!"

"Actually, we didn't know how it would manifest itself; just that it could, if we were lucky, make a bunch of succubi turn their toes up at the other end. And so it did."

"Is Britain finally free of this scourge?"

"No. The magic was imperfect, of course. Not every coven was attacked, and there were some survivors from those that were. By now, they'll have closed off this particular avenue against them. And they'll be lusting (really the only word for it) for revenge. But we've badly hurt them, and if we're wise, we'll stay on the attack."

"Whatever I can do to assist you . . . ." said Lord Lechley.

"I'll gladly let you know," said Mycroft.