MEETING DEMON SPIRITS: LILITH SUCCUBUS & INCUBUS (PTSD DREAMS)
IN
LILITH'S NAME
CREATED
BY
J. BECK
2025
MEETING
DEMON SPIRITS:
LILITH
SUCCUBUS & INCUBUS
(PTSD DREAMS)
Midnight
In a Forgotten Cemetery
The air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying roses, the overgrown gothic cemetery bathed in the pale glow of a waning moon.
Weathered tombstones leaned like drunken sentinels, and ivy choked the cracked marble statues.
At the center stood a peculiar sculpture—a pregnant Madonna, her serene face eternally calm, yet her gown carved low enough to reveal the swell of full breasts, as if the artist had secretly reveled in the blasphemy of fertility intertwined with sanctity.
They arrived just after midnight, materializing from swirling shadows that tasted of brimstone and desire.
First came the Succubi—three of them—each more intoxicating than the last.
Their skin shimmered like polished obsidian under the moonlight, smooth and warm to the touch despite the winter chill.
Bat-like wings folded elegantly against their backs, leathery yet soft, the membranes veined with faint crimson.
Curved horns spiraled from their foreheads, glossy and black, catching the light whenever they tilted their heads.
Long, prehensile tails swayed lazily behind them, tipped with heart-shaped barbs that promised both pleasure and pain.
They wore little: sheer black lace that clung to curves, translucent enough to reveal hardened nipples and the shadowed V between their thighs.
One held a half-empty bottle of deep red wine, drinking straight from the neck, letting rivulets spill down her chin and over her cleavage.
Another drew slowly on a thin cigarette, the cherry glowing as she exhaled a plume of smoke that curled around her horns like incense.
The third sipped from a crystal glass, her forked tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop.
Then the Incubi emerged—four of them—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in tailored black suits that seemed woven from midnight itself.
Their eyes burned with low ember-light, and small ridged horns protruded through perfectly styled hair.
When they smiled, sharp canines glinted. One smoked a thick cigar, the rich tobacco scent mingling with the sulfurous undertone of their presence.
Another cradled a bottle of wine against his chest, thumb stroking the glass neck in slow, suggestive circles.
They gathered in a loose circle around the pregnant Madonna statue, as though paying homage to corrupted motherhood.
Laughter—low, velvet, dangerous—rippled through the night.
A succubus with crimson-streaked hair stepped forward first. She pressed her back against the cool marble of the Madonna’s thigh, wings spreading slightly for balance.
Her tail coiled around the waist of the nearest incubus, tugging him closer. He obliged without hesitation, setting his cigar aside on a nearby tombstone.
His large hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts through the lace.
She arched into the touch, a soft moan escaping her lips—part human, part something deeper, resonant, vibrating through the air like distant thunder.
Another succubus knelt before a seated incubus perched on a fallen angel’s wing. She took a long drag from her cigarette, then leaned in, exhaling smoke directly into his parted lips.
He inhaled deeply, eyes half-lidded, before capturing her mouth in a slow, filthy kiss.
Their tongues tangled visibly, forked tips exploring, tasting wine and smoke and each other. His hand slipped between her thighs, fingers disappearing beneath the lace.
She rocked against his palm, wings trembling, talons scraping lightly over the stone beneath them.
The third succubus straddled an incubus lying atop a moss-covered sarcophagus. She poured wine from her glass over his bare chest—his shirt already unbuttoned and discarded—watching dark liquid trail down sculpted muscle.
Then she lowered her head, licking a slow path from his navel upward, lapping every drop. Her tail wrapped around his thigh, pulling him tighter against her heat.
He groaned, hips bucking, hands gripping her horns like handles as she took him into her mouth with deliberate, worshipful slowness.
Around them, the air grew heavier, charged with the scent of arousal—musk, wine, smoke, and the faint metallic tang of demonic essence.
Every touch left faint red marks that faded almost instantly, as though their skin drank in the contact. Wings rustled like silk. Tails teased and stroked.
Lips bruised with rough kisses. The sound of wet mouths, low growls, and breathy gasps echoed softly among the graves.
One incubus lifted a succubus effortlessly, pressing her back against the Madonna’s swollen belly.
The contrast—cold holy marble against fever-hot demonic flesh—made her hiss in pleasure. He entered her in one smooth thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist, talons digging into his shoulders.
Each movement was deliberate, deep, drawing out gasps that fogged the night air. Her wings flared wide, casting jagged shadows across the statue’s serene face.
They fed slowly, savoring.
Every moan, every clench, every spill of seed or slick essence was a deliberate siphoning—drawing vitality in languid pulses rather than violent drains.
Pleasure so intense it bordered on agony, leaving the giver trembling and euphoric, the receiver sated yet subtly weaker, as though a piece of their soul had been sweetly stolen.
Hours blurred. Bottles emptied. Cigarettes and cigars burned to stubs. Bodies shifted and rearranged—succubi riding incubi, incubi taking succubi from behind, mouths and hands everywhere at once.
The pregnant Madonna watched impassively, moonlight glinting off wine-stained marble breasts, as the demons celebrated life’s darkest, most primal urges beneath her gaze.
When dawn’s first gray light touched the horizon, they began to fade—smoke and shadow reclaiming them.
Final kisses lingered, tasting of smoke & sin. A last caress of tail against thigh.
A whispered promise in a voice like velvet over gravel:
"We'll Return"
…
'When You Dream of Us Again."
The cemetery fell silent once more, save for the soft drip of spilled wine from an abandoned glass and the faint curl of smoke rising from a forgotten cigar.
Only the Madonna remained, eternally pregnant, eternally serene—her stone cleavage glistening with a single crimson droplet that had not been there before.
THE
APOTHEOSIS
OF
LILITH
/əˌpäTHēˈōsəs/
noun
The Highest Point
In a Development Culmination or Climax
The chapel’s air had turned thick as molten honey, saturated with the mingled scents of sweat, brimstone, spilled seed, and the faint iron promise of what was to come. The stained-glass saints above looked down in fractured silence as the veil between realms tore wider.
She—once the tender woman who had first kissed you, now fully enthroned in her true form—rose from the altar. Wings vast and leathery spread to their full span, blotting out the moonlight.
Horns crowned her like an obsidian diadem, tail lashing slow arcs through the incense-heavy air. Her eyes burned crimson-gold, ancient and insatiable.
The incubus beside her knelt first, head bowed, pressing reverent lips to the inside of her thigh where your release still glistened on her skin.
One by one, the others emerged from the shadows—more succubi and incubi, all shifting seamlessly between alluring human beauty and full demonic glory.
They formed a perfect circle around the altar, wings rustling like a dark forest in wind. Every gaze fixed upon her.
“Lilith,” they intoned as one, voices layered—some velvet-soft, some gravel-deep, all vibrating with worship. “First of women. Mother of desire. Queen of the night eternal.”
She smiled, slow and terrible and beautiful, forked tongue tracing sharp teeth. “My children,” she purred, the words stroking every nerve in your body like phantom fingers. “You have prepared the vessel well.”
You realized then that you were no longer merely participant—you were offering.
Strong hands—some clawed, some deceptively human—lifted you, laying you supine across the cold stone once more.
Lilith straddled your hips again, but this time she did not sink down gently. Her heat hovered just above you, teasing, as her tail coiled possessively around your throat—not tight, merely claiming.
The incubi and succubi closed in, mouths and talons tracing worshipful paths over your skin: kisses to your chest, licks along your thighs, teeth grazing your shoulders.
Lilith leaned forward, breasts heavy and warm against you, nipples hard as onyx. She kissed you deeply—tongue forked and clever, tasting every corner of your mouth, drawing out your breath until stars danced behind your eyes. When she pulled back, her lips were stained darker.
“Give yourself to me,” she whispered against your mouth. “All of you. Body, soul, blood, and ecstasy.”
The first cut was delicate—a talon across your chest, just deep enough to well crimson. The pain bloomed sharp and bright, instantly transmuted into white-hot pleasure as her tongue lapped the line of blood, humming in approval.
The others followed: precise, ritual cuts along arms, thighs, throat—never fatal, only enough to paint you in offering. Each bead of blood they caught with mouths or fingers, smearing it across their own bodies in reverent patterns.
Lilith lowered herself onto you at last, taking you fully in one slow, inexorable glide. The heat of her was infernal—tight, slick, pulsing with ancient hunger.
She rode you with deliberate majesty, wings mantled wide, every downward stroke drawing a gasp from your throat. Around you, her court mirrored the act: succubi mounting incubi, mouths locked, bodies writhing in perfect synchrony, all eyes on their Queen.
Your blood slicked the join of your bodies, heightening every sensation—the wet slide, the velvet grip, the throb of her around you. She leaned down again, fangs grazing your neck, and bit—not deep, just enough to flood her mouth with fresh offering.
The pleasure spiked impossibly higher, a feedback loop of pain and rapture that blurred the edges of consciousness.
The orgy became a living hymn. Bodies moved in waves—succubi and incubi shifting forms mid-thrust, human tenderness giving way to demonic ferocity and back again.
Tails entwined, wings overlapped, claws scored flesh that healed almost instantly under Lilith’s gaze. Every moan, every cry rose in layered harmony, offered upward to her.
Lilith’s pace quickened. Her inner walls rippled in impossible patterns, milking you with divine precision.
You felt the moment she began to truly feed—not just pleasure, but the deeper essence: life force, devotion, surrender. It poured from you in ecstatic pulses, each thrust drawing more, until your vision swam red and gold.
At the peak, she threw her head back, wings flaring to their utmost, horns catching phantom firelight. A cry tore from her throat—ancient syllables of power that shook dust from the rafters.
Her climax crashed through her like a storm, body locking around yours, drinking the final surge of your release mingled with the last bright spill of blood.
The circle followed her over the edge in perfect unison—an explosion of moans, snarls, and shattering pleasure that seemed to shake the very foundations of the chapel. Seed and slick and blood painted the altar in sacred patterns.
When the tremors finally stilled, Lilith remained seated upon you, radiant and sated. She stroked your cheek with surprising tenderness, crimson eyes softening for a moment.
“My faithful,” she murmured to her court, voice husky with satisfaction. “You have honored me well.”
Then to you alone, lips brushing yours in a final, blood-sweet kiss: “And you, sweet offering… you are graduated into my eternal embrace.”
The demons bowed as one, wings folding in reverence. Lilith rose slowly, your essence glistening on her thighs, and extended a hand. Shadow and brimstone swirled around you all, drawing you deeper into her realm.
The chapel fell silent once more, altar empty save for dark stains that would never quite wash away.
Outside
The Moon Dipped Below the Horizon
As though even It could not
Bear Witness
To What had been
Consummated
In
Lilith’s Name.
. . .
(TO BE CONTINUED)
FURTHER INTRODUCTIONS
OF DEMONIC DEITIES
LAMIA & JOHN KEATS
(PTSD DREAMS)
AN
INTRODUCTION
PART 2
FEMME DEITIES & DEMONESS’:
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/an-introduction-part-2-femme-deities.html?m=1
INTRODUCTIONS
DEMONS & FAMILIARS:
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/introductions-demons-familiars.html?m=1
THE MOTHER GODDESS
VISITING THE MADONNA
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-mother-goddess-visiting-madonna.html?m=1
ELECTRA
AKA: "ELLIE"
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS:
BALAAM THE FALSE PROPHET
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/electra-aka-ellie-meeting-demon-spirits.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
RETURNS TO VISIT MAMMON
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-returns-to.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO "
MEETING DEMON SPIRITS: MAMMON
(PTSD DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-meeting-demon.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO"
VISITING THE MADONNA
(& MEETING WOLF-DEMON AAMON)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-visiting.html?m=1
DEMONS
"LILITH & AAMON"
(MEADOW & JACKIE JR)
A SUPPLIMENT FOR
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/demons-lilith-aamon-meadow-jackie-jr.html?m=1
AN
ANALYSIS
OF
"THE UNHINGING CRUX"
(Meadow's Virgin Islands Confessions)
FROM
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS(TYS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/12/analysis-of-unhinging-crux-from-young.html?m=1
AN ANALYSIS &
PHOTO ALBUM OF MEADOW'S MANY FACES
W/CARMELA COMPARISON
FROM
THE YOUNG SOPRANOS
APPENDIX II:
"Conspiracy of Crows"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/the-young-sopranos-appendix-ii.html?m=1
(The Ghost of Tony Soprano
Appears to Carmela)
A SUPPLIMENT
OF
"THE YOUNG SOPRANOS"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/07/read-young-sopranos-source.html?m=1
"MATILDA"
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL (1994)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-from-leon-professional-1994.html?m=1
MATILDA II
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-ii-from-leon-professional.html?m=1
"MATILDA" III
FROM LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-iii-from-leon-professional-1994.html?m=1
"MATILDA" IV
RESCUING BEETHOVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-iv-rescuing-beethoven.html?m=1
"MATILDA" V
MATTY ORLANDO
DATING "JOHNNY B. GOODE"
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-v-dating-johnny-b-goode.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA: "MATTY ORLANDO"
VI
MAKE-UP PRACTICE SESSION
W/ JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vi-make-up.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
VII
MEMENTO MORI
(DRUNKEN DREAMS)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vii-memento.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA
"MATTY ORLANDO"
SUBWAY RAT DREAMS
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-subway-rat.html?m=1
MATILDA
AKA:
"MATTY ORLANDO"
VII
MATTY ORLANDO'S
(Narrative)
"SECRET LIFE"
(W/ OUT JOHNNY B. GOODE)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matilda-aka-matty-orlando-vii-matty.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
RESCUES BEETHOVEN
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime.html?m=1
MORE
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
DATING
JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-dating-johnny-b.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
MEMENTO MORI
(ROMANCING THE DEAD)
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-memento-mori.html?m=1
"MATTY ORLANDO"
(ANIME)
MAKE-UP PRACTICE SESSION
W/ JOHNNY B. GOODE
https://youngsopranos.blogspot.com/2025/10/matty-orlando-anime-make-up-practice.html?m=1
"Johnny B. Goode"
(Live at the Fillmore East, NYC, NY - 1970) · Johnny Winter
https://youtu.be/gEayVWiJtLg?si=iePgaGvJVwQXTAmp
"MATTY ORLANDO"
INSPIRED
BY:
LEON: THE PROFESSIONAL
(1994)
https://youtu.be/Pf0JW-cAFTs?si=-BMWviJ-Dham07HD
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Please Consider
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