Nov 08 2016

A Review of Wild Seeds by Syn Root

Wild Seeds by Syn Root

Wild Seeds by Syn Root

A review of a new series that started recently that I think has quite a lot going for it this time on the Tale. A world that’s rich in mythos, a plot that offers mystery and a main character who has possibly one of the most “smart ass” personalities that I’ve seen in quite some time.

I will note that a prior version of this work I reviewed previously on the Tale and you can find that review here. There were some questions, some things in that version that bothered me, but in this, what I feel is, improved story, many of my issues were addressed and ti makes for a far better story as a whole. As such, this review will be about the new work on its own and not how its changed from the prior work.

All stories start somewhere. Sometimes those stories start with someone being foolish, or being made the fool. The thing that needs to be considered is whether, in fact, they aren’t foolish, but rather need to find their way, and who they are.

The finding of purpose can lead to something more than the purpose itself.

The story tells of:

Dox has been cursed. What started out as a sexy romp in the outer city got serious when she found herself in full bondage, getting nailed by the Forest God. Getting loaded on God Juice has unfortunate consequences… Oops. What begins as monster double penetration quickly progresses into being a sex slave for a billionaire orgy — and then beyond. This 25,000 word pilot episode follows the story of a cursed witch and her explosively hot sex life. Join Dox while she faces off with rough erotic devils throughout the entire series of Wild Seeds — Demons, Dragons and Gods! They say sometimes a Curse, is just a blessing in disguise — this one just has a lot more orgasms.

Dox is Fae, her life wild and unrestrained. An encounter with a God changes her, a favour asks leaves her with little choice. The choice made leads to desire and that desire creates the impossible. The problem is, with all of that, Dox herself can’t find her way out of being pulled into a world she never wanted to be part of in the first place, but now can’t live without.

She is, as a whole, somewhat of an enigma, which makes the task of figuring out who she is and what she’s capable of rather murky. She seems to be a mixture of different mythos, one of them being, at least from my perspective, that of a succubus. It’s not stated clearly so, but her desire for sex, her powers, and what comes through the story and how she changes, seems to suggest that she might be, to some extent, a succubus.

To that point, the last chapter of the work I found very intriguing, where the story goes from that point I do want to see. Whether my thoughts about Dox are correct or not, the image of her just before the work comes to a close will remain with me for quite some time, succubus or not.

Dox aside, the characters are unique, their stories are captivating and how the universe is explained and used to tell the story I think works very well. There are plots within plots, stories within stories and while some are left incomplete, there’s every indication that they will come back to haunt Dox throughout the series.

The erotica is a series of short hot flashes, some of which are very hot, others perhaps not quite so much so. That’s more of a need towards the events of the moment where they appear and as such they tend to work well. Each as a point, or seems to, which allows for some needed character development to happen.

The underlying thing about this work is the mystery. Dox doesn’t know what’s going on, really there’s no one that has a really good idea. There are suggestions, ideas, but all that’s happening to her isn’t clear and leaves much not answered. It is clear that Dox loves sex, has a odd opinion of herself, and is a bit of a lost soul throughout much of the story being driven by circumstance and events towards what happens to her.

The writing is quite good, the characters have excellent voice. The plot is complex, the mystery is deep and lovely. There are some minor spelling mistakes in the latter part of the story, but that doesn’t take away from the story as a whole.

What’s missing is a bit of focus about Dox herself. It feels like possibly two books worth of plot came about in this one work. Things are a little rushed as such and that hurts the work overall to a point. There’s a point where the story could be split into two and each part could be given more time to develop and tell a richer story.

There’s a lot of promise here, I really do like Dox and I am curious about where things are going to take her. There’s a mystery building, something is going to happen, and I hope the author doesn’t rush headlong into things and allows the story to be told.

Three and a half pitchforks out of five.

Dox seems to be a complex character around who there’s a lot of things to be explored. Is she a succubus remains not quite clear by the conclusion, but there’s quite a number of hints and suggestions that she is, in one way or another, some kind of succubus, whatever that may turn out to be. I’m looking forward to the next work in the series, Pussy slays a Dragon, which should be appearing shortly.

Dox seems to have the most interesting of lives to live. Hopefully in doing so she’ll manage to get to the answers she’s looking for, whether she likes them or not. That story in itself is the one that I’ll be the most interested in.




Nov 08 2016

A Review of The Half-Succubus Gal Julie Direct: The Second Circle Summoner by Heidi Fisk

The Half-Succubus Gal Julie Direct: The Second Circle Summoner by Heidi Fisk

The Half-Succubus Gal Julie Direct: The Second Circle Summoner by Heidi Fisk

There are quite a number of short stories about succubi that appear now which can be either something really good, or something not so much so. Much of the difference comes from the writing, the dialogue and the characters. But the singular point that matters most is some kind of effort made to edit the story into something that is comprehensible.

Telling a story that has no focus, seems not to know what comes next, other than the main character, and then falls into a series of scenes that have really nothing connection them is a problem. More so when what little story there is just doesn’t go anywhere at all by the time the last paragraph appears.

  • Title: The Half-Succubus Gal Julie Direct: The Second Circle Summoner
  • Author: Heidi Fisk
  • Length: 25 Pages
  • ASIN: B01FJ9H5KO
  • Publishing Date: May 11, 2016
  • This work at

The work tells the story of:

Julie Direct was just a girl who loved sex, at least that is what she thought as first until a mysterious book her mother left her started summoning demons that wanted to have sex with her. That isn’t even getting to the nun with a penis.

Julie is know for being oversexed but really doesn’t know why. Finding a book her mother left her takes Julie to learning she is a succubus and while that explains a little, she’s still as lost as she ever was.

The work is, overall, a very difficult read because of the many editing mistakes, wooden dialogue, disjointed sentence structure and most of all, a seeming lack of where the story wants to go. It reads very much like a stream of consciousness, never really settling into any kind of meaningful story at all.

It’s hard to figure out just who Julie is, there’s very little told about her past, how she wound up where she is now. The story tells more about Julie’s seeming endless need for sex anywhere possible, including on a bus, than it does in really constructing her character. The work reads like a Hentai novel overall, but in doing so that takes away any sort of real exposition for the sake of getting Julie to the next erotic scene.

Even when characters appear who seem to have known her for some time, they pop in and then out of the story for no seeming purpose other than as a cameo. When Julie figures out how the book her mother gave her works, the story moves into a porn scene, it really isn’t erotica, that comes and goes in a flash before the story gets lost again.

The work shows there has been little, if any, editing at all for the vast number of spelling and grammar mistakes. The dialogue reads oddly, the narrative is mostly non-existent. There isn’t so much a story as a series of short porn scenes where Julie gets to come… over and over again… and then it rushes off in another direction altogether.

Even when Julie learns something about herself, about her power and the book she has, that isn’t really built upon. There’s some passing explanation and then Julie’s off to enjoy some Hentai porn with another new character in the story.

This is all a shame because there is a story here, somewhere, but it can’t get out from under the focus on porn scenes, the lack of editing, and the feeling that the work was written in another language and then put through Google translator for the final work.

One pitchfork out of five.

The work needs a serious editing, time spent on actually telling a story instead of running around in circles, and, most of all, some kind of focus. There is a story here, somewhere, but how it is presented just makes it so very hard to find among all of the editing mistakes.



Nov 07 2016

The Second Coming – Part V By TeraS

This, the next part of The Second Coming, was supposed to appear on Halloween … I wanted to try and finish this story by then, but that doesn’t seem to have worked out for me. I think there’s one more chapter in this, possibly two—at least I think so; we’ll have to see where my thoughts take me. If you’d like to read the prior four parts of this story, you can find them here on the Tale.

Halloween is the time for things to change. Something darkens, something becomes lost, and other things are found. Along the way, choices have to be made, and not all of them are for the best. But then, sometimes, the choices made aren’t ones that you have control over in the first place.

They control you.


The Second Coming
Part V
By TeraS


The ride in the taxi was a very silent one for the two redheads. The driver managed not to gawk too much at the pair, though his attention was diverted enough that one of the two screamed when he almost ran into the back of a bus.

It was hard to ignore the pair, considering they were both beyond stunningly beautiful. He was sure that they’d both be the focus of his dreams that night and a lot of nights to come.

Neither looked at the other, though out of sight, they held hands, the one with brighter red hair keeping her hand over the other’s. Each was thinking about what happened in the elevator, how far it had gone.

Neither was sorry about that.

Mandy wasn’t sorry about worshipping Cleo. She’d been doing that from afar for so long that the last little step of being on her knees, tongue to Cleo’s sex, didn’t bother her at all. To be able to pleasure her paramour, to give of herself as she’d wished to for years, brought a prayer of thanks, and one of hope.

Idly she blew a lock of her brilliant red hair away from her eyes as she remembered Cleo’s voice, how her own sex trembled with each shiver and whine that escaped her lover. Biting her lip in thought she found that she wasn’t, if she was truthful with herself, sure that lifting the succubus’ curse was the best thing for them.

Was it really a curse? Was it really that awful a thing for Cleo? Was it so bad to want to be with the woman she loved? Or was Mandy being selfish? So many questions to think about, but there was something more. Something Cleo had said nagged at her and she couldn’t explain what it was.

It was that last question that pressed on Mandy.

Cleo wasn’t sorry that she’d twined her fingers around strands of Mandy’s hair, screaming out her love. She wasn’t sorry that she opened herself to her. She ached, dearly, for Mandy, her past thoughts of not being good enough pushed aside because of what the succubus had done to her. There was a little part of her that was thankful. She didn’t want this, didn’t want to be what the book said she’d become. Her fate, as was written, was a terrible one. But to be able to hold Mandy, to love her, to say those words … she was willing to do that even if she resisted everything else.

Could she hold on to herself? Was it possible? Was there a way out? Perhaps the one question that she feared most of all was: would she hurt Mandy? Having found her love, held her, looked into her eyes, was this all just a fleeting moment before it all went to hell?

That last question was the nightmare Cleo faced. This wasn’t over; she knew the succubus was churning within her, slowly changing her, turning her. Now she felt a tingle in her fingers which drew her attention. As she watched, they became slightly longer, the tips turning sharper, the red of her nails becoming redder still.


Not willing to let go of her lover, Cleo looked at her hand against the window. The light glinting off her new nails, which seemed so cruel and evil—a reflection of what was still happening to her. “Damn.”


She didn’t look across the cab, but only showed Mandy her fingernails before sighing and shifting her hand over Mandy’s own.

“You need a manicure.”

Cleo chuckled lightly, she couldn’t help it: “Need a cure.”

“We’ll find one. Any idea where to start?”

“Most of the answers are in the catacombs. That book might have some answers.”

The tensing in Mandy’s hand couldn’t be ignored.

Cleo’s eyes fell upon their hotel as they came closer: “Where’s the book?”

“I hid it at Amber’s house.”

That answer made Cleo look at her in stunned disbelief.


“Whatever made you do that?”

Mandy’s shocked expression was telling: “Let’s see. I had Her Grace there with her goons, the police were coming. You, Amber, and Ben weren’t any help at all. How was I going to carry out a book about ancient demons right in front of them?”

Properly chided, Cleo looked down at her heels: “I’m sorry.”

The kiss was a surprise: “I forgive you.”

Mandy’s kiss was meant to assure, but the aching need within Cleo to lap at her lover’s sex did nothing but make her pussy throb longingly; the thought of binding Mandy to their bed and making her scream was delightful.


A light smile hid much of what she was thinking, as did her reply: “Okay. List of things to do: get our things from the hotel; get that book back; then get the Hell—so to speak—out of here.”


“Where are we going?”

“Back to the catacombs.”


Mandy’s eyebrows arched in surprise: “But … that takes you closer to …”

A light squeeze of Mandy’s hand: “I know. But the book tells of things that … help. Much of that is back there, not here.”

Of course it isssss.

Mandy’s expression was unreadable, but she didn’t comment any further about Cleo’s idea as the taxi pulled up to the hotel. She had been able to stuff a credit card into the almost useless pocket of her painted-on skirt, but there’d been no place to hide their room key.

The lobby was mostly empty when they entered, not at all looking like the sort that would be staying at a place like this. After all, this place had standards, and two oversexed redheads who wore their sexuality as they did wouldn’t possibly have a room there. Of course, no one would recognize Cleo, or her assistant, for that matter, not as they were dressed. The two nuns that were supposed to be in their room weren’t going to be found, and it was unlikely that the receptionist would hand over the keys … and Mandy wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again, smiling that ick of a smile and making Mandy’s skin crawl.

But she wasn’t there. A young bellhop was, smiling a neutral smile as they approached him: “Can I help you … ladies?”

Mandy tried the direct approach, claiming she was Sister Miranda and asking for their key. The expression didn’t change much, even with the answer: “I’m sorry. Neither of you seem to be Sister Miranda or Sister Cléophée. I’ll have to call management.”

The younger nun turned away, making plans to abandon the things in their room and move on. She missed Cleo reaching out with long red dagger-like nails and taking hold of the bellhop’s hand. She missed the little gasp of surprise. She didn’t miss the jangle of keys being scooped up from the countertop: “It’s my pleasure to serve.”

Cleo turned towards the elevators: “Come along, Miranda.”

Mandy gaped as Cleo strode across the lobby, her stride sure, unconcerned, as if she owned the place. Mandy stood there frozen, watching Cleo roll her hips and accentuate her sexuality, revelling in her own power.

Leaving the pimply attendant in their wake, Mandy rushed after Cleo, darting into the elevator with her as the doors closed. The last thing she saw from the lobby was the bellhop at the counter smiling …

… and his smile was every bit as ick as that receptionist’s was.

The ride up was in silence, Cleo staring at the doors and holding the room key in one hand. Cleo didn’t look away from the doors, standing there as if in trance.

He would have been delicious.

The enthralling voice in her mind held her.

Devouring him. Leaving him a husk, empty, all yours.

Her mind was filled with a vision of straddling him, her slick cunt riding his shaft, consuming him soul, his mind, his will.

“Cleo? What the hell did you do?”


“We needed the key, Miranda.”

“Yes, but how did you get it?”

Cleo blinked, then looked at the key in her hand: “It was there on the counter and I took it.”

Something wasn’t right about that answer, but Mandy couldn’t put her finger on just what, exactly: “Are you okay?”

Of course you are

Of course she was, that key was right there on the counter. She took it; that young man didn’t seem to mind that she did. That’s what happened, wasn’t it?

Of course it was

Cleo’s answer was slightly uncertain as the bell announced their arrival: “I’m fine, Mandy.” There was no one on the floor, and the door to Cleo’s room was soon opened, the two rushing inside. “All I need is my case. We can leave everything else here.”

Mandy paused to close the door behind them: “Are you sure? What about passports and stuff?”

“We’ll …” Cleo’s gasp of surprise made Mandy turn around. There, kneeling in the middle of the room, was the receptionist, dressed in what Mandy could only describe as some kind of fetish slave wear: her hair in a ponytail, breasts exposed, black tape over her nipples in an ‘x’, fishnet stockings, cruel looking heels, a corset binding her tightly.

Her smile was even more ick: “Please … do come in.”

Mandy turned back to leave, intending to abandon that case and get away with Cleo, but before she could open the door, Cleo whispered: “Mandy, I can’t move.”

The fetishist purred: “That’s right. Leave. Leave and run.”

Mandy didn’t. The warning pressed on her again: “Don’t leave her alone.”

The anger in Mandy’s eyes burned as she came into the room, to stand beside Cleo: “Let go of her.”

If the smile was ick, the laughter was terrible. Now that she could see the woman, it was clear that her body was covered in tattoos, her eyes hooded. She was deeply aroused, a glaze over her eyes. In front of her was the book that Cleo had taken from the catacombs and the case.

“What do you want?”

“To serve.”


Cleo’s hands shook: “Who are you?”

“I am nothing without her.”


The case was opened, bindings thrown towards Mandy, one clattering against her heels.

She pointed at them: “Put them on, Sister.”


That icky smile became cruel: “You will.”

Mandy didn’t move: “Fuck you.”

The kneeling woman opened the book, turning the pages, ignoring Mandy: “I serve her will. Her desires are mine. I obey.”

Cleo wasn’t moving, only staring forwards and nothing more. Mandy’s hand slipped into Cleo’s own: “Come on, Cleo!”

An ancient word was spoken, fouling the air, making it reek of fire and brimstone. The smell choked her lungs and Mandy bent over, wretching, unable to breathe, her arms wrapped around her waist.

Cleo taking hold of her from behind was a surprise, as was the purring heat of her voice: “Do you like my pet, Miranda? She was such a wanton little slut, so easy to turn.

The younger woman tried to break Cleo’s grip: “What the hell is going on!”

Cleo’s lick against the back of her neck was a shock: “Cleo’s not here right now. I’m Cléophée.”

Still struggling, Mandy was helpless as Cléophée—it wasn’t Cleo—pushed her across the room and then face-down onto the floor: “Bind her.

There was no way to resist either of them. Bindings soon wrapped around Mandy’s ankles and wrists before the other two pulled her up and set her in a chair. It was the first time that Mandy had a good look at Cleo … Cléophée … since they’d come into the room. She wept at the blank white eyes that had replaced Cleo’s beautiful brown. The expression on the possessed face was one of contempt and derision. This wasn’t Cleo; anything of the woman she loved had been submerged beneath a veneer that she didn’t recognize.

“Dear God.”

Cléophée ran her tongue over her nails: “No, but in time you’ll call me Mistress,’ if not your Goddess.

Those words made Mandy shiver in fear, which only made Cléophée chuckle darkly as she slipped out of the clothes she’d been wearing: “Plans within plans She could not escape.

The heels came off, hands pulling off the skirt and letting it drop away, forgotten: “I can hardly wait to lap your soul away, leave you a mindless cunt at my feet.

Mandy watched her lover’s body being caressed, teased, fingers exploring her curves until they threw her top away as well, her lover’s blank eyes holding her own: “It’s been so long since I’ve devoured someone in love.” She couldn’t look away, the terrible vision of her lover, her life, prowling towards her, licking her lips. Cléophée straddled her, looking down into her prey’s eyes: “Sucking away all you are, who you are, needing only me.

Cléophée’s fingers stroking against her cheek made Mandy turn away, weeping. She felt the long nails scratching her chin, forcing her to look once more. Her tormentor’s smirk was awful: “But not yet, sweetling. Soon, but not yet.” The kiss was nothing like Cleo’s. Rough, harsh, loveless and almost needless. When it was over, Mandy looked away.

Cléophée licked her lips and looked at her slave, pet, whatever was the receptionist before: “But I need to feed.

Mandy still couldn’t bring herself to face what Cleo had become: “Leave her alone.”

The only answer was a giggle: “Come here, pet.

There was no way that Mandy was going to watch, and so she closed her eyes, not wanting to know.

Miranda, you will watch or I will suck her dry. Her death will be on your head.

It wasn’t any choice at all. She’d promised Cleo that she wouldn’t allow her kill. She had to watch.

The pet crawled to where Cléophée was standing, one hand close to her bare sex, a long red fingernail pointing to her clit: “Pleasure me.”

It was awful to watch her lover’s body being aroused, the moaning thrill of Cléophée’s voice; watching the long red nails take hold of the blonde’s hair, guiding her, commanding her, making her obey; listening to the sound of a wet tongue and lips slurping, the whining need of the pet to obey, to please. It was nothing, nothing like the bliss her Cleo cried out when Mandy had offered herself in love. Cléophée’s sneer as the pet was pushed away made Mandy’s heart sink. It wasn’t the woman she loved.

The tears came as the ponytail pet fell onto her back, legs splayed wide, her sex dripping in need. Cléophée descended on her, lips and fingers thrust deeply within her pet’s sex, the scream of joy, raw and naked, baring her soul to be fed upon and Cléophée did, her pet convulsing beneath her ministrations.

The first change was impossible to miss. A long thin red spaded tail broke through the small of Cléophée’s back, just above her heart-shaped rear, and rose into the air behind her. Pet screamed as more of her soul was consumed and next to come were the pair of large black bat wings arching into the air from Cléophée’s shoulder blades.

Mandy wept at the sight—it was what she’d feared—and her cries made Cléophée pause and look at her: “She’s delicious You’ll be more so.

The pause was for an instant, then her lover, partially transformed, suckled upon her prey’s nipples. The shift of her skin, from a lovely tan to blood red, was almost instantaneous. Her legs bent, her feet shifted and, suddenly, where there once had been lovely dainty feet, now there were hooves of black.

The pet turned to look at Mandy, her expression a mixture of desire, bliss, and sheer terror. She tried to say something, but Cléophée’s hands forced her to look upon the one devouring her soul. Their lips came close, Cléophée moaning into her meal’s open mouth: “Delicious.

It was a long, deep kiss, the moaning of pet muffled by her captor sucking away another part of her soul. For a moment, their lips parted, and Mandy could see that her lover’s tongue was long, so very long, the tip forked like that of a snake’s.

Mandy watched as the light faded away from the pet’s eyes and they turned as white as Cléophée’s own. But it didn’t end there. The succubus—Mandy couldn’t think of her as Cleo—continued to suck away, feeding on the soul she was offered.

The changing of the blonde’s hair was a shock. It turned almost instantly to red, while she screamed into the succubus’ mouth as the creature finished feeding, her pet crumpling into a slick mess of sweat, cum, and ecstasy unfulfilled.

Cléophée stood, displaying her form in pride. Wide leathery bat wings framed her blood red skin. Long pointed ears rose into the air through her mane of red hair, a pair of black horns reaching high above her, leaving no doubt of what she was, if the wings and tail didn’t already make it clear. As she cupped her bosom, Cléophée’s hooves clicked on the floor in spite of it being carpet, her attentions upon Mandy now. The raw sexuality of the succubus was inescapable, her smile, one of being in control, was so wrong on Cleo’s face: “What’s wrong, Miranda? Don’t you love me anymore?

She didn’t lie: “I don’t love … you.”

The succubus closed the distance between them, once more straddling the young nun. She came close, her terrible, beautiful face being all that Mandy could see, her wings moved slowly, currents of air pushing both manes of red hair about randomly: “You will.

The kiss was as awful as it was unexpected, Mandy could taste the pet’s sex on her lips as Cléophée drew back, her wings stretched wide, her tail swaying behind her, licking her lips. Dark black eyes reflected Mandy’s expression: “Don’t run off now, even if you could, I know you won’t.

One moment the red-skinned bitch was there taunting her. The next she was gone into thin air, leaving Mandy to struggle with her bonds and the blonde pet, now redhead, discarded nearby, her eyes empty, moaning for her Goddess to return.

As her fingers worked to undo the bindings, Mandy was grateful for one small thing: “At least her hair isn’t as red as mine.”

Nov 06 2016

A Review of My Incubus by Jack Stroker

My Incubus by Jack Stroker

My Incubus by Jack Stroker

One of the things that a story needs is emotion. Whether that is in the characters, the events that unfold, or something else, without the emotional connection a promising story can become much like reading a cookbook. All of the ingredients are there, but you can’t eat the pictures on the page to know what they are like.

Similarly, a work that offers some sort of erotic moments really shouldn’t have them consist of a short summary and nothing more. Especially when the entire point of one of the characters is their sexuality. Leaving that out of the story, making it only a thing in passing seems to only turn the work into a pale version of what it could be.

The work tells of:

A needy mature woman is visited by a handsome demon and fireworks result.

Vivian finds an incubus in her bed. A deal is struck, the papers signed and then the debt must be paid. However things don’t go as the incubus expects, and then Vivian finds that when a deal is broken there are consequences.

Overall the one thing that this work is missing is emotion. The main character, who’s name really isn’t mentioned until well into the story, Vivian, narrates the work and the singular thing about her tone is that she seems almost bored in the telling. She speaks of things happening in passing, some vague comments about what the incubus, who’s name is beyond silly, is like, but there’s little to no detail otherwise.

Even in the moments of erotica, there really isn’t any. The telling reads like a summary, a short ‘he was amazing’ and nothing more than that. It becomes a bit more odd when Vivian manages to turn the tables and then the story moves into the realm of a ‘fish out of water’ story for the incubus.

That could have really worked, been something interesting, but instead everything that he experiences, outside of being in Vivian’s apartment, is only mentioned in passing. As well, the job he finally manages to win is less than a surprise, seems obvious, and, again, that could have been something for more conflict between the characters, telling of what happens to him, but it’s glossed over quickly to move the story along.

Eventually the devil makes an appearance, and even that is mainly told in summary with the occasional short interaction between him, Vivian and the incubus. There are some cute moments in this, some temptation for Vivian, but it doesn’t get played out.

Perhaps that’s the biggest problem with this work in that there’s a lot of good ideas, the characters have some promise, but none of that really gets used. I feel like there’s a very good story underneath this one that seems to be summarizing the better one in passing. I would have liked to have read that story.

A story without heart, without emotion. Characters that do not develop much, and the ending left me wondering what was the point of everything that happened in the first place. Much like the story itself, the ending… just was. Emotionally there simply isn’t anything to hold onto as the story unfolds, the characters I wanted to care about, but couldn’t.

More time spent in adding flair to the words, less summing up of events and more telling of them would have helped a lot. Erotica with heat would have as well. It’s hard to say if this work is more of a comedy of errors than anything else, considering what the characters go through. Personally I just didn’t find my way in and I wish I could have.

Two out of five pitchforks.

There’s just no emotion in the work to speak of. Vivian seems to sleepwalking through the story, and even with the occasional bits of humour, the work didn’t hold me as I would have liked it to. Perhaps the rather short book blurb should have been a clue that the idea is there, but the details aren’t. In the end, story matters, and not using that story, telling it well, seems to leave much to be desired. Which, all things considered, is telling.



Nov 06 2016

A Review of Making The Incubus by Benedict Palantine

Making The Incubus by Benedict Palantine

Making The Incubus by Benedict Palantine

There is a difference between telling a story and simply describing it. Focusing on action rather than plot or experience rather than developing the characters can be an issue. Beyond that, telling the story in a series of long, never ending pages without a break, or paragraph for that matter, strains one’s ability to comprehend what is going on.

Telling a story well can be done with some care. Spelling, grammar, chapters that have a purpose will help in that. But more so, actually telling a story that’s more than describing the sex, more than a series of commentary amongst the porn scenes, leads to something far more interesting.

The work tells of:

Steven Bridemoore never considered himself special. He was strong and handsome with a powerful libido, but all of this seemed fairly commonplace. Now that he is captive to a hyper-sexual coven of demon Succubae, he is learning a lot about himself. The questions continue to torment him, though. Will his body be able to hold up under his new and raging hunger? Will his psyche remain intact as the new and addictive pleasures consume him? Forced onto this path by his wickedly seductive Mistress, he has no choice but to give in and follow it through. He wavers in and out of consciousness with each awakening bringing about new hungers and new overwhelming pleasure. Will he survive being made Incubus?

Steven awakes to find himself at the tender mercies of a group of succubi with one thing in mind. They need an incubus to help them survive and he seems to be the right man to be transformed. Piece by piece he’s changed, altered, becoming something more than he was, but along the way, there are always stumbling blocks and problems to overcome.

The work is, at its core, a story that wants to tell about a man being pleasured, over and over again, by succubi until he goes over the edge and becomes an incubus. At least that’s what seems to be going on, but it’s hard at times to be really sure about that. The story wanders in many directions, characters pop in and out, side stories appear without any reason why they matter. There are quite a number of spelling and grammar mistakes, the dialogue reads very oddly as well. The characters are skimmed over, there’s no development save for the occasional commentary about the characters.

What is the hardest thing however is how this author presented their story. Each chapter is, for the most part, one long, never ending paragraph. A wall of text that goes on and on, never breaking into smaller, more understandable paragraphs. Perspectives change, events unfold, scenes change and it all happens in that wall of text. That hurts the story, makes it hard to keep one’s place in it, and by the time the ending appears, I was left wondering just want was going on.

There is quite a lot of repetition as well, some lines are repeated, some characters do the same thing over and over again. The story isn’t really erotic as such. The erotica is skimmed over, as is much of the overall detail in this work. Yhe transformation seems to be more mental than it is physical as well. The succubi aren’t interesting as a whole, though the main lead character succubus herself has some promise as a narrator as an aside.

The story is told in a rush, almost like a summary of events. It’s a shame because some of the points that come up would have made for interesting chapters on their own, but the author moves far too quickly onto the next thing to be shown and leaves those plots to be forgotten. There is a story here, but what this work projects is something like a overview of a larger work, telling of the highlights, mostly sexual, occasionally plot and character ones.

The work needs a serious editing, the wall of text has to go, the dialogue needs to be improved, the characters need to be developed. The transformational aspects of the story need to be told more, the change in the main character should be more focused on. The side story that appears need not be, at least in how it was told, for it didn’t seem to matter at all, or make a lot of sense.

In short, the story needs to breath, to find itself. It’s not given that chance and that’s a shame because there are points that I thought had a lot of promise. Getting that promise out from under the lack of editing is where things start.

One pitchfork out of five.

The work is best described as a wall of text that needs a lot of editing and some kind of an attempt to tell a story rather than simply go on about sex. I think there’s a story here, at least there’s one trying to get out, but the presentation makes that difficult to comprehend.

Seemingly this is the first book of a series, but if the next work tells its story as this one did that will be a shame. Having a story to tell is one thing, telling it well is quite another. Care and effort can make that happen and I hope this author can do both.



Nov 05 2016

An artist’s succubus process YouTube

Another of the work in progress YouTubes I have been sharing on the Tale lately today. The thing about this one is that, I think, the artist might be confusing succubi and vampires just a touch. That’s not to say the art isn’t amazing, because it is. It’s just that, at least to me, I can’t quite see the succubus in this art all that easily…

If you cannot see this video on the Tale, please try this link:

The artist also placed the completed work on DeviantArt, which you can find here, but as always, here is the art in case the video, or the art itself, disappears…


Busty Succubus Girl by NoStylin

Busty Succubus Girl
by NoStylin

She really seems to have a more vampiric look, her teeth are really quite clear on that point I think. There is a bit of succubus in her through her wings, body shape, and clothing however. But it is her expression that pushes me towards thinking of her as more vampiric than succubish…

Perhaps a tail might have made the difference? I think it might have…



Nov 04 2016

A Review of Passion’s Price by Alana Church

Passion's Price by Alana Church

Passion’s Price by Alana Church

I’ve been captivated by The Succubus series by Alana Church from the beginning. I’ve loved each character, the love, the story, it’s been, in many ways, speaking to many of my personal beliefs about succubi. Today a review of the eighth work in the series, possibly the last, but, there is always hope isn’t there?

My first review is here, the second is here and my third review cab be found here. The fourth review can be found here on the Tale with the fifth review being here. My review sixth work in the series, is here and my review of the prior work in the series can be found here on the Tale.

We are nothing without hope. It is not love, nor need, nor life itself that gives a reason to be. Hope, in whatever form we need for our own souls to find peace, matters. Sometimes the greatest can lose hope and sometimes that hope is found anew in a soul that believes.

The work tells the story of:

The end has come. In the final chapter of our story, Althea, the immortal succubus, knows that the confrontation with the demon-spawn Kincaid is near. To lure him into their trap means putting the entire family in harm’s way. And even if she succeeds, will the love they all share survive? Because when all you hold dear is at risk, sometimes you have to pay…Passion’s Price.

Althea knows the time has come, her family is at risk, she must take up the mantle of protector once more. A sword alone isn’t enough to take into battle. The shield she carries is her love, her heart and soul. Her will demands she confront that which threatens all she cares for. But with all of that, there is one thing she cannot overcome, not without help, should she be willing to accept that which she’s denied for so long.

What strikes me the most about this work is that within the pages we see Althea at her best and at her worst. She’s forced to come to terms with the pain she’s been carrying inside for so long which results in what is, for her, the most heart wrenching moment of the series by far. She’s always loved Rachel, her family and Yasna, but she’s never really been able to have the one thing she’s been wanting for so long. It takes a lot to break that truth out of her and when it comes it makes total sense and explains much of her personality and drive.

In the same way, there are some telling moments for Rachel, Yasna, and the family as well. They face a hard fact, one they cannot avoid, and how each reacts was true to them all. Not everything is wonderful emotionally for them, but at the same time, there is a telling moment for each as a character, to push them towards a focal point and that was very interesting to me.

While there is conflict, the climax of the series takes place in a way that gave truth to the succubi, to those they face, and, at its core, the question they face. The answer to that question, the offering of a reason to be more than just “because Goddess says so” was all that I could have hoped for.

There are some lovely soft and passionate moments of erotica which give rise to some needed truths for two characters. Both were perfect in how they developed, gave rise to the story and didn’t take away, but rather added much to joining the pieces of Althea’s soul. There is humour, dearly needed with all of the seriousness that come in this part of  the series. The mixture of light and darker moments tells much about this universe, the souls within it, and in doing to makes the story become alive.

There are one or two little tiny editing mistakes, but they don’t take away from the passion, the story, or the characters. The series has remained true to the core plot, the characters themselves and in this work the ending brings about a satisfying conclusion.

There are, of course, some story plots left open, the appearance of two characters that made me smile, one in particular for which I was thrilled beyond words to see. The emotional connection is delightful, the resolution of Althea’s arc made compete sense. Most of all, the gift which appears, in all of its forms, is one that’s perfect in so many important ways.

I’ve loved the series from the beginning, I love it even more now. Althea, Yasna, Rachel and her family are dearly loved for all they represent and have been. One of the most delightful, passionate series about succubi that I’ve read in some time. I dearly hope Althea’s story will continue, but if not, knowing her has been a dear pleasure to me.

Five out of five pitchforks.

Everything that I could have hoped for, an ending that I loved dearly and spoke to me in a way that only those that know me will understand. While this is billed as the last work in this series, there is a bit of hope in the words “The last? work” which I dearly hope that this isn’t.

Althea has something to live for again. There is hope again for her, more than she’s known in so long. I’d like to see that story told. I’d like to know more about her sisters, whether the redhead or the raven haired one doesn’t matter, it would be nice to know more about them. There are doors open to tell more about Althea’s world, her life, her past and future.

Promise. That’s what this series has and perhaps, in time, the author will tell more. I, for one, will be watching with joy and love always…