Jack’s Sack: The Succubus Jar
Good day all-I hope you’re staying happy, healthy and sane. Welcome to Jack’s Sack, our sextoy review series. Miss the last entry? You can read it here. Today, we’re going to talk about the captivating beauty of having your soul sucked out of your cock. Let’s go.
Summoning Demons With Ancient Artifacts For Fun and Profit
How often do you think about your soul?
Is it a constant spiritual concern? Do you think of it as a flame within your body, roaring unto moral winds? Is it a transient thing, a form of energy assuming a physical form only for a time? Do you have a firm grasp upon it?
If so-why?
As your local extremely queer occultist, I feel it pertinent to tell you a dark secret I’ve learned. I’ve spent the better part of my life pouring over ancient texts. Talking with others in the field. Listening to the fetid whispers in the darkest corners of the world. In all, their promises for power were sweet as agave. Just give, they said. Just let go came their verbal ambrosia. Over my brain, over my heart, into the depths of what I’d consider a soul.
Yet, it’s rare I’ve felt that part of me leave the physical vessel I’ve come to assume. The occasional projection to talk to a goddess here. The once-in-a-while astral projection to see a lover. Riding upon the waves cosmic requires an iron will, something I’ve rarely had the peace of mind to do. Other magicians-practitioners less stubborn than I-use things to help channel this. Wands, daggers, bowls. It’s a practice I’ve upturned my nose at. Bah, what good are baubles? I’d say. After all, I’m a god damned chaos magician! The entire basis of my practice is rooted in improv!
This level of ego-bound idiocy is referred to as mage-itis, and every occultist goes through it. You assume you’re bigger than your britches. Occultism is in reality extensive introspection, and not one of us knows ourselves to the degree we like to. We know for a time, we form a surface level understanding. But to know oneself is to become a god-and at best, we’re all still on that path.
So.
I decided to stop being so stubborn for once.
I decided to let go, if only for a while.
To channel, to shape my will into something that would allow me to leave this burning world.
I accomplished it with the help of a gift that arrived on my doorstep.
From the Nether, Into the Void
The Succubus Jar (yes, I’m calling it that, as the item name is way too long) arrived in a discrete black box. Not a single hint was given to what lay inside-which frankly was perfect. On occasion I’ll receive gifts from the nether with labels like “OXIDIZED GOLEMS HEART”, which is just a chore to explain to the mailman. Look, you try to explain the black ooze pouring out of the tip of an envelope one time, and suddenly you’re “that weird guy” with the “crazy eyes” that always answers in his bath r-
I digress.
The box was pitch as the night sky and sealed. Good. Always, always ensure your joys and toys arrived properly packaged, deviants. Slitting the box open revealed a beautiful blue vase within, featuring a slight curve. I was actually awestruck by just how pretty this particular channeling device was. Sitting at about a foot in length, the soft inner sleeve is encased in a clear plastic blue shell. If you left it out sitting on a table, ritual stand or bookshelf, none would be the wiser to it’s machinations.
However, I’m a curious warlock. When you find yourself in possession of such items, it’s pertinent to inspect them fully before committing to craft. I rotated the ends, pleased to find both popped off. Within was a mouth and cunt held in check by soft styrofoam. I removed the pegs, and could have sworn I heard a faint gasp when I did so. It’s best to disregard such tricks of the mind. Every magick device has its quirks, and some tend to be a bit more theatrical than others. With a shake of my head, I found myself centered back within the moment.
I lifted the vase within my hands, and noticed an inscription. RideMii. I stifled a smirk, and turned the jar within my grip. Both ends were molded in such realistic fashion I questioned which to inspect first. I settled on the mouth, which featured plush lips and a very realistically molded tongue. My mind flipped to a recent spell I’d worked upon with another magician. Hah. Funny how the universe finds a way.
I pressed my finger against the lips, and was immediately taken back. Not out of horror or revulsion, but surprise. They gave and felt like a real pair of lips. The gasp I’d heard earlier circled back into my head. It’s tone was a bit louder this time, a touch more desperate. But for what, I couldn’t say. I flipped the jar over, the plump lips of the cunt before me. Before I dared to touch it, I noticed something. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, a slight of my mind.
But it looked wet, and quivered in my grasp. I blinked, and it was gone. I stood there with the artifact in my hands for a long moment before I pressed the caps back upon it. I sat it on the bathroom counter, and busied my mind with the minutiae of living.
Yet my thoughts kept drifting back to it. I’d catch myself spying it on the counter as I wrote, always out of the corner of my eye. Each gaze lingering a blink longer than the one before. I’d find any excuse to get up, to gaze at it from the doorway.
Is it that, in our magickal practice, we’re drawn to devices that channel that energy? Or rather, they call us? I can’t say. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to answer in confidence. All I can state is that the jar drew me to it.
So I did as any magician would.
As I’d been told.
I gave, and channeled.
I gathered the necessary preparations, my heart racing as blood surged through me. I pulled away my clothes, leaving them in a forgotten trail in the waking world. I gripped the jar, baffled as to where to even begin my work. Each thought consumed the one before it in an ouroboros of want, surging ahead of weakened concepts of logic and self restraint.
The mouth.
It had been so long since I felt a lover’s mouth on me.
I pulled the cap away, and poured the concoction within it’s lips. It drank it down with glee, it’s lips so wet that I caught myself beginning to pant.
It was time to begin the great work.
With every breath caught at the back of my throat, I pressed myself within. The gasp that had echoed through my head became a moan as the tongue rolled the underside of my cock. I gripped the edge of the bathroom counter, my mind reeling as the vase kept taking me. Every inch, all the way to the base. My balls came to rest against the lips-and that’s when I felt it. The tug of my very being wanting to live and exist on a scale that my mere flesh couldn’t contain. My bucks grew more vigorous, animalistic grunts escaping my throat as I felt my third eye open.
But I wasn’t nearly done yet. No, not nearly.
Chaos magick-my chosen practice-has within it the concept that everything can be a medium of magick. Devices, your very body. In the case of the latter, intense orgasming with focus is a highly suggested method.
And I’m so very partial to cumming deep inside my partners.
I pulled my length from the jar, sweat breaking on my brow as I flipped it. Slick and throbbing, I pressed myself within the cunt. The jar slipped in my pacing and twisted along my girth, tightening upon me with a passion I’d not experienced in months. Within its embrace I started manically bucking deeper. Every thought, every action lead to a single goal.
Give.
Give in to me.
Fill me, love me.
So I did. I gripped the counter, shoving my entire girth deeply within the toy. I coated its walls and let out a noise I’d not heard in a while. I stood there, warm in the afterglow of leaving my brain, deep within the cunt that had held me so tightly. I pulled away and watched myself drip from lit’s lips.
Still quivering.
Still wanting more.
Conclusion
Alright. All jokes aside.
The Succubus Jar is a surprising, pleasing and beautiful toy. The twists within the sleeve allow fantastic sensation, and while tight the toy was still able to take my entire length-something that’s been an issue with other toys here. With both ends capped, people will genuinely think it’s simply a desk statue, or a container for alcohol, pens or something more. Cleanup was the only part that was a bit difficult. Getting the sleeve out and cleaning it traditionally is super easy. Getting it back within the beautiful sleeve takes stuffing one end in, then pushing gently until the other end is at a point you can hook a finger and pull it through. But this is an extremely minor gripe for what’s a fantastic product.
But be warned.
This toy is intense. By far this gave me the hardest orgasm I’ve had in months, and I was genuinely breathless after. The walls clung to my cock as I pumped within, and had each buck pushing me that much closer to the edge.
For a little over thirty bucks, I highly recommend this over many of the tenga products in the same price range.
Enjoy, and remember deviants-channel those energies deep, now.