The Beginning of the Nightmare: The Grips of Seduction of an Empath
When I first met her, it felt like fate: I did not realize I was going to be lured into the grips of narcissism. She had just emerged from an abusive relationship—at least, that’s what she claimed. She described the horrors she endured at the hands of her ex, painting herself as a helpless victim.
And I, being an empath, felt compelled to save her. I wanted to be her protector, her hero. The moment I even thought about confronting her ex, something in my gut told me to pause.
I thank God I listened because looking back, I now realize I would have been fighting a ghost—an illusion she carefully crafted to manipulate me.
But the real trap wasn’t in her words. It was in her actions.
She moved with alarming speed. Love-bombing doesn’t even begin to describe what I experienced. She told me I was the most handsome man she had ever seen, the smartest, the sexiest. She showered me with attention and flattery, but there was something unsettling about it.
It wasn’t just admiration; it was possession.
I had never been pursued so aggressively before. She needed to be physically close to me, needed to be intimate right away. And when I resisted, when I said I wanted to take things slow, she became insistent.
The more I said no, the harder she pushed. And when I still wouldn’t budge, she suddenly became “understanding,” acting like she respected my boundaries—only to circle back later with another attempt. It was like she couldn’t process not getting what she wanted.
This wasn’t just desperation; it was the spirit of Lilith, an ancient demon associated with the grips of seduction, unchecked lust, and the destruction of men through manipulation.
In many cultures, Lilith is seen as a night spirit that preys on men, using allure to ensnare them before draining them of their essence. She doesn’t accept rejection—she demands submission.
And eventually, I caved.
One night, we drank. Not just a few drinks—but enough to dull my senses, to break my resolve. She had been pushing for intimacy since the moment we met, and that night, with the alcohol blurring my judgment, I stopped resisting.
And that’s when I met Succubus, the demon of forced seduction and grips of sexual energy manipulation.
Unlike Lilith, who operates through allure and entrapment, Succubus thrives on the act itself—on taking what she wants by any means necessary. She feeds off a man’s energy, luring him into a state where resistance is impossible.
That night wasn’t passion. It wasn’t romance. It was possession.
And after that, she knew she had me.
A Trophy, Not a Partner: The Possessiveness Unveiled
As our relationship progressed, her behavior became even more bizarre. No matter where we went, I felt like an object—something for her to show off. If another woman so much as looked my way, she noticed. And not just noticed—she claimed me in front of them.
I remember the first time I realized what was happening; but I was already slipping
A mutual friend of ours, another woman, had been open about her attraction to me. She had no idea that my ex, who at the time was just getting to know me had her sights set on me, too.
When she approached to talk to us, my ex immediately switched into a different mode. She clung to me, inserted herself into the conversation, and sent every nonverbal signal that I belonged to her. The moment the other woman left, she turned to me and whispered with a smug smile:
“She thought she was going to get you, but I have you.”
At the time, I laughed it off. But that wasn’t love. That was Astaroth, the demon of possessiveness and rivalry. Historically depicted as a fallen angel, Astaroth thrives in fostering jealousy, making one believe that others are constantly a threat to their standing.
He encourages competition, not for growth, but for dominance. she wasn’t even my wife, let alone exclusively in a relationship with me yet, she layered her territory, she wasn’t afraid of losing me—she needed to prove to herself and others that she owned me.
It became a pattern. No matter who the woman was, no matter how innocent the interaction, she had to insert herself as the victor. It wasn’t about us; it was about her victory over them.
Another incident that she sunk her grips and teeth into me was when she invited me to a boat ride…
I should have known what was coming when we were on that boat ride.
We got on the boat and decided to split up and have fun, I had no problem with that because I can adapt anywhere, after a short while, my ex was having a blast, dancing and mingling with everyone, completely carefree.
I was doing my own thing and then I ran into an old friend—a woman I had always respected—who was making major strides in her career.
She was moving up the ranks in the same company my father worked in, and I was genuinely proud of her. After talking and dancing for a few moments, my ex’s “flying monkeys” saw us, and immediately reported it back to her, and suddenly she was in my face, acting clingy and territorial.
After she “pissed on my hydrant,” my friend laughed it off and walked away, telling me to enjoy myself.
My ex asked, “Who is that?” I explained it was a friend I’d known for years, and she just said, “Hummph whatever,” before walking off with her friends leaving me by myself again, gossiping about how “disrespectful” it was for me to dance with someone—
even though she’d been doing the same, crazy thing was we weren’t even in a relationship.
Later that night after the boat ride was over, the same friend offered me a ride home after noticing I was stranded. As I crouched by her car, we had a casual conversation, and she said, “I’ll drop you off.”
But just as I got in, I heard tires screeching like a scene from a crime movie—it was my ex, yelling, “Are you getting in or not?” I didn’t even know where she came from. LITERALLY the parking lot was empty, it was like she was lurking in the trees or something.
My friend, seeing the drama, said, “Looks like you’re set. We’ll catch up soon,” and drove off. The entire ride home with my ex felt like an episode of Judge Judy—uncomfortable, unnecessary, and completely over the top.
Years later, I was reading a magazine and saw that same friend featured, ironically, it was the same publication my dad was featured in, WOW I said to myself, that is awesome, I am so proud of her!
I casually showed my ex-wife the magazine feature that highlighted her success. Instead of sharing in my pride, she exploded.
“Why do you care what she’s doing?”
“I’m the one you’re with now! She doesn’t matter!”
She yanked the magazine from my hand and threw it aside before grabbing my face and forcefully kissing me.
But the look in her eyes wasn’t passion—it was something else, further pushing me into the grips of her demonic behaviors .
At that moment, I saw a different face. A face I didn’t recognize. 
This was Leviathan, the demon of envy and twisted communication. In theological texts, Leviathan is known for sowing discord through pride and distorting reality. He feeds off of jealousy and turns admiration into the grips of competition.
What I thought was a simple moment of celebration was, to her, an attack on her importance. She couldn’t stand that I was proud of another woman’s accomplishments. In her mind, there was only room for her.
Moving in together should have been a milestone, but in many ways, it was the beginning of the end. We found a gorgeous apartment—almost as beautiful as the bachelor pad I had before we met. When she first saw where I lived back then, she was in awe.
“I can’t believe this is yours. Why would you even want to be with me? I have nothing like this.”
I didn’t think much of it at the time, but looking back, this was Belphegor, the demon of sloth and comparison. He fosters self-doubt, making people measure their worth by material things rather than character.
Instead of celebrating what we were building together, she was consumed by what she lacked in comparison to me.
Her insecurities festered into control. My time for the gym, my time for myself—it all vanished. Every moment was hers to dictate. Even when my coworkers threw me a baby shower, she found a way to make it about her.
“Why can’t I go? I’m the one carrying the baby!”
When I explained that security restrictions wouldn’t allow it, she demanded that the event be moved. And when that didn’t happen, the gifts—the love—meant nothing to her.
This was Mammon, the demon of greed and self-importance. No matter how much she received, it was never enough. If she wasn’t the center of attention, the entire event was worthless.
Today, I have finally Broke Free from the Grips of Darkness
Twenty-four years. Two decades of slow, deliberate destruction. I lost myself in that time, but I found myself in the end.
I see the demons now. I recognize their names, their patterns. And if you’re reading this, I want you to recognize them, too.
Because the scariest thing about demons?
They don’t come to you with horns. They come disguised as love.
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