August 2019 Bonus Story [Just a little late]

Hey all!

Okay, I had an absolute ball writing this, it was very fun! Outside of my usual dominion in all the right ways.

Winning prompt:  An angel captured, at the mercy of a demoness noblewoman.  

Suggested by: SixArmedSweater (Thanks Quinn!)

~2251 words

CW:

• Demon/Angel
• Light d/s
• Light descriptions of pain
• Chains, metaphorical and otherwise
• Kissing
• Falling. Not like, falling over, but like, angel falling from heaven kind of falling
• Complimentary wing removal

~~~

You’ve come so far now. Fled past the gate, through the plains of still, wispy air and golden clouds, through the cool sky, down the mountain, past the world and all it’s motion. As far as you could fly, as fast as you could, lest you be caught, and dragged back home through the cold machinations of duty and service.

And now you stand at the mouth of the cave. By and large unassuming, but it’s so terribly dark. So dark that when you reach out your hand to be covered in it’s shade it feels like a physical thing, tickling warm along your skin. Are you sure this is the right choice?

You see a shadow pass overhead, and it steels your nerves and you rush inside.

Warmer within than without, twisting, labyrinthine paths that change directions yet never stop leading you down.

To cramped to fly, you feet aching from having to trod the hard stone, you continue. You don’t know for how long. It could be an hour. It could be a week. You’d believe either. Walk on in a haze, lost and lonely.

Until you are standing on an overlook. And you see the palaces before you, black stone and spires, impossibly thin and strange. And feel the heat on your face, as magma pours lazily down the walls of the cavern behind you. You can’t see the far wall. This room underground seems to stretch forever.

And you see the guards coming. And you throw yourself to your knees on the carved stone landing, holding up your wrists to be bound.

“I surrender myself. Bring me wherever you bring wayward souls such as this.”

You peek up at the guards and see their wicked grins as they look at each other. One speaks, with sinister purpose.

“Oh little lost seraph, we know exactly where to bring you.”

You shudder to think what that might mean.

~~~

“Mm, you find yourself in a bit of a state, no?”

Her voice is satin and smolder. You don’t look up at her face, but you can hear the smirk. You do not respond.

“Aww, you nervous? Why don’t you start by telling me how you ended up here.”

“You know damn well how!”

You jerk your head up, snapping at her, catching her bemused expression and.. Ah.. You may not have thought that move through enough. Because now she’s caught your eyes with hers and her eyes are like the sun in eclipse and it hurts to look but you cannot turn away. And she knows this and she smiles and says.

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it again.”

Being backed into a corner like this makes your stomach drop in an annoyingly exciting way. She’s so smug about it, so sure that she’s in control. And, ah, well. She definitely is. But that doesn’t mean she has to be so cocky about it!

“I. I came here because...”

“Mhmm?”

“Because I didn’t feel right up there anymore..”

Your halo shivers, it’s golden light dimmed this deep in Hell’s Court.

“So, you thought you’d throw yourself at the boundless mercy of Hell and see what happened?”

She’s leaning close now, and reaches out with the back of her hand to stroke your cheek. The contact with her skin sends a warm shudder through you. A tiny gasp escapes. It takes you a few seconds to respond.

“Is- Is this hazing? Are you hazing me right now?”

She laughs deeply, an honest expression of joy. The dwellers of the deep always claim honesty as their very own, after all.

“Hell is not a sorority, dear. I’m only treating you this way because I can tell you like it.”

You let out what just may be the least dignified noise you’ve made in your life. And it’s been a long life.

“ExcUSE ME!!”

“The chains, the snide, the fire and brimstone. The drama! Angels who are about to fall love that shit. Eat it right up.”

“I’m! Not! I didn’t say!!”

She laughs and takes a seat in front of you, modestly folding her skirts. Black dress, all lace and frill and style. A noblewoman. You’d hardly know she’s a demoness but for the eyes, and the horns. You’re on the floor, of course, bare without your robe, on your knees with your arms bound behind your back. Wings too. All six of them.

“Look, you don’t have to be ashamed, it happens all the time. Angel drops from heaven, looking for freedom and a change of pace, that’s a monthly occurrence. And, unsurprisingly, a good number have got it in their heads that there’s something real. Exciting. About having their wings clipped.

You fail to hold back a whimper at her wording.

She plants her feet apart and leans forward, a far less modest pose. Taking your face in one hand, her thumbnail pressing sharp against your cheek.

“It’s okay to let if feel good, little seraph. Letting go feels good. Indulging yourself feels good. Let me unbind your chains and I can promise it will be the most blissful experience of your life.”

You swallow hard, looking at her, words lost for a moment. Then you raise your arms to offer her the cuffs that keep you bound.

She chuckles, and gestures over your head.

“The other chains.”

You realize what she means. Of course. This is why you came. To be free. To be, you.

So, unable to break eye contact.

You nod.

“Then let’s begin.”

She takes the chain your cuffs are connected to in her hand and yanks you forward, you eyes wide with surprise as she pulls your lips against hers. Then, heavily lidded as her long tongue slides into your mouth, rolling against yours, tasting you. Your eyes flutter as she continues, tiny moans escaping your lips when she shifts enough for you to draw breath, everything in the world evaporating in that moment aside for this kiss.

A droplet hits your face, hot. Then another. You turn your eyes up to see the bright gold of your halo running, dripping, melting. Like an icicle in an inferno. It spatters on your face, drop by drop, each line steaming but not hurting.

In fact.

It feels really good.

You’re leaning further into the kiss, arching your back, whining and squirming and whimpering. She strokes your cheek with one hand, wiping away golden droplets as if they were so many tears. You feel hot. You’re burning up from the inside. With need and want and heat and things you never had the words to say but knew deep down that you were missing, you knew it you knew you wanted… Ah!!!

Your back is on fire! Little rivers of molten divine metal pour down your shoulders in unnatural patterns, burning lines into your skin that ache with a horrible pleasure. Your wings twitch and flap weakly in their bonds, as the base of each is encircled by golden, liquid fire. You writhe in place, all sense of separation between pain and pleasure lost in this blissful moment of unholy delight.

The demoness pulls back, just a little, just a moment. Looks on your face contorted with pleasure with pride. Such pride! Devils are such prideful things!

“You’re doing well, little fallen one. I’ve snapped your collar. Now I must see to those wings. For what use are wings when the world is a cage you are trapped in?”

And the rings of liquid metal start to draw shut. Your wings thrash, breaking their bonds and rising around you, against your will, desperately trying to take you away, to bring you back, you can’t go back, you can’t-

But her hands on your shoulders steady you. And your back aches and burns and you cry tears of joy and suffering and everything hurts but it’s so good, it feels good, this is what freedom tastes like and now you’ll never be able to stop-

The circles close.

And your wings are gone, with just a few white feathers drifting lazily in the air as a fleeting reminder that they were ever there. You let out a rush of breath. A sheer, unrelenting expression of relief, of release.

She leans back in her chair, touching her lips and looking proud of herself as you pant and whine.

“Mm, you’re a good kisser. Most angels are to wiggly, it’s like kissing wet tissue paper. Guess you’re a natural demon.”

You look at her again, still shaking, feeling so good and small and helpless but at the same time unbound and vile and wonderful.

“How does it feel to be fallen?”

It takes you real minutes to collect yourself enough to speak. Aftershocks dance through your body, making you quake every few moments. She waits patiently for you to respond.

“I.. Ahh.. It..”

Deep breath.

“That. It feels. It feels good.”

She snaps and the shackles on your wrists drop. You rub your wrists, then reach up to touch the side of your head.

“Um..”

“Something wrong?”

“Maybe this is a dumb question, but. Horns?”

She laughs and smiles and stands and reaches a hand down to help you up.

“Not a dumb question at all.”

She’s being so much nicer now, you really appreciate it. You’re a little shaky after… that. And a little softness is exactly what you need to keep you level.

“Most things are not instantaneous. You’ve spent so long being told who and what to be that it will take time for you to figure out who and what you really are. But now, you’re free to discover. Changes come with time, and introspection.”

“Can. Can I see?”

“See what?”

“Me, but m-mostly my back.”

“Oh, how thoughtless of me. Come.”

Taking your hand, she leads you from the.. Reception room? To a sort of antechamber, with a more casual sitting area, and, notably, a floor length mirror. She brings you to it, holding you steady lest you quivering legs betray you. It’s hard to balance all of a sudden, without all the weight on your back. Yes, the wings. But also. There was something else, you didn’t realize until it was finally gone.

Standing before the mirror, you finally remember that you are naked. You blush, but the demoness seems so at ease with your lack of attire that you decide to let it stand for now.

“I’ll give you a moment.”

You nod.

You look, mostly the same. A little disheveled. The remains of your halo have seemingly evaporated. It’s so strange to see yourself without it? And without the many wings which marked you as a Higher Angel. You turn your shoulder, see the scars tracing down your shoulder blades, lines leading into circles, making the spots your wings were clipped from. A strange sort of sigil indeed. They look as if the burns happened months ago. Not a wound. Just scars.

“Do the scars ever fade?”

“Hm. Perhaps if you truly detested them they would vanish with time. Most keep them as a badge of honor. I kept mine.”

Turning, you look at her curiously.

“You have the same scars?”

She turns away from you, slipping her dress down her shoulder with a playful look. You see a scar line, connected to a circle.

“We all have a past, no?”

You look back into your reflection, curiously noting the little ring of bright orange that has formed around your pupil.

“I suppose so.”

You hesitate, and she senses it.

“If you want something, please feel free to ask.”

You take a deep breath, still meeting your own eyes in the mirror. They are so. Pretty.

“Please tell me if this is inappropriate, but. Will you kiss me again?”

You hear her chuckle, and she is standing so close, you can feel the heat of her body. Her hands touch your hips, then slowly slide up your back, tracing the twin channel paths of your scars, which makes you shiver with delight. It’s so sensitive there now.

One hand rests on your shoulder, the other continues up, wrapping lightly around your throat, her thumb on your chin, tilting your head up, and you look up, at her, into her eyes, like sun in eclipse, she’s so tall, she’s looking down at you, she’s infernally beautiful, unfairly beautiful, you feel hunger stirring inside you, in your chest, boiling sharper than you ever felt before. How could you not have noticed how dull your own senses were before? Everything is so sharp and new, and she brings her lips to your ear, and whispers with that voice of satin and smolder.

“It would be my pleasure.”

And her lips reach yours and your hands come up, and you can taste her, your tongues meet and tangle, you grab her long, curved horns and hang onto them, to keep her close, for dear life, desperate and hungry and thirsty and drowning in sheer want, inescapable and loud. You can’t get enough, you want more and more, please more, give me more, I’m famished, I’m starving, I’m parched and I need so much more you say, your voice lit with embers from deep inside, full of truth and heat and freedom and need and she smiles and says than I shall make sure that you drink your fill, there is more than enough to go around here, in my palace.

You are burning up from the inside.

And, that fire never fades.