*All characters are 18+. This is a work of fiction for erotic entertainment only. Real-life sex should always be with enthusiastic consent.*
Copyright 2024 Sastri Vera
***
It should have been easy to avoid a seraph. It would have been if Saharael hadn't declared me his understudy.
The position should have been an honor.
"Lady Lyriel."
I stood before him, my wings rigid, my spine straight. The thin white dress, the same as all female angels wore, now felt too revealing. I hoped my face didn't show my fear.
His face revealed nothing of our encounter. He looked entirely unchanged, as divine and perfect as he should be.
As I knew he wasn't.
I bowed. "Seraph."
He disappeared. I felt a cold presence at my back. My muscles stiffened. He wouldn't do anything -- not here, not in the open skies where anyone could see.
Icy fingers grazed my wings. I didn't dare breathe.
"Up," he commanded. His fingers nudged at the bottom curve of my inner wings. Frost shivered my feathers. "Straighten your posture, girl. Everything you do now represents me, and I will not have laziness in my ranks."
I lifted my wings slightly, squared my shoulders. His touch was a cold trail on my spine.
"Be glad I chose you. You require discipline, lest you become a fallen angel."
Guilt sagged my wings for only a moment before his cold lashed like a whip across my butt cheeks. My thin dress did nothing to soften the blow. I hastily raised my wings. He brushed a few of my feathers, straightening them. Sparks of fear and horrible desire crawled down my back. Here? I couldn't experience lust here. That had been the demon's doing, none of mine.
"I'm glad you understand. You'll do well with me, Lady Lyriel."
"Thank you, seraph," I breathed. Where better could I find redemption than with a seraph? Unless he realized how depraved I'd become.
He drifted away, his cold aura fading. I didn't dare relax my wings.
On the edge of a cliff overlooking a lake of holy water, he floated a short distance above the rock. No one else was here, not a glimpse of a wing in the distance, but he made quite the sight to me. Beautiful. Terrible.
"You will accompany me during the day. Observe and take notes. Compare with my scribe at the end of each day, and report to me the next morning. I want your opinions."
"Yes, seraph."
His hand waved in dismissal. I fled.
His scribe was a small, quiet female who couldn't seem to meet my eyes. Sereni's filing system was extremely efficient, however. With a delicate shorthand, she noted not only the words but every detail--the exact time, facial expressions, gestures. History recorded exactly as it happened. I wondered if there was a scribe for the history of Hell.
Our days were mundane. We discussed human philosophy, of all things. I was allowed brief hints of song as he wove history into divine hymns. If his voice was beautiful when he spoke, it was enrapturing when he sang.
The seraph behaved as I'd imagined a seraph and teacher should. My fear became wary respect. As the days passed, the seed of doubt grew. Saharael had only punished me as I deserved, was teaching me to despise what my body desired.
So it was all the more appalling that I hungered for his touch. I didn't even dare think of the demon.
Today, the seraph summoned me to Venus, the planet of lovers. If he was sending a message with this location, I didn't understand it.
He lifted a hand as I approached, signaling that I should not speak. Observation in silence. I'd come to appreciate his presence in these quiet moments. His cold was diminished. He was still and serene. Dependable. An anchor for the chaos in my soul.
Into the silence, his commanding voice rumbled like soft thunder, "Purity of mind. Purity of soul. Is that not correct, my lady?"
"Of course, Seraph."
He smiled. Warmth bloomed in my chest. His approval was rare, and I valued it beyond anything. Perhaps with his blessing, my disgrace might be erased. No, not erased -- I dared not forget. But my soul might be purged of sin, at least. Renewed. Forgiven.
I needed his forgiveness.
"I have a task for you, Lyriel." He used my name often. He would certainly never forget.
"Hell is planning something. They always are, as mayhem is the poor creatures' natural inclination. There's no need for concern. But we have an opportunity. The Lord of the Second Circle seems to be fond of you."
The seraph wanted me to return to Hell. I felt as cold as though his aura surrounded me. Then heat curled in my stomach, climbing to my cheeks in embarrassment. Amusement seemed to tint Saharael's eyes.
"The demon knows you. He has a taste for you. Use it to your advantage."
He floated close, lifting my chin with a finger. "You've come a long way. Continue on this path, let me guide you, and all will be well. Do you trust me?"
His voice was soothing, his eyes calm, and his touch only carried a hint of the chill I'd felt before. It still reminded me of how cold he'd felt inside me. I should've been afraid.
His eyes fell to my mouth. My lips parted.
Wanting a seraph. And after what he'd done to me... My body couldn't be so corrupt. I hovered backward an inch, just out of reach, and bowed to cover my horror.
"Of course, seraph. I'll report back immediately."
I didn't want a demon, but he had been gentle. Desiring the seraph's brutality was worse. Wasn't it?
I shouldn't want either. I couldn't.
This unbearable, incomprehensible need was ridiculous. And more embarrassing every day. I couldn't focus, couldn't think.
My wild dive into Hell wasn't so precise as my first foray into this dark realm. I felt like an autumn leaf spinning in the blustering winds, careening carelessly, helplessly, and more confused with every moment. What I wanted and who I should be collided. I was looking for a demon, this time. The demon who had ravished me.
The demon who haunted my dreams and waking hours.
Asmodai was gliding lazily in the chaotic storm when I nearly crashed into him. I should have been ashamed at the relief I felt when I saw his widespread wings and long tail. I should have resented him, hated him.
My heart soared, and I put on a burst of speed, surprising him. We spun in the air, my legs wrapping around his waist, his eyes wide and amused. The wind blew aside my dress. I drew myself to his body, felt the heat of his cock against my stomach.
Yes
. Something inside me cried out.
He obliged. We hadn't exchanged a word and his cock was already buried inside me. I couldn't say which one of us thrust first or harder.
My head flung back and I gasped. This was better than yearning for a seraph. The least Saharael could do was kill me for this terrible desire. Should do. He should destroy me--
"Aren't we eager today, darling," Asmodai purred. "Not that I mind. Ah, I don't mind at all." He held us both in the air, my wings limp as he pumped into my body, his hands roaming all over my body. I clutched his arms, feeling his muscles flexing beneath my fingers.
"Asmodai--" I hissed as he slid in and out of me, the intense feeling of his thick shaft all I could think of.
"Don't talk. You don't need to say a thing, darling."
I fell into his voice, into the sensations taking over my body and mind. This was simpler. This was good. Everything felt so good.
The winds buffeted us as we writhed in the air. He kept us from smashing into the rocks. I couldn't. I couldn't do anything more than hang onto him and feel, the strength and heat of him around me more comforting than the last month I'd spent as Saharael's student.
Had it been a month already? He said I was making progress. Could he see me now? I shuddered.
"Let go," I whimpered, suddenly ashamed. Yet my arms and legs wouldn't release the demon.
"You first, little bird," Asmodai breathed.
Naturally. The demon wouldn't make this easy for me. Why had Saharael sent me? If this was a test, I had failed spectacularly.
Asmodai bent his head to my neck, pressing his soft, warm lips to my skin. Where the seraph chilled me, the demon melted me. I knew I should resist what he did to my flesh. I knew I should reject and fight him.
That hadn't helped before, had it?
Weak excuse as it was, I reminded myself that a seraph had sent me. I was doing my duty. The demon was stronger than me. He had already proven he could take me by force. By not wasting my strength, I might have a chance to surprise him later. And I could relieve myself of this ache.
The tight, curling ache as his thick cock thrust deep inside me again and again. My panting breaths were lost to the wind, my moans added to the howling chorus all around us. Hard muscle tensed against my skin as his fingers found the sensitive edge of my wings. I clung to him tighter, molded my body around me.
"Sweet lady," Asmodai purred. "I missed your soft feathers. I missed your delightful noises, the way you tried so hard not to cry out when you came for me. Can you come for me again, little bird? Come, angel. Come!"
"Asmodai!" I screamed. Passion exploded in that cry -- rage, fear, despair, pleasure -- and perhaps another emotion I refused to acknowledge. Need? My body convulsed with the same strength of feeling, my inner walls twitching, waves of ecstasy crashing through my mind, my body, my soul.
In that moment, I lost myself to warmth and pleasure, letting a demon -- a demon of all things! -- cradle me in his intimate embrace.
He was a tantalizing creature. And kind, in his way. Remarkably gentle.
Temptation itself.
Shame filled me as the pleasure waned. His deep groan in my ear was suddenly terrifying.
"Stop," I whispered. Begged. What would happen if he finished inside me?
He growled, the sound shivering down my spine. "You're such a tease, little bird. Are you sure?"
"Let me go." My voice hardened, and my legs curled away. I had instigated this.
He paused. His eyes glowed. "The next time you offer yourself to me, I won't hold back. I am not your toy, angel."
I flinched. He didn't move for a few seconds more, then his cock withdrew, and his fingers gently combed my hair. "Are you just here to irritate me? A dangerous past-time, I must warn you."
My wings lifted as I tried to flit away, but he held me close. I didn't struggle. "Seraph Saharael sent me to watch you." There went my excuse.
"Saharael." His face was blank as he scanned my body. Then his usual smirk appeared and he raised a brow. "You make a terrible spy."
I didn't respond.
He lifted my chin. "Why else are you here?"
My face heated, but there was indeed a reason that had nothing to do with either of my tormentors. So I asked, "Is there a way out of Hell for a mortal soul?" and avoided admitting how my body ached for him. David wouldn't rise without at least an archangel's aid, but I couldn't risk anyone looking too closely at what I was doing here.
