Writer: Unknown
Subject: Fallen From Heaven 1
Link: Faustian Fables from Faust / 20.01.2025
Synposis: Charming the Devil Prince / Indulging the Blue-Skinned Succubus
Fallen From Heaven 1
In his castle in the outer realms of Hell, the orange-skinned demon Lord Dworcer conducts business as he is accustomed to, inside his opulent limestone bedchamber, dressed in colorful robes and jewelry, and extracting carnal pleasure from a female, bent over, and locked in stocks; in this case, a noble devil woman captured in a costly raid of a Perditus Special Forces escort.
Except for Lord Dworcer, the devil is obscured by fencing so that only her red wings, black horns, spade-tipped tail, and the tips of her supple red ass cheeks are visible—the latter of which the Lord is mounted onto. “You understand what you’re getting yourself into?” he turns and asks before the pumping resumes. His bloated orange belly jiggles with each thrust.
Like all fallen angels, Cadriel has wings with black feathers and a halo that has lost its holy shine and now glows white. His face is scruffy, with a black beard and hair cut short. Dressed in a white robe, his steel shortsword is holstered in a leather scabbard on the right of his belt. Most fallen angels follow one of two paths.
They either settle in Perditus, an evil devil city that at least has some semblance of law and order, or they roam the outer realms as a bloodseeker, slaughtering as many demons as they can until they’re slain. He chose the latter path only to survive long enough to become world-weary and cynical.
“I’m to enter Perditus, infiltrate the devil Prince Fazir’s inner circle, earn his trust, and await further instructions. Is there anything I missed?”
The devil noblewoman gasps and pants.
Lord Dworcer lets up, turns, and faces Cadriel.
“I meant, are you up to this task? Admittedly, I know little about angels. The Prince is an indulgent reprobate. To ingratiate yourself with him will require leaping into an abyssal pit of vice. Are you sure this doesn’t conflict with your inner nature?”
Lord Dworcer pumps the noblewoman. He smirks when he notices a wedding band on her left clawed hand.
“Milord, with all due respect, the light of Heaven stopped shining on me a long time ago. I’m a mercenary now. Whatever it takes to get the job done is what I’ll do. The only thing inside me is cold indifference and want of coin.”
Lord Dworcer fucks his moaning slave and doubts the angel’s assurances. He doesn’t trust Cadriel. There’s a reason the angel is here in Hell and not Heaven. His other option is another raid on Periditus Special Forces. His people would have to kidnap a devil male and turn him. The demon lord slams his pelvis, causing the restrained noblewoman to yelp. A woman like this would not do. First of all, he feels women are traitorous by nature, and secondly, Prince Fazir would not view any female as anything but a toy to be played with.
The Lord scratches his chin and hesitates. Neither option is a good one. However, given the recent casualties, he is reluctantly inclined to deploy the angel mercenary.
#
In a large limestone room full of many tables, Prince Fazir sits alongside a small male entourage. A vividly colored tablecloth depicting murals of Perditus’s history decorates the table, atop which sits a large platter holding a whole baked pig with a red apple stuffed in the mouth below its snout. Also on the table are two bottles of wine, one white and one red, several glasses, and two ornate brass candlesticks illuminating the table, crackling and popping. The devils sip wine and use their claws to pull crispy skin off the carcass, which crunches inside their mouths.
The room smells of roast meat and rich spices. A red-skinned devil woman in a low-cut yellow dress kneels and plays the harp, over which sounds the din of conversation, laughter, business, and pleasure.
Two devils approach. The Prince can tell they’re his race because of their redskin. Scarlet hues are unique to the devils, although they can be present in halfbreeds with Gh’ulzor. Halfbreeds are also considered Gh’ulzor, a devil term that means inferior and worthless and is usually used to refer to demons. One of the men wears a prosecutor’s long, flowing black robes. The other is dressed as a civilian in a tan robe. The approaching devils have gray beards, and the civilian is bald.
Prince Fazir feels a lump in his throat. This didn’t look good at all. The Prince has red skin and dark gray ribbed horns that come up off the sides of his head for about two feet until pointing in slightly as if pointing at each other.
He wears a dark blue waist-high robe with text written in gold in the devil alphabet while his muscular torso and red bat-like wings are bare. Gold rectangles shaped like piano keys hang from a necklace around his neck, dark blue leather gauntlets cover his wrist, and his clawed hands are full of rings adorned with rare gems. His black hair runs down to the bottom of his neck, and he has a narrow, pointed beard.
“Sorry to interrupt your meal, Your Highness,” the Prosecutor says. “This man has accused you of committing a crime. I will need to interrogate you.”
The Prosecutor isn’t required to read the Prince his rights because all devils must complete law school, and all are considered lawyers. Perditus is run by a series of Devil Lords who have differing responsibilities. This means there are many princes and princesses in the megalopolis. The devils believe no one is above the law, including royalty, but also that many legal arguments, loopholes, and matters are open to interpretation.
“Then this man is a liar,” the Prince says, performatively narrowing his eyes at the man, flaring his nostrils, and raising his spade-tipped tail. “I’ve never committed a crime in my life!”
“That’s a damned lie,” the bald devil spits, snarls, and raises his clawed hands. “This man knowingly induced someone into breaking a contract. Specifically, it was my wife and our marital contract.
Fazir sips wine, smirks, crosses his arms across his chest, and wiggles his brow. “I would never do such a thing!” he insists.
The entourage at the table, including the Prince, burst into laughter.
Fazir recognizes this cuckold. He forgets the name of the place. It’s near one of the brothels he patrons. The cuckold got lost on account of drunkenness or sheer stupidity. The Prince found his wife disoriented in a cobblestone alley. She had fat tits that hung out the top of the low-cut dress she wore alongside gaudy makeup.
He steadied her, nibbled her earlobe, brushed his tail against her thigh, and pressed one of his clawed fingers up between her legs before trailing the tip up and down her wet slit through the fabric of her undergarments. Not long after, her panties were around her ankles, her fat tits out jiggling, and she was bent over as he thrust in and out of her holding her tail, the tip of which swelled and dripped feminine secretions that ran down his hand and arm. It was dark outside, and after he soiled her nasty pussy, he pushed her down into a pile of garbage and animal refuse, pulled his robe back up, returned to the bar, and ordered another wine.
“Given your flippant denial, I take it you’re not disputing the allegation?” the Prosecutor asks.
The Prince hesitates, opens his mouth, and shuts it. “Well, you see,” he stammers.
“His Highness is innocent,” Cadriel says as he approaches the table. His right hand instinctively hovers slightly above the scabbard.
The devils turn, and several gape at the sight of the fallen angel.
“This man is an outsider!” the cuckold objects with a snarl. “He knows nothing of our laws!”
“This cuckold has no evidence the Prince knew his wife was married when he fornicated with her,” Cadriel explains.
The table is awash with snickering.
“That’s true, I had no idea!” Fazir lies.
“She wore a wedding ring!” the cuckold objects.
“Have you seen his wife?” Fazir asks the Prosecutor. “I ask for you to take one look at her chest. Trust me, whatever’s on her claws are not the gems any man would be focused on.”
Fazir grins crookedly and puffs out his chest.
The Prosecutor turns to the cuckold and asks, “Do you have any evidence he knew your wife was married? The… outsider might be overstepping bounds but is not incorrect about the law.”
The cuckold’s neck cords and skin mottles, and he pulls back his lips, revealing his sharp teeth. “You are a lying son of a whore!” he screams, slips a dagger out his sleeve, and lunges at Prince Fazir.
Cadriel, who has slayed more demons than he can even remember, without thinking, unsheaths his sword, scrapes it against its scabbard, and rapidly draws it to the cuckold’s neck just as he is inches from plunging the dagger into the Prince’s neck.
“Drop it now!” Cadriel demands with a snarl. “I was a bloodseeker. I’ve taken lives like I have breaths. Culling the weak and pathetic is my instinct.”
The cuck does as he’s told, and some of the larger members of the Prince’s entourage help the Prosecutor place him into iron restraints.
“Thank you,” Fazir addresses Cadriel. “I have had only a few encounters with angels. I appreciate you defending me. You did a better job than my bodyguards. You’re welcome to join us for dinner… and post-dinner entertainment.” He smirks and winks at the fallen angel.
Cadriel stabs the pig carcass with his short sword, raises pork to his lips, crunches his teeth against the hard skin, tastes well-seasoned and juicy flesh, and leaves gristle in his scuffed beard. He is hungry.
#
The cerulean-skinned demon succubus straddles Cadriel’s lap, rubs her panty-covered crotch against his own, and jives to weaving rhythmic patterns of loot strings, chimes, and piano notes. Her large, freckled, blue breasts spill out of a white robe so low-cut and high-bottomed that it almost resembles a towel wrapped around her buxom hourglass-shaped torso. She’s made up in indigo, complimenting her soft, light skin tone and supple lips. Her horns are short, ribbed, black, and wide and curl around the sides of her head where the tips fall just short of forming a circle. Her hair is black and curly.
Cadriel parts his lips, fidgets, feels his hands grow moist, and stares at her jiggling cleavage as she dances atop his lap. She smells of assaram perfume, a spice he only encountered in Hell, similar to a combination of cumin and cinnamon.
He lounges with the Prince in the lobby of some seedy basement brothel underneath a squalid brick, slum tenement building in which the landlord likely houses the prostitutes, really slaves, alongside other lowlife devils lacking coin.
Fazir sits on the same wide sofa, puffs his chest out, spreads out over the couch, tilts his jaw, and smirks.
An orange-skinned succubus atop the Prince has her bouncing tits out entirely and is dry-humping her crotch against his royal robe-covered groin.
The Prince grabs her jiggling orange tits with his clawed hands, squeezes them, and gently scratches a claw against her erect nipple. His swollen tail twists into a coil with her own, and the tips caress.
“These whores are feisty, yes?” Fazir asks, baring teeth, fondling soft tits, and winking at the fallen angel. “There are back rooms here with sturdy, brass-framed beds. If you are pleased with yours as much as I am with mine, we should have them to ourselves in privacy.”
Like all angels, Cadriel remained chaste in paradise. The light of Heaven kept him free of lustful thoughts and feelings. However, things changed after his fall. He first realized when he awoke to clear evidence of nocturnal emissions. Later when he slaughtered female demons, who, because of the degeneracy of their wicked race, were often slaves, hookers, drug addicts, and reprobates, his idle gaze often unconsciously focused on the anatomy of fornication. He would disembowel demons while they slept only to find himself, neck bristling and staring at their blood-stained breasts.
Cadriel could have raped his victims. He could have done whatever he wished with their lifeless corpses. His mind had thought as much. However, a part of him held out in opposition. He feels this part of him is on its deathbed.
Indulging in the Prince’s proposal would forfeit his virginity, signify his separation from that which is scared with that which is animal, and further divide him from the values instilled in him growing up in the Kingdom of Heaven.
He hesitates, opens his mouth before shutting it, and tilts his head.
He knows he will not ascend back to Heaven. His virginity is worthless. No one seeks to bed a virgin man. He hates demons but thinks there may be alternative channels to express that through other than slaughter.
“Yes, let’s,” the fallen angel agrees.
#
Cadriel stumbles a bit as he enters the back room. He drank wine during dinner, not according to his usual habits and discipline. He reasoned partaking in drinks would lower Prince Fazir’s suspicions of him.
The room is cool, wood-floored, and austere. A diaphanous bedsheet fails to conceal the stained, torn mattress underneath. As the Prince said, its headboard consists of sturdy brass bars that are easy to grab in instances one of the brothel’s tawdry whores needed help to bear the thrusting. The high traffic of male devils in and out of the brothel and the cruelty with which devils treat slaves likely made them necessary.
The blue-skinned succubus, named Nethilist, grabs him with her right-clawed hand, pulls him into her, wafts warm breath at his ear, and licks his hanging lobe.
Cadriel’s neck hair bristles, he sweats cold, and he feels his cock stir in his pants. He wasn’t used to this, but he thinks he wouldn’t mind changing that. Someone told him once that when done correctly, it can be the closest experience mortal creatures can have to experiencing the paradise of Heaven.
“You seem shy,” she says.
“I like to take my time.”
The soft tip of her spade-shaped tail slides up his thigh and underneath his white robe.
Cadriel’s lips part, and he gasps.
“Uh-huh,” she says, tugging at her outfit and causing it to tumble down to the sandstone floor. As he suspected, she wore nothing underneath. Her breasts were large, bounced readily, and her slick slit glistened in the flickering and crackling candlelight.
“Milord, may I use my lips to pleasure you?” Nethilist asks.
Her lips are glossed with indigo lipstick, plump and lush, and she wets them before puckering them for him
Her tail makes it inside his underwear, wraps around his cock, and jerks him.
“Y-yes…” he says before releasing a moan.
She kneels and uses her clawed fingers to unfasten his belt.
“W-wait…” Cadriel says and hesitates. It is against his instincts to leave himself vulnerable around a demon. Even in Lord Dworcer’s bedchamber, he was always one grasp away from Blood Edict.
She peers up at him, plumps out her lips, and imitates a sucking motion with her cheeks.
His penis stirs, and his body shivers.
“G-go ahead.”
The belt and scabbard fall to the wood floor with a thud. Her clawed hands peel open his robe, and she purrs as she grabs his hard cock with her right hand, jerking on it with her palm and tail. Her long pink tongue slides back and forth across the shaft before her tail uncoils from around it, and her plump indigo lips take the tip into her mouth before sucking it inside her unholy inlet.
He closes his eyes, relaxes his body, and moans.
The room smells of assaram and sweat and sounds of slurping and sucking.
She spits out his hard cock, grabs it with her left clawed hand, jerks it, and uses the claw of her right pointer finger to drag in a circular pattern across his testicles, demonstrating the sharpness of it while falling short of piercing his skin of drawing blood. While pumping the angel’s throbbing penis, her right claw traces up his shaft and tip to his hard flat abs and up his chest. She stands as the claw slides higher up his body.
He shivers, gasps, and feels his neck bristle.
She grabs his neck, squeezes him, and slams his body down against the bed.
His eyes fly open to find her on top of him, holding the claws of both of her hands to his throat.
His stomach flutters, his chest tightens, and his eyes gaze at the closed door to the room. With wide eyes, he swallows.
“You think I wouldn’t recognize you, bloodseeker?” Nethilist threatens with a snarl. “Was slaughtering my tribe not enough for you? You had to track me down and have me fellate you before turning the blade to my neck as well?”
He feels her sharp claws dig into his neck and jugular. He had acted foolishly. Demons are never to be trusted. They are scum that will turn on you the instant it suits their interests, which are typically to indulge as many vices as their bodies may endure. His breaths are shallow, and he sees no solutions to his predicament. If he struck her or tried to move away, she’d slash his throat, killing him instantly. The same if he shouted for help. He could try to persuade her, but it would be difficult. She was emotional, and her voice was tinged with contempt and hatred.
“They will kill you,” Cadriel warns.
Her body shivers, and tears fill her eyes. Her pupils are white, and her irises are yellow. “Of course they will,” she hisses. “You think I’m some fool? You think I wouldn’t sacrifice myself to kill someone who seeks the genocide of my race?”
His thoughts on this are mixed. Demons are selfish and rarely display qualities consistent with honor or sacrifice. On the other hand, they are emotional, easily enraged, and violent.
“Yes, I was a bloodseeker,” he admits. “I’ve retired from that path.”
“Liar!” she says with a snarl. “There is no retirement from bloodseeking. It is something your kind does to seek their own deaths. Angels aren’t cut out for Hell, so rather than try to make a life, they seek death through slaughter and battle. No matter how many of us you kill, Heaven will never take you back. You have no home anymore.”
“That’s not true! Many of my kind live in this city earning coin. Release me, and I’ll say nothing of this to your master. You will live to whore again.”
She digs her claws further into his skin, drawing a trickle of blood that runs down the left of his neck. “I don’t believe you!” she says.
“Look, if you kill me, you’ll only hurt your own kind. I’m in the city undercover on behalf of Lord Dworcer. My purpose is to gain the trust of Prince Fazir, the devil who I accompanied here. If I were a bloodseeker, I wouldn’t patronize a brothel or allow a succubus to fellate me. Bloodseeking is about purity. This is a matter of business.”
Nethilist tilts her head and blinks. “Lord Dworcer?” she asks. “But why?”
“I’m a mercenary. All I care about is coin. He pays well, so it must be important or lucrative work.”
She hesitates, opens her mouth only to shut it, sighs, shakes her head, releases her claws from his neck, and wipes tears from her eyes.
Cadriel dives off the bed, executes a combat roll, unsheaths his shortsword, Blood Edict, from the scabbard, turns, and faces the succubus. The blade glows teal in the presence of a demon. He considers killing her. It would be an easy explanation. He told the Prince he was a bloodseeker and could tell the truth. She attacked him because he killed her tribe. However, the Prince introduced him to the owner, whom he described as a longtime friend. Killing the succubus could sour his relationship with Fazir, making it impossible for him to complete his task.
“If you dare ever threaten me again, I will flay you alive, whore,” Cadriel threatens. “This blade cuts through demon flesh like butter. I may not be a bloodseeker anymore, but don’t mistake that for me not still holding demons in utter contempt. I do, and I think your race vile and degenerate. It’s not my intent to kill you but understand, slave, you are on the thinnest of ice.”
“I knew I should’ve just killed you,” she barks at him with a growl.
“Thin,” Cadriel responds with a growl of his own and raises the teal glowing blade. “Ice.”
She shrugs, climbs slowly off the bed, bends over, jiggles her fat breasts, and reaches with a clawed hand toward her robe.”
“Wait!” Cadriel orders. “I came to this room with a sordid purpose, which I intend to go through with. Every day I spend in this wretched place, I feel less like an angel and more just a man. My virginity is a burden I no longer wish to carry.”
She tilts her head, a wicked smile crosses her face, and licks her lips. “A virgin?” she asks as she shivers. She manipulates her hard nipples with the claws of each of her hands. “Mmm, I can relieve you of that, Milord. I’d be happy to warm your loins. I’m sure I’m not the only succubus who harbors dark fantasies of turning a bloodseeker with lust.”
She, like most demons, is corrupt and perverted. He isn’t surprised she would revel in pulling him further from Heaven, making him less pure and more like she is. His cock stirs again, and he strokes it with his left hand. His right holds on to the hilt of Blood Edict while he watches her play with her large, freckled, jiggling breasts.
She sits on the edge of the bed, spreads her legs, and slides a clawed finger inside her slit, it emerges soaking wet, and she rubs it against her enlarged clitoris.
He doesn’t trust her. “Lay your stomach on the bed,” he orders. Ideally, she should not be able to see where he is and what he is doing.
She grins wickedly, scoots off the bed, and does as he asks. Her shapely ass hangs in the air, and jiggles; she gives it a little shake for him before spreading her legs and showing her soaking slit. Wet, sweat-smelling discharge runs down both her smooth legs. The tip of her tail is swollen.
Cadriel stands behind her, holding his glowing sword. “Keep your head down against the bed,” he instructs. “I see you look up or try anything, and I will plunge this blade straight through your back.”
“Yes, milord,” she says, wiggles her ass, and shivers.
He mounts her well-ridden pussy with ease and begins to pump his cock inside her. Despite his suspicion that, like many succubi, her pussy is well-trafficked, he does not fear venereal disease or impregnation. Succubi are immune to sexual diseases and can’t reproduce with angels. It feels tight enough for him, causing him to shiver, part his lips, and release a grunt followed by a moan. He had dreamed of sex, but those failed to prepare him for how sensual the actual experience was. With every thrust, the blue cheeks of her supple ass shake.
Her spade-tipped tail swats at his left hand until he instinctively grabs it. “Yes, milord, please, squeeze,” She begs.
Cadriel blinks, pumps his cock inside his whore, and begins to squeeze the tip of her tail.
Gasping, Nethilist bites down on the mattress and tries to contain a force that causes her body to tremor and shiver. Her eyes close, her teeth give way, and a cascade of high-pitched moans pour out. The swollen spade-shaped tip of the tail erupts in sticky emissions.
While pounding the succubus, Cadriel releases her tail and holds his left hand to Blood Edict’s glow. He sees the substance sticking to both sides when he spreads his fingers. “What is this?” he asks.
“Mmm, just, unh, my cum. You should try some.”
Cadriel sniffs his hand, frowns, causes her ass to jiggle, pounds his penis into hot pussy, licks some of the sticky goop from his fingers, and soon feels his cock grow even harder inside of her. No wonder succubi are so driven to sex. Their hormones are potent libido boosters.
“Mmm, keep going, milord.”
The angel’s eyes close, his body shivers, and he feels warm and cold wash over him. His cock vibrates and twitches inside the succubi’s soaked slit. “You better savor every drop of my virgin seed, you filthy whore,” He orders before exploding inside her pussy, spraying his angelic white cum inside her nasty blue inlet. His lips part, and he moans.
She shakes back and forth on the bed, gasps, moans, and drips more secretions from her tail onto the wood floor.
Breathing heavily, Cadriel dismounts the whore, and takes a step back. He was skeptical, but she had very much made him a believer. He would be doing this again and often moving forward.
Some of the angel’s gooey load seeps out her swollen lips, only for the succubus’s tail to scoop it back inside her shaking body.
#
“You were in there for a while; what took you so long?” the Prince asks as Cadriel joins him in the brothel lobby.
“I like to role play,” Cadriel lies. He needs to come up with something fast. Nethilist knows his secrets, and he needs to assassinate her. He can’t leave her here either. Slaves have a habit of gossiping, whether with each other or, in the case of whores like her, with their clients. He could try to buy her, then, when he has an opportunity, slay her in private. The problem is he hasn’t been paid yet and can’t afford to buy a slave. He could sneak out of the city and return to Lmou to secure an advance from Lord Dworcer. That would take time, however, and risks the information leaking. Gossip is more valuable the fresher it is, something a succubus whore would be well aware of.
Another option is to ask Fazir for a loan. He doesn’t like this option because it makes him seem like he’s using the Prince. He has been trying to portray himself as a helpful ally this whole time, and asking him for a loan could be irritating. However, he also knows devils love their contracts, legalism, interest rates, and holding debt over others. That, however, creates another hazard.
Cadriel is out of time and makes a decision. “She was… amazing,” he says. “So much so, I think that I will buy her.”
The Prince tilts his head and blinks. “That good?” he asks before chuckling. “Can’t remember the last time I fucked the same woman twice. You sure it won’t be boring the second time?”
“I told you,” Cadriel says and shakes his head. “I like to role-play. It will be different every time. I’m a little light on…”
“Where are you staying?” Fazir interrupts.
“The Jade Mountain Inn.”
The Prince writhes his nose and shakes his head.
“That place is a dump. There isn’t even a dungeon there. I personally prefer to fuck whores, but if you like the whole pleasure slave thing, you need a dungeon for the whole experience. Look, you’re quite the exotic specimen. I’ve met your kind before, and honestly, angels are dull, boring prudes. You’re different. You were perfectly happy to drink with us devils and to accompany me to the brothel. Not only did you fuck the whore, you role-played with her and apparently enjoyed yourself. I’ve never heard of an angel who strayed from the path of a bloodseeker to indulge in all the pleasures Hell offers. There’s a curiosity in you that I’d love to cultivate if you’ll allow me. I have a spare room in my Princely Manor, which has a full dungeon. Work for me, and the room is yours. I’ll even put down the coin to purchase the whore. Consider it your starting bonus.”
Cadriel blinks. That went over better than he had predicted. “Offer, accepted,” he says.
“Great, let me negotiate the sale; I will have them deliver her to the dungeon with the other slaves.”
“Uhm, I’d actually prefer to keep her in my room,” Cadriel says.
The Prince raises an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders.
“If that’s your preference, would you like her in stocks or restrained to the headboard of your bed?”
Cadriel blinks, a smirk spreads over his face, and he puffs his chest out. Maybe he would have another round with her first before he kills her. “Restrained to the bed,” he answers.
“Great, I’ll have my people start working on your employment contract.”
#
Nethilist knows that the only reason the ex-bloodseeker purchased her is that he intends to kill her. She knows his secrets, which makes her a liability to him. Killing him first is not an option. This building is crawling with devils. She’d be caught and executed, likely in a much more brutal fashion than the angel would use to slay her.
There is little chance she can convince him to trust her. He is too prejudiced, and honestly, demons lie all the time. Her race does not waste its time pretentiously pretending to be saintly know-it-alls. They might not be so up on reading books, but only demons live life to its fullest hedonistic potential. No one fucks more passionately, seethes more angrily, or suffers the sting of sadness and humiliation than her race.
That leaves her with only one viable option. She has to make herself more useful to him than the risk of her betraying him. The easiest way for her to do so was through sex. She needs to convince him she is the sluttiest, nastiest woman he will ever hope to bed. He needs to believe there is no line she wouldn’t cross to do what turns him on.
The large bedchamber is constructed from sandstone and has large red-curtained windows that provide a view into the urban landscape of Perditus, which is currently dark and full of candlelit apartment buildings and offices. It features a large bed with an ornate wood-carved head and floorboards, a red comforter, a standing wooden wardrobe, and numerous tall, potted fern plants scattered around the room. Cackling candles illuminate the interior.
The entrance door buzzes before creaking open. Her master enters the room holding Blood Edict. The door slams shut behind him, and he scrapes the sword back into its scabbard. It was clever of him to make his enchanted sword into the key to his bedroom. If she killed him, she’d be trapped in the room because she couldn’t touch it without severely scalding herself.
Nethilist lounges naked on her master’s large bed, her neck collared and chained to the bed’s wood-carved headboard, and her clawed hands bound in iron behind her back. “Master,” she says, staring at him, nodding, and smiling, rattling and scraping the chain. “I’m so happy to be your new toy. Why don’t you join me? Your bed has plenty of room to accommodate us.”
Cadriel’s right-hand hovers above the Blood Edict hilt inside the scabbard.
Nethilist sweats cold, bites her lip, and clears her throat. “M-master,” she stammers. “Let me massage you. My last master worked me day and night. Now, I’m starved of touch. I need someone to lay with.”
“I’m not letting you out of those restraints.”
“Of course, master. Don’t worry; there are so many other ways I can massage you. Doing so with claws bound will only make the process more creative.” The chain scrapes and rattles as she sits up, pushes her jiggly freckled boobs together, puckers her juicy indigo lips, smiles, and jostles her curly black hair.
Cadriel unsheaths Blood Edict, and its blade glows teal.
Nethilist’s neck bristles, body shakes, and sweats.
The fallen angel places the blade on top of a nightstand, removes his scandals, belt, and robe, and joins his slave naked in his large bed. His back is turned to her.
The chain scrapes and rattles as she cuddles his backside leans her neck over his, breathes on his neck, licks his neck, wafts hot breath onto his ear lobe, and nibbles it. Her blue freckled breasts press against his backside, she leans against his nude body, and her hot wet slit presses up against her master’s ass. She sniffs him and smells bergamot and black pepper cologne.
“I’m starving for it,” Nethilist tells him in a purring voice. “Master, since I was your first, may I offer you a second first. You can put it inside my little butt hole. It’s nice and tight inside. You can ram it inside as hard as you want. Would you like to do that? I’ll let you; I think trying it would be fun.” Her spade-tipped tail caresses her master’s thigh.
“In the same hole you defecate out of?” Cadriel asks with a snort. “I knew you were a whore, but the more I seem to learn of you, the more disgusted I become.”
Her lip quivers, and her stomach knots. “A-a lot of people enjoy it,” she says, licks his earlobe, wraps his tail around her master’s cock, and jerks it. “Even some men like to do it to each other.”
Cadriel squints, writhes his nose, and says, “Gross!” His hands remove her tail from his penis.
“Please, fuck me, master. I want it so bad. Anyway you want, you can have me. I don’t care if you plunge your blade and make your own hole. So long as I feel something pump inside of me.”
The angel rolls off the bed, grabs Blood Edict, and approaches her bound body on the bed with the enchanted, glowing blade.
The chain rattles and scrapes as she squirms backward and presses her back against the ornately carved headboard.”W-wait!” she objects, races her mind, and struggles to think of something she could say to him to prove her value. She searches her memories for gossip she’s overheard regarding Prince Fazir. “T-the Prince. I’ve heard something about him.”
Cadriel swings the sword in the air. “Uh-huh,” he says.
“He treats his whores roughly. He likes to grab them by the horns, fuck their faces, and paint them with his sticky cum.” She frowns, feels a lump in her throat, and bites her lip. No sooner had the words left her parted lips than she realized how useless this trivia about His Highness was.
The angel rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks for letting me know,” he sneers. He hesitates, opens his mouth before closing it, and blinks. “Come over here.”
Nethilist crawls forward on the bed, her eyes glued to Blood Edict’s teal glow. She feels cold sweat on her brow and goosebumps. The chain rattles and scrapes against the headboard.
He pulls the blade up to her smooth face, causing her to go pale and whimper. As it’s brought to her, it glows brightly. His left-hand grabs a lock of her hair hanging over her left eye, which he slices off of her with its glowing blade. “That was bothering me,” he says.
She swallows hard and shivers.
He sets Blood Edict back down on the nightstand, grabs her right horn with his left hand, and pulls her face to his groin while his right strokes his cock making it hard. “Open your mouth, slave,” he orders.
She blinks, opens her mouth, and stares at his hard, throbbing penis.
Each hand grabs a horn and pulls, the chain rattles, and he doesn’t stop until her large tits bounce over the side of the bed. He holds her head in place, rubs his pulsing cock against her smooth face, slides his ballsack across her plump limps, thrusts his hips, and poles the side of her face. “Open your filthy mouth, slave,” he orders.
She grunts, nods, wets her lips, and obeys her master.
Holding her horns, he pushes his cock deep into her mouth and thrusts, using her head as a crude hand-held sex toy. He rams his penis down her throat, grunting.
Her fat tits bounce and jiggle, her throat gags, and she drips sweat, spittle, and mucous onto the sandstone floor. The room fills with the sound of gagging, slurping, and shallow breaths.
“Maybe you demons aren’t entirely useless,” Cadriel says as he pounds his cock in and out of her gargling mouth. “These horns aren’t just for show.”
Nethilist slurps on cock, gags, and drools. Her tail wags, and the swollen tip slides between her claws, which milk it of its sticky secretions. In between the gags and slurps, vibrating moans emanate from her. Her eyes close, her body shivers, and she feels a pleasurable electrical current pass across her whole body, from her hooves to the tip of her horns.
“You like being used, don’t you?” Cadriel asks, face-fucks his slave, and slaps his balls against her chin.
Her breasts jiggle with every thrust. “Mmm, uh-huh,” she mumbles through slurping, sucking noises.
“God, you’re so nasty,” the angel says. “Oh gawd. He pulls his cock from her wet, warm orifice, jerks it with his right hand, grunts loudly, closes his eyes, parts his lips, moans, and paints her blue face with jets of his white sticky cum. By the time he’s finished, her face is coated, her hair clumped, and it’s all she can smell.
Cadriel struggles to catch his breath, climbs off the bed, and picks up Blood Edict.
Nethilist blinks at him and swallows.
He stows the blade in its scabbard, returns to the bed, and pulls down the comforter and top sheet. “Get inside,” he orders.
Her face is still covered in filth; she does as he demands and rattles and scrapes the chain.
He tucks her in, enters the bathroom, wets a towel, reenters the room, and extinguishes the candles, leaving the room dark. He joins her in the bed, wipes her face until it is smooth and clean, and lies with her naked under the covers.
“I want you to teach me everything about it,” he says. “Everything.”
“About what?”
“Sex.”
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE