Sariel awoke to darkness, her consciousness returning in painful fragments. The cold stone beneath her wings sent a shiver through her body as she unfolded them, slowly, pushing herself up and looking around… and her eyes widened with shock as she registered the flickering orange fire that traced a perfect circle around her splayed form. A summoning circle. She was inside of a pentagram, edged in flame. Her mind recoiled at the realization, panic rising in her chest like trapped birds beating against a cage. No angel was meant to be called like some common spirit, bound to the will of mortal flesh. It was wrong!
It was… blasphemous!
Her wings twitched involuntarily, feathers rustling against the stone as she pushed herself upright. The chamber swam into focus — shadow-drenched walls lined with ancient books and peculiar artifacts that glinted dully in the firelight. Candles of black wax dotted the perimeter, their flames almost unnaturally still in the stagnant air. The scent of heavy incense clogged her nostrils, mingling with the mustiness of old parchment and something darker, something sulfurous that made her divinity recoil.
"Where am I?" she whispered, though she knew no answer would come. Her usually confident voice sounded thin in the oppressive atmosphere. Sariel extended her hand toward the boundary of the circle, only to snatch it back as pain lanced through her fingertips. The flames didn't burn her skin but rather her essence, her divine nature repelled by the profane symbols etched into the floor.
She tried to summon her power, to call upon the light that had always flowed through her veins like liquid sunlight. Nothing came. The circle dampened her connection to the divine, leaving her as vulnerable as a fledgling angel newly formed from celestial clay. For the first time in her eternal existence, Sariel felt truly powerless.
"My, my... how the mighty have fallen."
The voice slithered through the darkness like a serpent, familiar in a way that made Sariel's stomach twist with dread and something else — something she refused to name. She raised her eyes to the chamber's entrance, where a figure lingered in the threshold. That voice…
“Show yourself!” Sariel said, doing her best to sound like that voice hadn’t just stabbed a knife into her heart. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
A woman stepped into the light, and Sariel's breath caught in her throat. She was naked. The succubus’s naked form was a masterpiece of corruption, a mockery of her former glory of Heavenly light that the former angel had once embodied. Midnight-black hair cascaded over pale shoulders that still retained a ghostly luminescence, a cruel reminder of the light she once embodied. Bright red eyes gleamed as they reflected the firelight, framed by the curved ram's horns that spiraled from her forehead, and a single jagged crack in one of them marked where her halo had once sat. It was the wings that drew Sariel's gaze most of all — once white and radiant like her own, now transformed into leathery appendages adorned with elegant thorns that seemed to drink in what little light touched them.
And Sariel knew her. She had changed so much… yet how could she ever fail to recognize her once-friend?
"Raziel," Sariel whispered, the name a prayer and a plea.
"That name is no longer mine," the woman spat, stepping up to the edge of the flame before she began to circle the pentagram with predatory grace. "You of all beings should know that, Sariel. You were there when they took it from me. When they cast me down." Her fingers traced unseen patterns in the air, and the flames of the circle danced higher in response. "When you betrayed me."
Sariel's wings unfurled defensively, her pristine white feathers catching the firelight. "I did no such thing. Your sins were your own, friend. I only sought counsel on what was right."
"Right?" the succubus laughed, the sound brittle and sharp as broken glass. "You mean what was safe. What preserved your precious standing with the Choir, when you were too afraid of what you felt, so you went to them. You watched them name me Lileka. You watched them take my halo from me and cast me down, and you let it happen!" She stood just outside the circle, her face inches from the magical barrier. "You were a coward then, Sariel, and you're a coward now!"
Sariel lunged forward, only to be repelled by the circle's boundary. Pain radiated through her body, and she stumbled backward, her wings splaying awkwardly beneath her. "You know nothing of courage," she spat, her composure fracturing. "You speak of betrayal? You tried to corrupt me with your... your abominable feelings."
"Is love such a abominable feeling?" Lileka corrected, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I loved you. And though you were too scared to admit it, you loved me too." She stood again, resuming her circle around the trapped angel, each step precise and measured.
"I love all my sisters,” Sariel said firmly, taking a deep breath. “What am I doing here?" the angel demanded, changing the subject. She pushed herself back to her feet, adjusting her robes with as much dignity as she could muster. "Did you summon me to this place?"
Lileka's lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "In a way. I couldn’t do such a thing directly of course, but since we both know you can’t defy a mortal’s free will… I had to use one. This circle, this summoning, was the work of a particularly ambitious mortal sorcerer." She gestured to the doorway. "He's... indisposed at the moment. It's amazing how fragile human necks can be."
Shock dawned on Sariel's face. "You've killed him?"
"I wasn’t about to let him do the sort of things to you he wanted, so that meant he had outlived his usefulness the moment he completed the summoning ritual." Lileka shrugged, her bare shoulders catching the light. "Don't worry your pretty little halo about it. He was hardly innocent — trafficking with demons, seeking power beyond his station, imprisoning an angel…" Her red eyes fixed on Sariel's, and she threw back her head and laughed. "And now you find yourself trapped like a common imp."
Then the succubus did the last thing Sariel expected… she stepped over the circle's boundary without hesitation, the flames parting around her demonic form as if welcoming her.
"How—" Sariel began, backing away. That was… insane! Angels and demons… they couldn’t escape from a summoning circle after they were inside one. Lileka had just trapped herself, just as unable to leave this circle as Sariel was now. And with the mortal summoner dead… “You fool! How are we supposed to get out?”
"What makes you think I want to be anywhere else, my dear?" Lileka purred, advancing on the suddenly frightened angel. She reached out, trailing a sharp nail along Sariel's jawline. "Our would-be sorcerer never had a chance of getting all the power he longed for... but if I’d let him live, he would have gotten quite the show."
Sariel jerked her head away from the touch. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Lileka murmured, stepping closer. The heat of her body radiated against Sariel's, a stark contrast to the chill of the chamber. "Don't remind you of what you did to me? Don't touch what you claim is sacred?" Her hands hovered just above Sariel's wings, not quite making contact. "Or don't make you feel what you've been denying for eons?"
"You corrupted yourself," Sariel hissed, her wings trembling with the effort not to flinch away. "Your thoughts, your feelings — they were an abomination against divine order. You need to accept that."
"An abomination?" Lileka's face contorted with rage. "Is that what they told you? That loving you was somehow worse than the countless atrocities your precious Choir has permitted in their name over the millennia?" Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Or did you come up with that particular justification all on your own?"
"The Law is clear," Sariel insisted, though her voice wavered. "You fell because you broke it. Not because we couldn’t accept you.”
Lileka's laugh was hollow. "Is that the bedtime story you tell yourself to sleep through the eternities? That I deserved what happened to me?" She gestured to her horns, her leathery wings. "This was done to me, Sariel. This was your doing."
"No," Sariel shook her head, golden hair swaying. "You confessed impure thoughts. You sought to drag me down with you. I merely sought advice from the wisest angels of the Choir, as was my duty. As you should have done!"
"Your duty," Lileka spat the word like poison. "Always hiding behind duty and divine will." She moved closer still, until her lips nearly brushed Sariel's ear. "Do you ever make a choice for yourself? Or are you just a pretty puppet, dancing on other people’s strings?"
Sariel pushed against Lileka's shoulders, trying to create distance between them. "What you speak is blasphemy!” she hissed. “We were… I am… a servant of divine order. I find purpose in my service, as you should have."
"Liar," Lileka snarled, grabbing Sariel's wrists in a grip too strong to break. "I saw the way you looked at me before I fell. I felt the way your wings when I touched you." Her eyes gleamed with vindictive pleasure. "I know what you are, Sariel. What you've always been."
"You know nothing," Sariel insisted, her voice rising with outraged conviction.
"I know everything about you," Lileka countered, releasing one wrist to trace a finger down the center of Sariel's chest, between her breasts, stopping just above her belly. "I know that underneath all this righteousness beats the heart of a whore who's too scared to admit what she wants."
Sariel's face flushed with anger and something darker, something that made her stomach clench and her wings twitch. "How dare you—"
"How dare I speak the truth?" Lileka interrupted. "That's rich coming from someone who wouldn’t know the truth if it hit her in the face.” Her finger continued its downward path, hooking into the golden cord at Sariel's waist. "But don't worry, my pretty little hypocrite. I’m not going to let you lie to yourself anymore."
"What… what do you mean?" Sariel asked, her voice barely audible.
Lileka's smile was predatory, all sharp teeth and ancient hunger. "I mean we are stuck in this circle… and there’s no one around anymore to stop me from proving to you what you really are." She tugged at the cord, loosening it slightly. "What you really want." Her other hand slid up to caress Sariel's wing, fingers just barely brushing the sensitive feathers. "And most importantly, what a little slut you've been hiding all this time." Lileka’s eyes glittering with dark purpose. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for it. And when you finally break, when that facade of purity finally shatters..." She leaned in until their lips nearly touched. "We'll see just how divine you really are."
Sariel's palm connected with Lileka's cheek, the crack of flesh against flesh cutting through the chamber's silence. The succubus's head snapped to the side, black hair whipping across her face. For a heartbeat, neither woman moved — Sariel's hand suspended in the air, Lileka's red eyes widening in surprise. Then, like a cobra striking, Lileka lunged. Their bodies collided in a tangle of limbs and feathers, divinity and corruption wrestling for dominance on the cold stone floor.
"How dare you touch me," Sariel hissed, her fingers curling into fists as she struggled beneath Lileka's weight. Without her celestial powers, the fight was reduced to raw physicality — muscle against muscle, will against will.
Lileka laughed, the sound dark and throaty. "Oh, I dare far more than that." She grabbed for Sariel's wrists, but the angel twisted away, bringing her knee up sharply. The succubus grunted as Sariel's blow caught her in the ribs. Lileka rolled to the side, and Sariel scrambled to her feet, her white wings flaring defensively behind her. The pentagram's flames had died down to mere embers, but the binding magic still pulsed through the chamber, preventing her from calling down righteous flame or summoning help from Heaven.
Lileka slowly circled Sariel like a shark through bloody water. Her naked form gleamed in the candlelight, each movement fluid and deliberately provocative. "Your Choir isn't here to shield you now," she taunted. Lileka taunted, circling Sariel like a predator. "No protocols to hide behind. No scripture to shield you."
Sariel lunged forward, attempting to catch Lileka off-guard. Her hands found purchase on the succubus's shoulders, fingers digging into flesh that still felt disturbingly familiar. They careened backward, crashing into the flaming wall of the summoning circle. It sent a flash of agony through both of them, but neither was willing to get go of the other and unpin themselves in order to get away. Their bodies pressed together, Sariel's clothed form against Lileka's nakedness as they grappled. Sariel felt the heat of the other woman's skin through her robe, and she jerked away as if burned, but Lileka followed, her movements faster, more precise.
"What's wrong, coward?" Lileka's breath was hot against her ear. "What are you so afraid? That you might like it?"
"Blasphemy," Sariel spat, twisting to break free. But Lileka's hand shot out, tangling in her golden hair and yanking backward. Pain blossomed across Sariel's scalp, wrenching a gasp from her lips. She retaliated instinctively, her own fingers finding Lileka's black tresses and pulling hard.
The succubus hissed but didn't release her grip. Instead, she used the leverage to force Sariel's head back, exposing the column of her throat. "Still hiding behind your precious doctrines," Lileka growled. "Let's see what's beneath all that righteousness."
They toppled sideways, rolling across the stone floor in a flurry of wings and limbs. Sariel felt her robe catching, tearing as Lileka's fingers worked at the fabric with deliberate brutality. She fought harder, her wings beating frantically, stirring the chamber's heavy air into currents that sent the candle flames dancing wildly.
It was those wings that proved her undoing. Lileka's hand shot out, grasping the sensitive arch of Sariel's left wing. Her fingers dug into the feathers, finding the places that angels didn’t like to acknowledge… the places where they were the most sensitive. The place where being touched felt almost like the Creator’s grace upon her soul.
Sariel's body betrayed her with a violent shudder. Her muscles went momentarily slack, a strangled sound escaping her throat — not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something horrifyingly between.
"There it is," Lileka whispered, triumph coloring her voice. "You feel that, don’t you?" Her grip tightened, twisting slightly.
Sariel's back arched involuntarily, her body responding to sensations it had never been meant to endure outside of divine communion. "Stop," she gasped, the word more plea than command.
"Never." Lileka used the momentary advantage to flip Sariel onto her stomach, pressing her face against the cold stone. One knee drove into the small of Sariel's back while her hands maintained their cruel grip on each wing's most sensitive junction.
Sariel bucked and thrashed, but each movement only intensified the sensations coursing through her wings. The Choir had suggested once that the wings were so sensitive because they were a gift from the Creator. That they were divine receptors, metaphysical nerve endings designed to perceive the subtlest celestial energies. There was nothing subtle or modest about Lileka’s knowing touch, and it made her nerves fire in chaotic, overwhelming patterns. It was as if every fiber of her being was being strummed like a harp string, vibrating with discordant notes of forbidden feeling.
"Did you ever know it could feel this good?" Lileka's voice was conversational, almost scholarly, as she stroked her fingers along feathers so sensitive that even a brush filled her entire body. "Or did the Choir keep that knowledge from their perfect little servant?"
Sariel refused to answer, gritting her teeth against the waves of sensation. But her silence was answer enough. "Such a shame," Lileka continued, her free hand moving to Sariel's robe. "To keep you ignorant of your own body." With a savage yank, she tore the garment down the center, the sound of ripping fabric echoing in the chamber.
Cool air kissed Sariel's exposed back and chest, raising gooseflesh across her skin. She struggled harder, but Lileka was relentless, tearing away more of the robe until Sariel's shoulders and the upper curves of her breasts were bared to the shadowy chamber.
"Stop this," Sariel demanded, her voice cracking with strain. "This defilement—"
"Defilement?" Lileka laughed, the sound like broken crystal. "Is that what you think this is? What the Choir taught you to call it?" Her other hand slid from Sariel's wing to join the other, grasping the remaining fabric at her waist. "Your body isn't a temple, Sariel. It's a prison. And I'm setting you free of the Choir’s imprisonment."
With a final, brutal wrench, the golden cord snapped, and the last of Sariel's robe was torn away.
Sariel's body was the stuff of myth and legend, the kind of beauty that poets dare to dream of but rarely capture. Her skin was an alabaster canvas, flawless and smooth, unmarred by mortal imperfections. It glistened in the flickering candlelight, each curve and hollow casting delicate shadows that danced like ethereal wraiths across her form. Her breasts were full and inviting, their pale weight hanging down from her body as her soft skin pebbled in the cool air. Her nipples stood out in stark relief, hardened points that defied her willpower and betrayed the deep undercurrents of arousal she struggled to suppress. Her waist was impossibly slender, flaring to wide hips that seemed crafted by the hands of the most indulgent sculptor, a testament to divine voluptuousness. Her legs stretched long and elegantly beneath her, desperation making them spasm with her futile attempt to push Lileka off of her.
She lay pinned beneath the succubus who had once been her friend, naked save for her halo's glow as her white wings trembling with exhaustion and unwanted stimulation. Shame burned through her, hotter than divine fire, as Lileka's gaze traveled over her exposed form. Sariel tried to curl inward, to shield herself from those hungry red eyes, but Lileka's weight held her immobile.
"Beautiful," the succubus murmured, and there was something in her voice beyond lust — a note of genuine appreciation that seemed incongruous with her taunting anger and cruel rage to Sariel. "Even now, you shine."
Sariel closed her eyes, turning her face away. "What do you want," she whispered, resignation heavy in her voice.
"I want vengeance," Lileka interrupted, leaning down until her lips brushed the shell of Sariel's ear. "I want you to feel the way I felt, when you betrayed me. I want you to suffer the way I suffered!" In a fluid movement, Lileka flipped Sariel onto her back, straddling her waist. The angel's wings splayed awkwardly beneath her, feathers bent and disarrayed from the struggle. Before Sariel could renew her resistance, Lileka's hand shot out, producing a length of dark silk from nowhere that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
"What—" Sariel began, but her words cut off as Lileka swiftly wound the silk around her wrists, binding them together.
"A gift from my time in the abyss," Lileka explained, her fingers working with practiced efficiency. "Shadow-silk. Quite effective at binding the mighty." She tied a complex knot, then pulled another length of the strange material from seemingly nowhere. "The more you struggle, the tighter it becomes."
Sariel tested the bonds, gasping as the silk constricted around her wrists in response. "This is unholy," she protested, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Everything about me is unholy now," Lileka reminded her, beginning to wind the second length of silk around Sariel's ankles. "You saw to that, remember?"
The binding continued methodically, Lileka working with the precision of an artist. Dark silk crisscrossed Sariel's alabaster skin in intricate patterns — across her chest, framing her breasts; around her thighs, forcing them apart; along her stomach, highlighting the curves that her robes had always concealed. Sariel's breathing grew shallow as each new bond tightened, not painfully but with unyielding pressure. The silk felt alive somehow, pulsing against her skin in counterpoint to her heartbeat.
It was when Lileka turned her attention to Sariel's wings that true panic set in. "No," Sariel gasped, trying to fold them away. "Not my wings. Please."
Lileka paused, her hands hovering over the white feathers. For a moment, something like regret flickered across her features. “When the choir came for me, I look to you, Sariel. I asked you to tell them you felt the same way. That it couldn’t be wrong. That the Choir must be misunderstanding the Creator’s will. And you turned away from the ‘abomination’ they castigated.” Her expression hardened, rage glittering in her eyes. "You didn't show mercy when I begged," she said softly. "So why should I?"
The shadow-silk slid between Sariel’s feathers, weaving around the delicate bones and sensitive flesh. Each touch sent sparks of unwanted sensation through the angel’s body, making her tremble and bite her lip to suppress shameful sounds. Lileka worked meticulously, weaving the silk practically between every single tail feather as she wrapped each wing separately before securing them together, rendering them completely immobile. When she finished, Sariel lay frog-tied on the stone floor, transformed into a dark artwork of bound divinity. The shadow-silk contrasted starkly with her pale skin and white feathers, a visual representation of the corruption Lileka sought to impose.
"There," the succubus murmured, sitting back to admire her handiwork. "Now you can't hide behind those pretty wings." Her finger traced a line from Sariel's throat, between her breasts, down to her navel. "Now you can't pretend."
Sariel turned her face away, shame burning in her cheeks. She was conscious of her nakedness in a way no angel should be — the exposure of her large breasts, the vulnerability of the forbidden feminine slit between her legs, the trembling of her bound limbs. The binding was complete, not just physically but symbolically — a perversion of the divine order she had served for eternity.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, though she feared she already knew the answer.
Lileka leaned down, her naked body hovering just above Sariel's, close enough that the angel could feel the heat radiating from her corrupted form. "Because you need to understand what you did to me," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "Because you need to feel what it's like when everything you believe about yourself is stripped away."
Her hand moved to Sariel's wing again, fingers delving between the bound feathers to find the most sensitive spots. Her touch wasn't violent but it was so deliberately sensual it felt incredibly invasive, stroking and caressing in ways that made Sariel's breath catch. "But mostly," Lileka continued, her lips curving into a smile that was both cruel and sad, "because deep down, you've always wanted this. You've just been too afraid to admit it."
Sariel wanted to deny it, to proclaim her purity and devotion, but the protest she had planned died and became a gasp as the succubus’s Lileka's other hand cupped her breast, thumb circling the nipple. Her body responded traitorously, a flush spreading across her skin that had nothing to do with anger. "Your body knows the truth," Lileka murmured, watching the reactions she coaxed from Sariel's flesh. "Even if you don't." Her fingers twisted slightly in the bound wing, and Sariel couldn't suppress a moan. "But you will. Before this night is through, you will."
Sariel gritted her teeth as Lileka's hands slid down her bound body, each touch leaving trails of unwanted heat across her skin. The succubus's eyes gleamed with dark purpose as she positioned herself between Sariel's forcibly spread thighs, her breath hot against the angel's most private flesh. Shame coiled in Sariel's stomach, mingling with something else — something forbidden that she refused to name, even as it sent tendrils of warmth through her lower abdomen. "Don't," Sariel managed, the word half-command, half-plea. Her wrists twisted against the shadow-silk bonds, but they only tightened in response, the material seeming to feed on her resistance.
Lileka looked up, her red eyes meeting Sariel's, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Don't what?" she asked, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the sensitive skin of Sariel's inner thighs. "Don't… touch you, the way I’ve always wanted to?" Her touch drifted higher, hovering just shy of Sariel's center. "The way you stopped me from doing before? The way I want to for the next eternity?"
"This is sacrilege," Sariel whispered, though the word felt hollow, a shield already cracking under the weight of her body's treacherous responses.
"Then let me be sacrilegious," Lileka replied, her voice dropping to a husky murmur. Without breaking eye contact, she lowered her head and ran her tongue along the length of Sariel's pussy in one slow, deliberate stroke.
The sensation jolted through Sariel like divine lightning. Her back arched involuntarily, a strangled gasp escaping her lips before she could suppress it. Lileka's tongue was hot and wet, its pressure perfectly calibrated to send waves of unwanted pleasure cascading through her body. As she shook and jerked, the silk tightened everyone… on her breasts, on her limbs, on her wings, and it magnified every sensation… as if her entire being was connected to the flesh her tongue had just caressed.
Lileka sighed and her lips curving into a smile against Sariel's flesh. "You taste as sweet as I’d imagined," she murmured, before delving deeper, her tongue exploring like it was the first Snake.
Sariel turned her face away, eyes squeezed shut as if she could deny what was happening. But while she could avoid seeing, she couldn't escape feeling. Lileka's tongue circled her entrance, then moved upward to find the swollen bud at the apex of her slit. Each lick, each subtle change in pressure sent new waves of sensation coursing through her, building a pressure in her lower belly that she had never experienced before.
"Stop it!" she gasped… but the words lacked conviction. Her thighs trembled, muscles tightening against their bindings.
Lileka ignored her, her tongue working with merciless expertise. She knew exactly where to touch, how to vary her rhythm, when to press harder and when to tease with feather-light strokes. It was as if she could read Sariel's body better than Sariel herself — knowing exactly which motions would draw the most response, which patterns would build the tension coiling inside her.
Unwanted heat spread through Sariel's abdomen, radiating outward through her limbs. Her nipples hardened, sensitive peaks drawing tight despite the chamber's ambient warmth. A flush crept across her chest, up her neck, staining her cheeks with the visible evidence of her shame. This was not how an angel should feel — this desperate, clawing need building inside her was the antithesis of divine serenity. Yet, as much as she wanted to, Sariel couldn't deny its presence, couldn't pretend it wasn't consuming her from within.
"Little… Liar…" Lileka murmured against her, the vibration of the words adding a new dimension to the sensations. "I knew it. I always knew it. You wanted this." Her hands slid beneath Sariel's hips, lifting her slightly to gain better access. "You wanted this, and you let them cast me out anyway.”
"I don’t!" Sariel protested, but her hips betrayed her, tilting upward toward Lileka's mouth. The movement was slight, involuntary, but it was enough to make the succubus chuckle darkly.
"You don’t?" she echoed, pulling back just enough that Sariel felt the loss of contact like a physical pain. "Your lips say no, but your body..." She blew gently across Sariel's wet flesh, making the angel shiver. "Your body is much more honest, you holy little whore."
Rage flared through Sariel, momentarily drowning out the unwelcome pleasure. "I would never want this, Raziel!" she spat, glaring down at Lileka. "You're nothing but a corrupted shadow of what you once were — a twisted mockery of divine grace. A defilement of all that is good and natural!"
She could see the effect her words had. They landed like physical blows on the succubus, and for just a second she flinched… and something dangerous flashed in Lileka's eyes. Hurt was quickly masked by cruel resolve. "Is that so?" she said softly, her voice a silken threat. "Then let me show you just how corrupted I've become."
She moved with startling speed, her hand shooting up to grasp one of Sariel's bound wings. Fingers tangled in the pristine feathers, seeking not the sensitive junctions but a single, perfect primary feather near the outer edge. Sariel realized her intent a moment too late. "Don't—" she began, but Lileka had already closed her fingers around the shaft of the feather and pulled.
Pain lanced through Sariel's wing, sharp and immediate. She cried out, her body jerking against its restraints. But the pain was followed by something unexpected — a wave of intense sensation that wasn't quite pleasure, wasn't quite agony, but occupied some forbidden territory between. The divine receptors in her wings fired chaotically, sending confusing signals through her nervous system. Her vision blurred, and for a moment, she thought she might lose consciousness.
Lileka held up the pristine white feather, twirling it between her fingers. "Did you know," she said conversationally, as if they were discussing celestial architecture rather than engaged in sacrilege, "that most of the Fallen collect these when they can find them?” She traced the feather along Sariel's trembling thigh. "I think it’s because it reminds them of what they used to be. Allows them to touch their lost grace one more time."
Sariel's breath came in short, shallow gasps as her body processed the conflicting sensations. The pain was already fading, but it had left something in its wake — a heightened sensitivity that made even the nearly-still air against her feathers feel like a caress. "You're a monster," she whispered, but the words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.
"Perhaps," Lileka agreed, lowering her head once more. "But if I am, I'm the monster you created."
Her tongue returned to its work with renewed vigor, delving deeper, flickering faster. The intensity increased, and Sariel found herself unable to maintain her resistance. Her body responded of its own accord, hips rising to meet Lileka's mouth, internal muscles clenching around nothing as pleasure built to almost unbearable levels.
A sound escaped her — half-moan, half-sob — as Lileka's tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot. The succubus focused there, circling and flicking with precise, deliberate pressure. Heat pooled in Sariel's core, a molten pressure seeking release. She felt herself approaching some unknown threshold, some point of no return that both terrified and enticed her.
"Please," she gasped, not sure if she was begging for cessation or completion.
Lileka looked up, her mouth glistening with evidence of Sariel's arousal. "Please what?" she asked, deliberately misunderstanding. "Please stop?" Her finger replaced her tongue, circling Sariel's entrance teasingly. "Is that what you want?"
Sariel couldn't answer. The truth was too shameful, too contrary to everything she had ever believed about herself. Instead, she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, tasting copper and divinity on her tongue until she could control her self. “…Yes…”
"I don’t believe you," Lileka observed, her finger dipping just slightly inside Sariel, then withdrawing. "But I think I need to hear you say it." Her other hand returned to Sariel's wing, fingers closing around another feather. "What do you want, Sariel?"
"I want..." Sariel began, then faltered, unable to form the words.
Lileka pulled, tearing the second feather free in one swift motion. Again, that strange mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through Sariel, stronger this time, making her cry out and arch against her bonds. "What do you want?" Lileka repeated, more insistently.
"I want it to stop," Sariel gasped, though her body contradicted her words, trembling with need.
"Liar," Lileka accused softly. She lowered her head once more, but instead of returning to her previous ministrations, she nipped at the sensitive flesh of Sariel's inner thigh, leaving a mark that bloomed red against the pale skin. "Your body knows the truth. Why can't you admit it?"
Before Sariel could formulate a response, Lileka's mouth was on her again, tongue delving into her entrance, tasting her most intimate essence. The invasion was more direct this time, more claiming, and the angel’s protests died in her throat as pleasure overwhelmed her capacity for thought. Lileka's tongue moved in and out of her in a rhythm that mimicked the thrusting of procreation, her hands holding Sariel's restrained hips firmly in place. Each thrust sent new waves of sensation cascading through the angel's body, building upon each other until she felt she might shatter from the pressure. Her wings strained against their binding, the sensitive feathers brushing against the shadow-silk in a way that added yet another layer to her torment. Every nerve ending seemed to be firing at once, her divine senses overwhelmed by sensations they were never meant to process.
"Look at you," Lileka murmured, briefly raising her head. "The perfect angel, writhing like a common whore." Her finger replaced her tongue again, sliding deeper this time, curling to find a spot inside that made Sariel gasp. "What would your precious Choir think if they could see you now? Do you think they would still be so sure of your holiness? Or would they take your halo away too, just to be on the safe side?"
The words terrified her. If that was true, then… then she would lose everything. She was a creature of duty, of station, of righteous adherence to the codes of the Heavenly Choir. Her soul had to weep at thought of transgression. Her horror didn’t seem to matter to Lileka, however… the succubus worked Sariel's body with the precision of a cherub playing a finely turned harp, building her toward a crescendo that the angel both feared and craved.
Then, abruptly, she stopped.
Both fingers and tongue withdrew completely from the angel’s body, and despite herself Sariel couldn't suppress a whimper of loss, her hips rising unconsciously to seek the contact that had been taken away. She suppressed that damnable through immediately… but it had been there.
“I think,” Lileka said, a cruel smile playing across her lips, "that we need to make some adjustments."
She moved upward, her hands reaching for Sariel's halo. The golden circle of light hovered just above the angel's head, pulsing gently with divine energy. Sariel's eyes widened in alarm.
"No," she protested, genuine fear in her voice. "Not my halo. It's sacred—"
"Nothing about you is sacred anymore," Lileka interrupted, her fingers closing around the glowing circle. "Not after what we've done. What we're going to do." To Sariel's horror, the halo didn't repel the demonic touch as it should have. Instead, it dimmed slightly as the succubus grabbed onto it, but it didn’t move… instead, as Lileka pulled, her head moved with it. , as if responding to some command only Lileka could issue. “Don’t be such a coward again, my dear… I don’t have the power to take your halo from you. I’m not your beloved Choir.”
With practiced ease, Lileka pulled on the halo, drawing the angle’s hair further down. As she did, the shadow-silk ropes seemed to come alive, reaching up to entangle the golden circle, incorporating it into the binding. Sariel felt the connection like a physical shock — the divine energy of her halo now flowing through the corrupt material of her bonds.
"What are you doing?" she gasped as the bondage arched her back, forcing her head backward and locking it in position where she couldn’t pull away, couldn’t really move at all.
"Giving you what you need," Lileka replied, adjusting the bindings so that the halo was held firmly in place. "Let’s call this a little case of divine intervention."
Then Lileka as back between her legs, delving deeper, and the wet heat of it sending violent tremors through Sariel's bound form. The halo embedded in the ropes hummed against the silk, sending energy vibrating through them to blow against her sensitive wings, and the resulting sensation seemed to pervert its divine energy into waves of forbidden sapphic pleasure that crashed against her will like a tide against crumbling stone. Her resistance was fracturing, hairline cracks spreading through her resolve with each expert stroke of Lileka's sacrilegiously skilled tongue. The shame of it burned through her veins like liquid fire, yet she couldn't deny the mounting pressure building low in her abdomen — a need so primal, so urgent that it threatened to consume her entirely.
"Please," Sariel gasped, the word escaping before she could trap it behind her lips. Her golden hair was plastered to her forehead, dampened by sweat that had no place on an angelic brow. "I cannot bear this torment any longer."
Lileka looked up, her mouth glistening with the evidence of Sariel's unwilling arousal. The succubus's red eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "Torment? Is that what you call it? Are you being tortured? Does your pussy bleed?" She dragged a finger through Sariel's wetness, then held it up, displaying the proof of the angel's desire. "Your body seems to have a different opinion."
Sariel turned her face away, but there was nowhere to hide from the truth — her flesh had betrayed her utterly, responding to Lileka's touch with an enthusiasm that defied all her centuries of divine discipline. What did that way about her spirit, about her soul? Could the Creator ever forgive her? Even as she longed for that, however… longed for Him to speak to an angel for the first time since the dawn of creation… she couldn’t stop wanting what her body wanted. Her hips strained upward, seeking the contact that Lileka had withdrawn, driven by an animal need that had no place in a celestial being like her.
"I… I require..." she began, then faltered, unable to articulate the shameful thing she craved.
“What? You require what?" Lileka prompted, her finger returning to trace maddeningly light circles around the entrance to Sariel's slit. "Say it clearly. Tell me exactly what you need, little songbird."
Sariel swallowed, her throat working painfully. "I require... release," she whispered, the formal language a last, desperate attempt to maintain some shred of holy propriety and her dignity.
Lileka's laugh was sharp and dismissive. "Release?" She withdrew her touch completely, her head held up on her elbows as she look at Sariel from between her spread thighs. "Is that the only words you know for feeling good in your celestial choirs? Such cold, clinical language for something so primal and wonderful."
She leaned forward again, but instead of returning to her previous ministrations, she blew gently across Sariel's sensitive flesh, the cool air a torment against overheated skin. Sariel whimpered, her hips jerking involuntarily. "No," Lileka continued, reaching up to twist a nipple between her fingers. Sariel gasped. "No, that won’t do. If you want something from me, you'll have to beg… and you’ll need to be a lot more honest in your language."
Confusion clouded Sariel's pleasure-hazed mind. "I don't understand," she admitted, hating the weakness in her voice.
Lileka's smile was cruel and knowing. "Of course you don't. You've spent eternity hiding behind pretty words and formal phrases. Hiding behind other people’s ideas of who you are supposed to be, and what you are supposed to want." Her hand slid down, fingers dipping just slightly into Sariel's wetness before withdrawing again. "But here, now, there's no room for cute little euphemisms. If you want what your body is begging for, you'll have to use the honest words that admit what it is that you actually want… who you really are."
Understanding dawned, bringing with it a fresh wave of shame. "I cannot," Sariel protested, though her voice lacked conviction. "Such language is improper."
"Improper?" Lileka laughed, gesturing to Sariel's bound, naked form. "Look at yourself. Spread open, wet and wanting with a demon’s tongue against your cunt. What propriety are you still clinging to you little whore?" She lowered her head again, her tongue flicking out to deliver one precise lick that made Sariel gasp. "Say it. Tell me you want a woman to make you cum."
The cruel, crude words landed like a physical blow, making Sariel flinch. She couldn’t do it. She had held to duty, to her role, for so long… "I cannot," she repeated, though with less certainty.
"Then you never get what you need," Lileka replied simply, licking again… and then sitting back once more. "Your choice. It’s always been your choice, Sariel."
The loss of contact was almost unbearable. The angel’s body screamed for completion, for the pleasure that hovered just beyond reach. The halo embedded in her bindings continued to vibrate the ropes against her wings, maintaining her arousal without providing enough stimulation to push her over the edge. It was exquisite torture, a carnal purgatory that stretched her nerves to breaking point.
"Please," she tried again, struggling to find a compromise. "I wish for you to continue your... attentions. To bring me to culmination."
Lileka snorted, unimpressed. "Still hiding. Still pretending." She rose to her knees, bringing her face level with Sariel's. "Look at me."
Reluctantly, Sariel did so. She had to pull her head up to do so, yanking on the silk holding her halo and making it stretch and grow tighter everywhere else, but she did it. She looked into Lileka’s eyes… Raziel’s eyes… and saw everything. Rage. Vengeance. Hurt. Lust. Pain. Outrage. Hunger. Fury. And somewhere beneath all of that, something deeper.
The succubus’s crimson eyes stared back at her, as unyielding as a sword at her throat. "You want me to lick your cunt until you cum," Lileka stated, each word deliberate and crude. "Say it."
Sariel closed her eyes, unable to maintain contact under the weight of such blatant vulgarity. The words Lileka wanted her to say were anathema to everything she had ever been taught, everything she believed about herself. It wasn’t just the crude language… it was that it was direct. That she couldn’t hide in those worlds. To speak them would be to acknowledge the base, carnal creature that lurked beneath her angelic exterior.
That she did want this.
Eons of calcified fear and disgust and shame didn’t give way lightly… but trapped here with no help coming, the pressure too intense. Her body didn't care about divine protocol or celestial rules. It didn’t care about the way the Choir had interpreted the Creator’s laws for his children. It just wanted, with a desperation that transcended all her carefully constructed barriers.
"I..." she began, then faltered, the sacred and profane warring within her.
Lileka's patience was wearing thin. She reached up and yanked another feather from Sariel’s wing. The angel screamed, but in her current state it didn’t even hurt… it actually almost felt good. "Say it!” she snarled. “Don’t you dare lie to be again you little bitch. I won’t let you. What do you want?!”
"I’m sorry!" The words burst from Sariel's lips, raw with desperation. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop them! I’m sorry I went to them! I didn’t know what they would do! I just didn’t know what-”
The succubus pulled another feather. “Say it, slut!” Lileka hissed.
"I want..." the angel swallowed hard, forcing herself past the mental block. "I want you to lick my... my..."
"Your what?" Lileka growled, merciless.
"My... cunt," Sariel whispered, the word foreign and forbidden on her tongue.
"Louder," Lileka demanded.
"I want you to lick my cunt," Sariel repeated, her voice stronger, though shame colored each syllable. “I want a woman to lick my cunt!”
A smile of triumph spread across Lileka's face. "And what do you want that to make you do?"
This was easier that the first admission, somehow. "To make me... cum," Sariel finally said, the crude word sending a perverse thrill through her that she hadn't expected. “I want a woman to eat my cunt and make me cum!”
"Good girl," Lileka purred, the praise somehow both degrading and gratifying. "See? Being honest isn't so difficult."
She lowered her head once more, but this time her attentions were more intense, more focused. Her tongue circled Sariel's clit with deliberate pressure, drawing patterns that seemed designed to drive the angel mad with need. Sariel moaned, no longer trying to suppress her reactions. The dam had broken; with those crude words had come a kind of surrender, a relinquishing of the pretense that she didn't want this.
"More," she gasped, her hips rising to meet Lileka's mouth. "Please, more."
Lileka paused, looking up with eyebrows raised. "More what? Be specific."
The lesson had been learned. "Lick my cunt… harder," Sariel said, the words coming easier now, though each one felt like a small betrayal of her angelic nature. "Make me cum on your tongue."
Satisfied, Lileka resumed, her techniques becoming more varied, more exploratory. She alternated between sucking gently on Sariel's clit and flattening her tongue against it, creating different sensations that built upon each other. Her hands weren't idle either — one moved to cup Sariel's breast, thumbing the nipple into a hard peak, while the other slid beneath her to grasp a handful of bound feathers.
The combination was overwhelming. Pleasure spiraled through Sariel in waves, each one building higher than the last. Her vision blurred, focus narrowing to the points where Lileka's body made contact with hers. She was panting now, short, desperate breaths that barely provided enough oxygen to her light-headed brain.
"That's it," Lileka murmured against her flesh. "Let go. Show me the whore hiding beneath those pretty feathers and sacred hymn and hollow promises."
The crude word should have offended her, should have rekindled her resistance. Instead, it sent a jolt of perverse excitement through her. "Yes," she heard herself say, the word barely recognizable as her own. "I'm your whore. Just… just don't stop."
Lileka growled her approval, the sound vibrating against Sariel's sensitive flesh. Her attentions grew more demanding, more controlling. She slid a finger inside Sariel, curling it to find the spot that made the angel cry out in surprised pleasure. A second finger joined the first, stretching her, filling her in ways she had never experienced. "You like that, don't you?" Lileka asked, though the question hardly needed answering. "You like being filled, being fucked by my fingers while I suck your clit."
"Yes," Sariel admitted, shame and arousal so thoroughly mixed that she could no longer distinguish between them. "Yes, I like it. I need it."
Lileka's movements became rhythmic, her fingers thrusting in and out while her tongue maintained its relentless assault on Sariel's clit. The pressure built higher, a desperate tension that demanded release. Sariel felt herself approaching some threshold, some point of no return that both terrified and enticed her.
"I'm going to cum," she gasped, the crude word now flowing naturally from her lips. "Please, let me cum."
But Lileka, cruel in her dominance, slowed her movements, drawing back just enough to deny Sariel the final push she needed. "Not yet," she said, her voice husky with her own arousal. "I'm not done with you."
Before Sariel could protest, however, the succubus shifted again, dragging her tongue low, flicking it over Sariel’s clit one last time. She watched the angel’s body respond, watched her hips jerk and twist. But she was in control, and each time she softened her touch, made her movements more tentative until Sariel was nearly weeping with frustration. “Please,” she gasped, the words coming without shame or hesitation. “Please, don’t stop. Don’t stop, I need it, I need to cum.”
With a smile that was equal parts wicked and amused, she moved up Sariel’s body, dragging her flesh against the angel’s as she went. She kept contact at all times, making sure Sariel felt every moment of denial. Her breath was hot against Sariel’s skin as their succubus’s corrupted body pressed against the divine one beneath her, and Sariel writhed beneath her, pulling desperately against the silk ropes ropes, trying to force her needy cunt back against Lileka in any way she could. Her desperation only seemed to amuse the succubus.
As Lileka moved upward, their breasts slid together, Lileka's pale skin a stark contrast gliding over Sariel's glowing flesh. Sweat made their tits slick and slippery against each other and Sariel gasped at the new sensation, the unexpected intimacy of it. Her brain was so entirely overloaded that she couldn’t even tell if she liked it or not… she just knew that she needed more. Lileka tangled her fingers into Sariel's golden hair, the grip firm and possessive. Then she pulled, hard, yanking against the bondage on her halo again as she brought Sariel's head up to meet her own.
Lileka's mouth claimed the angel’s, her tongue slipping past the overwhelmed blonde’s lips in a fierce, possessive kiss. It was rough, and it was demanding, and it took Sariel a full second to realize that she could taste herself on Lileka’s mouth. The taste of shame, of surrender, of her own essence coated the succubus’s tongue, and it sent a shiver through her. It was too much. It was too intense. She should have hated it. Hated the way she had to submit to such a crude, cruel way of being kissed. Hated the taste of herself. But she didn't hate any of it. She was too far gone for that.
Her need was unrelenting, blinding. So intense that she couldn’t care, couldn’t be bothered to worry about the dignity and modesty that had been stripped from her along with her clothes. She just kissed back, her own tongue finding Lileka's in a fevered dance. Their mingled gasps filled the air, and she realized with a jolt that even this was a kind of pleasure. The kind of pleasure she would have never even found to want on her own. Something outside of what her angelic mind had ever imagined, ever considered. Sariel's ability to think, to parse emotion from sensation, was slipping away. She needed one thing. One simple, crude thing. Her body was screaming for it, and all else faded into the background.
Then Lileka was sliding back down her body again and her tongue was back inside of her. This time she didn’t drag it out, didn’t make Sariel work for it. She just resumed her place between Sariel’s thighs, her breath hot against the angel's soaked flesh as she took the angel’s clit in her mouth and sucked. Sariel gasped, her body jerking against the silk ropes. She thought she might cum immediately, thought all of the torture and teasing and denial might actually push her over the edge as soon as Lileka touched her. Her head rolled back, her back arched, and her helpless, needy cunt pressed hungrily against Lileka’s mouth. The succubus wasn’t even trying to be cruel now. She was just doing exactly what Sariel needed, licking and sucking and teasing Sariel’s clit with relentless precision. “Oh… oh God, oh God, oh God,” Sariel heard herself saying, her voice breaking with the intensity of her need for release to the point she didn’t even think about the blasphemy in her words. It was coming. It was real this time. “I’m going to cum!” she screamed.
And then Lileka stopped.
Sariel thought she was going to die. Her hips bucked involuntarily, her body obeying no higher law than the need to get Lileka’s mouth back on her as she gasped and moaned and pulsed with the incredible frustration of being denied again. “No! Please!” She begged wildly, even more incoherent in her desperation than she had been before. “I was so close! I need it! I need you to eat my cunt! I’m your whore!” Lileka hadn’t moved away, her mouth hovered a scant inch from Sariel’s needy clit. Now she flicked her tongue out again, a quick, teasing gesture that left Sariel panting and straining to get more contact.
“You’re evil,” Sariel sobbed, though she was so far gone in her arousal that even the accusation sounded more like a prayer than a complaint. Lileka grinned, not even bothering to deny it. She flicked again, then again and then again even faster… and then she was eating Sariel out again with the same skill and focus as before, like she really meant it this time. Sariel believed it. She had to.
It was too much. The pressure Lileka had built up inside her was impossibly intense, the crude demands she had forced Sariel to make now echoed in the angel’s mind, their very vulgarity adding a guilty edge to her pleasure. “Make me cum!” She remembered saying, and it had seemed like the hardest thing in the world to admit. Now it was the only thing in the world she cared about, and Sariel would have shouted it a thousand times just to make Lileka keep going for another few seconds. She didn’t care. There was no room for shame or modesty, for fear or regret. There was only the blinding need to cum, and she was so close this time that it blotted out every other possible thought. She heard herself moan again, the sound distorted and rough, and then she was screaming as it broke over her in a wave. “Please please please please please please…” Her body seized and shook and-
And Lileka backed off, so close and sudden that it almost echoed the real, full release Sariel thought she was going to get. She didn’t even have the breath to scream, just one long, low moan of complete disbelief and unrelenting need as she realized she had been denied again. Her hips jerked desperately, uselessly while Lileka watched with wicked amusement. By the time Sariel’s mind caught up to her body, the succubus was licking her pussy again with the same eager, relentless pace, and she was building toward another insane crescendo. It was impossible. She shouldn’t have been able to get that close so soon after being denied, but even her own body was a stranger to her now, and Lileka knew exactly how to play it. Knew exactly where Sariel’s breaking points were, and what they were. Sariel’s cries blended together in a litany of lust and madness, and she didn’t even know what she was saying anymore, only that words were leaving her mouth and they didn’t sound like her own. Her entire world was the heat of Lileka’s mouth, the relentless pressure and the way her own body responded. Was the promise that she was going to actually cum, this time for real, and the constant, growing fear and anticipation that she wouldn’t, the unbearable hot-cold thrill of coming closer and closer until she couldn’t think at all, until she was right there on the edge-
And Lileka stopped again, abrupt and cruel and perfectly timed. Sariel screamed in pure frustration, a sound unlike anything that had ever passed her lips before. It was awful. It was the betrayal of it, the shock, the way her body kept rushing forward for an instant before realizing it had been left behind. It was the way she couldn’t seem to care that it had happened again, because it meant that Lileka was still going, and eventually it would be too much and she would have to let her cum. It was awful, and it was also wonderful, and she wasn’t even sure which she needed more… the relief of knowing that she was eventually going to actually finish, or the horrible, delightful agony of being brought right to the edge again and again and again. She was insane. Sariel would have never dared to admit to wanting this, had she even been able to comprehend it. But she wanted it now.
By now, Sariel existed in a state beyond thought, beyond reason — her divine mind that had existed since before time reduced to a singular, overwhelming need. Her body trembled violently, sweat-slicked and flushed with desperate arousal. Lileka hovered above her, red eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as she delivered just enough pleasure to drive Sariel mad with want, then withdrew at the crucial moment. It was a torment more damning than Hell, worse than castigation by the Heavenly Choir… she was trapped in a carnal purgatory of perpetual yearning.
"Please," Sariel gasped, the word stripped of all angelic dignity. "I'm begging you! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry Raziel I’m so sorry!” she was sobbing. “Please, just let me cum…"
Lileka's tongue traced lazy circles around Sariel's clit, never quite providing the direct pressure needed for release. "But you look so beautiful like this," she murmured against the angel's sensitive flesh. "This is how I wanted to see you, Sariel. Desperate. Wanting. Wanting me." She punctuated her words with a deliberate lick that made Sariel arch off the cold stone floor.
"I can't — I can't bear it anymore," Sariel sobbed, her golden hair a tangled mess, her wings straining against their silken bonds. The shadow-silk ropes seemed to pulse with her heartbeat, tightening and releasing in rhythmic waves that only heightened her torment.
Lileka smiled, a predator savoring the final moments before the kill. "Oh, but you can, if I make you. That’s not a question. What is the question is… how badly do you want it?" Her finger circled Sariel's entrance, dipping just slightly inside before withdrawing. "How much are you willing to sacrifice for release?"
The question hung in the air, loaded with meaning beyond the immediate context. Sariel was too far gone to fully comprehend its implications; her focus had narrowed to the pulsing need between her thighs, the unbearable pressure that demanded satisfaction.
Lileka lowered her head once more, this time sucking Sariel's clit between her lips with perfect pressure. Sariel cried out, her back arching, her bound wings fluttering helplessly. This was it—the final push she needed to topple over the edge. But just as the tension began to crest, Lileka pulled away again, leaving Sariel teetering on the precipice without the means to fall.
"No!" The cry tore from Sariel's throat, raw with frustration. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I want you to know what it feels like," Lileka replied, her voice unexpectedly soft. "To want something so badly that you'd sacrifice everything for it. To have heaven within your grasp, only to have it denied." Her hand trailed up Sariel's body to cup her breast, thumb circling the sensitive nipple. "It felt something like this, Sariel. It felt something like this when you choose your precious Choir over someone who loved you. When you betrayed me to them."
The words penetrated the haze of Sariel's arousal, striking a chord of understanding. This wasn't just about physical domination; it was about making her comprehend the depth of Lileka's pain. The realization brought a fresh wave of shame, different from the carnal shame of her body's responses—this was the deeper shame of recognition, of seeing the consequences of her actions reflected in Lileka's corrupted form.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, the words inadequate but sincere.
Lileka's expression flickered, something vulnerable briefly visible beneath the mask of cruelty. Then it was gone, replaced by renewed determination. "I know you are. But sorry isn't enough," she said, her hand sliding back down to rest between Sariel's thighs.
She began again, her touches more precise, more deliberately torturous. She brought Sariel to the edge over and over, each time withdrawing just as release seemed imminent. It was a masterful performance of control, a symphony of denial that reduced Sariel to incoherent pleas and desperate movements. Time lost meaning. Sariel's universe contracted to the points where Lileka's body made contact with hers, to the relentless build and denial of pleasure. Her divine senses, once attuned to the subtle harmonies of celestial spheres, now registered nothing but the overwhelming cacophony of her own need.
As Lileka withdrew yet again, leaving her trembling and unfulfilled, Sariel's focus shifted to the bonds that held her, cursing them. Lileka was right there, right there, just an inch away. If she could strain just a little further, she could make it… she could press her cunt against the succubus’s face and finally get everything she wanted. The shadow-silk ropes, however, were tight and unyielding as they wound around her body in intricate patterns, anchoring her wings, restraining her limbs — and, crucially, embedding her halo in the complex webbing that held her against the stone, preventing her from shifting to a new position in the summoning circle. The golden circle pulsed with divine light, its vibrations a continuous torment against her oversensitive flesh.
A terrible clarity cut through the fog of her arousal. The ropes around her halo were what kept her positioned just so, unable to maintain the contact she desperately needed with Lileka's mouth. If she could just move a little more freely, just shift her position slightly...
Once again Lileka lowered her head again, this time delivering a series of precise licks that built Sariel's pleasure to unbearable heights. And then, once more, she pulled away. She was still close enough that Sariel could feel each individual atom of her breath. So close. So close!
She strained against the ropes, pulling harder than before. The shadow-silk tightened in response, but she didn't care about the pain. Her focus was singular: to keep her hips in contact with Lileka's mouth, to find the pressure she needed to tip over the edge. The ropes connecting to her halo pulled taut the same way they had when Lileka had kissed her, the strain visible in the golden light that flickered uncertainly. Sariel felt the resistance and pulled against it anyway.
And, blessedly, it gave a little. She could stretch.
Sariel pressed her pussy against Lileka again, and she could feel the succubus's chuckle against her cunt. It was almost enough to make her cum right there. Her breath caught as her body exploded with sensation. Maybe this time! She strained, the tension building toward unbearable ecstasy as each stroke of Lileka’s tongue brought her closer, closer...
A few seconds later, Lileka pulled away again, a shock of disappointment that almost broke Sariel. She was right there! A single breath from finishing and she stopped! No amount of pleading seemed to change Lileka's mind; she needed to strain harder to put them back in contact again. Over and over she pulled with all her strength, each time getting a little bit closer to what she needed, each time feeling the ropes advance a little further, each time feeling Lileka pull back, each time getting denied.
She bit her lip, her whole body shaking, as she strained again. It hurt, the way the ropes sliced into her skin, but the pain only made the sensation sharper, only made her want it more. Exactly the way Lileka said she’d wanted it. As badly as she had wanted Raziel and been too afraid to admit it.
She was close again, so impossibly close, the building pressure in her pussy an echo of the building pressure in the pulled-taut ropes. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, not even aware of what she was saying anymore, not even caring. “I’m sorry please please please I’m…” She didn’t even have breath to scream. She was a blinding, frantic, pure intensity of need and once again, when she was right there, once again, once again…
Once again it was useless. Again and again…
Lileka pulled away with another, brutal, merciless denial. The ropes snapped her back against the stone, and something snapped inside her too, the agony of not getting what she needed becoming so intense that it circled around and became pleasure on its own. She could feel the succubus's breath against her soaking wet folds, and she was so open, so vulnerable, so exposed, so impossibly close, and Lileka still did nothing. It was more than Sariel could stand.
The words that left her mouth were nonsense, a babble of broken gratitude and desperate need, but her body was more determined. It moved on its own, the last fragments of her self-control shattering as she pulled against the angelic bindings with everything she had, as her pretty, slutty wings strained against the ropes that held them. She managed to get another inch out of the binding holding her in place. She heard Lileka laugh, felt the hot wetness of her mouth close around her clit again, felt the first impossible shock of orgasmic release…
Felt the first impossible shock of orgasmic release denied as Lileka pulled back yet again. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! She wasn’t going to be able to take another, not even one more!
She took three.
Each denial left her more wild, more crazed, more eager to debase herself with whatever it took to cum. Each denial made it harder to wait, harder to think, harder to care about anything else. Each denial found her getting closer and closer and closer, the tautness of her bindings the only limit, the ropes binding her in place the only thing preventing her from finishing on Lileka’s beautiful face.
Sariel knew now. She knew how close she had been, knew how close she could be again if she just kept pulling. If she just strained the way she had strained before, if she just kept moving and pulling and stretching and pulling and pulling and pulling.
She pressed her pussy against Lileka again, clit so swollen it could feel Lileka’s smile. She could feel her own body so ready it could explode any instant. She could do this!
She could do this!
Once again the ropes held her back, but not as firmly this time, not as securely. Once again she was pulled into snapping tension, the blinding, radiant light the only thing holding her back. Her entire body was there, her soul was there, so close to release that she felt like she was going to incinerate with need. She did this!
She could do this!
She would do this even if it destroyed her.
Even if it destroyed her halo.
The light was beginning to flicker, the brightness fading. Her hips were free, free enough that it felt like everything was about to break, everything was about to snap, everything was about to-
In a moment of clarity in her need, Sariel realized what she was doing. There was no more slack in the silk… she had run out of that a long time ago. The shadow-silk binding her could stretch no further… so each time she had been scooting forward, she had been forcing her halo bond to her to stretch instead, pulling it a little further from her. She was leaving the glowing ring of divine light behind, one jerk of her hips at a time.
In any other circumstance, the very thought would have been unthinkable. An angel's halo wasn't merely decorative; it was the physical manifestation of their divine grace, the visible sign of their connection to celestial power. Only the Archangels of the Heavenly Choir and the Creator himself had the power to strip one away… them, and, apparently, the angel who’s halo it was herself. She had just never thought about it that way before, and it wasn’t surprising. To cast off a halo voluntarily was an act of such profound blasphemy that it had no precedent in angelic history.
But Sariel was beyond such considerations now. She pulled harder, feeling the strange, stretching sensation as the connection between her essence and her halo began to strain. It wasn't pain, exactly — more like the feeling of a limb falling asleep. Lileka’s tongue was against her pussy again, but this time Sariel didn’t even wait for the succubus to pull away… she was already tugging further, trying to get closer. Her focus was absolute as she strained against the binding, pulling her body away from her halo with increasing desperation. The shadow-silk ropes creaked with the tension, the glow of the sacred halo growing more erratic as the connection weakened. How could she abandon such grace? Didn’t she care? Didn’t she want it?
In that moment of clarity beyond reason, beyond divine protocol, the angel Sariel understood perfectly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it.
It was just that she wanted Lileka more.
With a final, desperate wrench, Sariel pulled away. There was a sound like glass breaking, though nothing visible shattered. The halo remained embedded in the shadow-silk, but the ropes attached to it no longer restricted Sariel, and its golden light flickered uncertainly before stabilizing at a dimmer glow. For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Sariel hung suspended in that moment of severance, her divine mind trying to process what she had done. Then, with the sudden freedom of movement, she thrust her hips forward, making contact with Lileka's still-present tongue.
The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming. Without the restraint of her halo, without the tether to divine law, Sariel's could keep her body there with unrestrained abandon, chasing after Lileka’s mouth when next she tried to withdraw. Waves of sensation crashed through her, building upon each other with an intensity that bordered on pain. She cried out, a sound that was barely recognizable as her own voice — raw, primal, stripped of all dignity and propriety and holiness… and with that, stripped of all shame and regret and doubt.
Lileka tongue circling and flicking with perfect pressure. Her hands gripped Sariel's thighs, holding her in place as the pleasure built to impossible heights. "Cum for me, pretty thing," she commanded, the words vibrating against Sariel's flesh. "Cum for the woman you should have always belonged to."
The tension within Sariel reached its breaking point. With a scream that echoed through the chamber, she shattered, her body convulsing as ecstasy ripped through her. The orgasm was unlike anything she could have imagined — a cataclysm of pleasure that obliterated thought, identity, the very boundaries of her being. Passion and need and will like this had accompanied words like “Let there be light.” She was unmade and remade in that moment, her divine essence transformed by the unholy passion that consumed her.
As the pleasure peaked, something else began — a transformation that started at her core and spread outward like wildfire. Brief, fleeing pain mingled with pleasure as her body changed, responding to the severance of her divine connection. Her wings, still bound in shadow-silk, darkened first — the pristine white feathers bleeding to black from the roots outward, as if being dipped in ink. The process was agonizing, each feather burning as its nature shifted from divine to corrupted… but the agony quickly warped into pleasure, and she came harder. The shadow-silk bonds dissolved as Sariel's transformation proceeded, no longer needed to restrain what was now changing of its own accord. Her skin, once luminous with celestial light, took on a different quality — still radiant, but with a darker sheen that absorbed light rather than emanating it.
Sariel's screams shifted in pitch, becoming something beyond ecstasy as her forehead burned with new growth. Two points of intense pressure pushed outward from her skull, forming into curved horns that spiraled upward where her halo had once hovered. They were smaller than Lileka's, newer, but unmistakably the same in nature — the mark of the fallen. Her eyes burned as their color shifted, the divine blue darkening to a rich purple that seemed to glow with its own inner light. Her teeth sharpened slightly, canines elongating into subtle points that pressed against her lower lip. Every aspect of her angelic form was being rewritten, the divine template corrupted by her decision to choose for herself.
Through it all, the pleasure continued, each change accompanied by waves of physical sensation that kept her on the edge of consciousness. It was destruction and creation simultaneously, an unholy rebirth that stripped away millennia of divine conditioning and replaced it with something new, something free.
When it was finally over, Sariel lay panting on the stone floor, her transformed body trembling with aftershocks of both pleasure and pain. The shadow-silk ropes had completely disappeared, leaving her unbound physically even as she was freed from divine constraints. Lileka stared down at her, red eyes wide with a mixture of triumph and wonder. "You actually did it," she whispered, reaching out to touch one of Sariel's newly formed horns. "You… chose to fall.”
Sariel's voice, when she found it, was different — less meek, more certain. "I chose you," she said simply, the truth of it resonating through her transformed being.
Something flashed across Lileka's face — a complex emotion that contained both vindication and a small flash of unexpected vulnerability. "Why?" she asked, and beneath the demand was an echo of the angel she had once been, the Raziel who had loved Sariel enough to risk everything.
Sariel reached up, her hand cupping Lileka's cheek with newfound boldness. "Because you were right," she admitted. "You were always right".
Sariel arches up to meet her, her lips claiming Lileka's in a fierce kiss. It was not a surrender, not an admission of defeat, but an embrace of everything she had once denied herself. Her new tongue tangled with her lover's, exploring the heat of Lileka's decadent mouth the way she had always wanted to and never dared. She tasted the spice of the woman who had torn her world apart, and she savored it, unwilling to ever let it go again. Her arms wrapped around Lileka, drawing her close, as if sealing her decision in a pact that would never be broken.
Lileka moaned into the kiss, a sound of surprise and absolute possession. She was passionate as their mouths melded, her sharp teeth grazing Sariel's new lower lip like a promise. There was heat, there was fury, there was more need in it than Sariel had thought possible. It felt like a rite, like a sacrament, like creation itself.
Lileka was just as overwhelmed, and she was relentless as she kissed the transformed creature beneath her. Sariel’s new horns dug into Lileka’s chest, and her new wings fluttered, and everything about the woman who had made her fall felt like pure bliss. Her tongue plundered Sariel, untamed and burning with lust and triumph, deepening the kiss with savage intensity. She wanted to mark Sariel with every touch, every breath, claiming her like she was planting a flag in her, making her hers.
When they broke the kiss, both women were gasping. “I’m so sorry, Raziel,” the newly fallen angel said, tears slipping from her face. “I was a fool. I never wanted to hurt you, but I was so afraid. Please don’t hate me.”
Lileka laughed, the sound surprisingly gentle. "Oh, I do hate you," she said, her fingers tracing the curve of one of Sariel's smaller horns. "But I love you more. I always have." She leaned closer, her lips hovering just above Sariel's. "I think, with time, I will learn to forgive you.”
"And we have an eternity for me to prove to you how sorry I am… and how worthy I am of your forgiveness," Sariel replied as Lileka pulled her down beside her. Their bodies fit together differently now, both corrupted… but both free from the constraints that had kept them separate for eons. "…Did you have a plan for getting out of this circle, Raziel?"
Lileka chuckled darkly. “I’m sure a mortal will be by eventually. A week. A month. A year. A thousand… someone will come by and set us free eventually. I’m certainly in no hurry to be anywhere else… we have eons of time to make up for it.”
Sariel nodded, understanding the path ahead would not be easy. The Heavenly Choir would mark her as fallen, as corrupted beyond redemption. The divine order she had served for eternity would now count her among its enemies. But as she looked at Lileka — at the being who had been Raziel, who had loved her enough to confess and fall and still love her through it all — she felt a strange new peace settling within her transformed soul.
"I love you," she said, the words that had once seemed blasphemous now flowing easily from her lips. "I always have."
"I know," Lileka replied, her smile widening. "Why do you think I worked so hard to make you admit it?" She leaned down, pressing another kiss to Sariel's lips. "Welcome to the first day of our eternity, my fallen angel. And now, I think it's time you show me." She rose, shifting, positioning herself so that her sex hovered just above the former angel's mouth. "Show me how much that holy tongue of yours absorbed from what I did to you."
Sariel had barely opened her mouth before Lileka lowered herself, her wetness making contact with Sariel's lips… even more eager for this and Sariel herself was. Sariel extended her tongue, tasting Lileka's essence. It was different from what she had feared — not foul or corrupted, but rich and complex, with an underlying sweetness that reminded her, painfully, of the nectar that had once flowed in the Garden of Eden.
Lileka moaned, and it excited her, driving her to greater efforts. She wanted this, wanted to taste Lileka's pleasure, wanted to be the cause of it.
As their bodies connected once more, this time with no restraint or resistance, Sariel embraced her new reality. She had fallen, yes — had given up divine grace for the twin forbidden fruits of sapphic love and carnal knowledge. But in that fall, she had found a truth about herself that heaven, for all its perfection, had never allowed her to acknowledge. And perhaps that truth, painful as it was, was worth the price of admittance to a true paradise that she would never let go of.
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