Angel Violation

I love angels and demons. From my religious standpoint, they are celestial programs, but in stories, they are the ultimate corruption and innocence. I don’t use them in my stories, but sometimes I like to read about them. This is a violent little story that has flavors of Resident Evil.

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As of 12:01, January 1, 2007 something was very wrong in Los Angles. Black walls rose up around an area of 100 square miles, and kept on rising. Nobody could see through them into the city’s heart. They billowed like smoke, yet retained their thick form all the way up to the cold void of space. The first spy satellites passed through and stopped reporting back. They never came out the other side. Every manmade communication device around the walls was spraying static. The psychically attuned felt multiple agonies; the strongest minded of them began to bleed from the eyes and ears.

The LAPD went in first. There were a lot of their own people in there, after all. They didn’t come back out. Then National Guard units; likewise, nothing was heard from them after. Even lone individuals who walked into the smoke with the aim of dodging right back out were lost. After two hours, and to the protests of PETA representatives, cattle were driven in on long chains. The chains pulled and jerked and came back slack.

The Army was called in, and put a barrier all around the walls. The religious prayed through the night, believing the Day of Judgment to be upon the world. The screaming agony of the psychics fueled the hysteria, while the cunning men and wise women worked to shield themselves. Every news crew for miles around drove or flew into the scene. Across the world, every channel showed footage of the dark walls silhouetted against the night sky. There were millions of people inside the walls; New Year celebrants, residents, workers serving the celebrants, cops and criminals. The government blamed a terrorist attack. The terrorists were too busy praying for merciful salvation to respond.

Dawn broke, and nothing had changed. No new ideas. A few people, driven by insanity or who knows what else, had made it past the army and through the dark walls. And there was another who sought entry. Golden haired and possessed of beauty beyond any mortal being, she flew above the shining ocean and gazed upon the distant dark column. As it thrust phallically into the smoggy clouds above the city, she was minded of the Tower of Babel so many centuries past.

Her great white wings beat against the air and carried her body in all defiance of the laws of physics. She wore little; a golden metal belt supporting a thong of soft white fabric, an intricately carved bra and wide shoulder guards forged from the same metal. Her upper and lower limbs bore bracer guards in the same style, while a sword longer than her own torso was sheathed and strapped to her back. The metal looked like gold, and yet was far lighter and far, far, stronger. It held an edge like sunlight on spider-silk. The sandals on her feet were plain leather and narrowly strapped. She would say she wears this clothing to avoid inflaming mortal lusts, yet the few garments she wears accentuate her beauty.

Her name is Luzurial, an Archangel of the heavenly host. See her brown eyes, which glint with the wisdom and experience of all the time that ever there was. See her red lips at the center of an expression of calm compassion. See the sunlight shining on her golden hair as it is blown about by her wings and the wind, and on the brilliant metal of her armor. See her stomach, slim above shapely hips and long, toned, legs. See the firm curve of her breasts, and the breeze ruffling the tiny slip of fabric at her crotch; it stretches back between her legs and rejoins her belt at the back. See the Power and the Glory of the Creator demonstrated in the body of the Archangel Luzurial.

She was created female; Not a woman, because that word indicates base humanity; a creature born of mud. Luzurial is as far from the mud as any creature may be, a being of purity and light. She is the strongest of the host, save for those few who serve as direct vessels for the power of the Creator. She distinguished herself in the war against the fallen, and a thousand times since in battle, and in her wisdom, compassion, and purity.

She flew toward the dark column knowing what no mortal did outside it; the city of angels had become a place of monsters. The New Year celebrations had turned to scenes of appalling horror. A single demon had been reborn to a human mother and loosed upon the world of men. He came to Earth far to the north and east, and raped his human mother repeatedly, as he consumed all but her head. He sought to taunt the hosts of heaven, and so traveled to the City of Angels to establish his kingdom.

He was cunning, this demon. He had a birthright to walk on Earth, and declared himself independent of the forces of Hell. The hosts could not attack in force, for such an overt action would bring about the last battle between heaven and hell. And at humanity’s stage of ethical development, the Angelic Host could win only at great cost to the mortal world.

Humanity’s own champions should defeat the demon, if only the arrogant host could trust the task to them. A course of action was debated over and over through the Californian night, until the Archangel and Seraph Luzurial had stood, and declared she would go alone and destroy the demon. She had left immediately, before any could argue, and without the blessing of the host.

The Archangel Luzurial began to glow from within as she flew; soon she was visible to mortal eyes only as a great ball of light, painful to the eyes. She crossed the city to the wonder of the gathered masses. The wall opened on her approach and suddenly the human radios crackled with screams and massed human voices, crossed and mixed together. They cut off again instantly as the wall sealed behind the ball of light.

High above, clouds glowed red and purple, as they boiled under unnatural pressures. They seemed to mix with the black walls at the edges, like an artificial ceiling. The clouds’ glow was the main light source, with mains electricity cut off. Human and even animal screams carried on the air and reached the ears of Luzurial as she alighted in a rubble-strewn street.

A sensation of incredible evil flowed out from the very heart of the city. There was only one true demon in the city, but still great monsters stalked the streets. These were born from the minds and souls of the citizens, the seven deadly sins made flesh by the evil corrupting the city. Directly in front of the Archangel a business-suited woman was being brutally raped by the tentacled manifestation of her own lust. Two thick red tentacles thrust in tandem under her tight grey skirt while others wrapped around her breasts and squeezed them within her crumpled blouse.

The Archangel drew her long sword; it seemed to glow from within, unaffected by the sickly light of the clouds. Luzurial drove the blade of her sword into the road’s surface. She knelt and gripped the hilt in both hands. The Archangel began to sing in a voice far louder, and with notes far purer, than her small body seemed as if it should be capable of. She began to glow from within again, even as the lust monster ejaculated inside its wailing victim. Thick spunk sprayed down from under the woman’s skirt as the lust monster pumped out more than she could contain.

The bright glow spread out from the Archangel. She felt it moving through the entire city except for a resistant circle a mile across at the very center. Luzurial’s singing ceased as she stood and already she could feel the change. As the demon had awakened the sins of the people, so Luzurial had awakened and given strength to their virtues. The avatar of the raped woman’s kindness formed in the street as a noble Amazonian warrior, whose presence alone dimmed the power of the lust. Luzurial smiled, though sweat beaded her brow. In pausing to give a chance to those trapped humans who survived, she had weakened herself.

She walked down the long street with her sword hilt gripped in both hands. There were battles raging now; virtue and vice locked in combat. The Archangel noted bodies in the street; some had suffered the attentions of dogs, and all had flies buzzing nearby already. The death of each human would also have destroyed their sin monsters. Few humans’ sins or virtues were great enough to live after their deaths. The stench of death hung heavily over the city, but Luzurial knew many more lived. She suspected the demon had initially targeted all those humans who might be capable of destroying him, the champions and heroes. Turning a corner, Luzurial was faced with the fate of the LAPD. The golden haired archangel picked her way over and around a massive body pile, which was spread a long way down the street. Blood drenched her sandals and splashed her legs. The police officers had been torn apart by sin monsters – the demon must have sent them at specific targets. The wrath of one section of the population in particular had been great and terrible; some of the bodies were so badly mashed as to be unrecognizably human. That was why Luzurial walked through the corpses for nearly ten minutes before realizing that there were very few female officers lying amongst them.

The first female corpse the strong-stomached Archangel found was a muscular black woman with long dreadlocks. Luzurial felt echoes of her life as a vigilante and anti-drugs campaigner. She had destroyed her own sin monsters with cunning and skill and set out towards the center of the disturbances to look for her sister. The demon had clearly sensed the approach of a champion’s soul and had her overwhelmed. The woman had been eviscerated and choked with her own intestines; the blood-slick metal of a baseball bat could be seen in her stomach, while only the handle emerged from her cunt. Now virtue fought alongside humanity, it would be harder for any champion to be overwhelmed.

Luzurial sheathed her blade and took to the skies again then; mighty feathered wings beating the air as she flew fast across the partly destroyed streets towards the demon’s core of control. The street’s filth and blood dropped off under her will; Luzurial was too pure to be dirty. She could see fires burning in some areas, but also the glow of virtues-made-flesh as they battled vice across Los Angles. The Archangel had faith in the people’s inherent goodness to destroy evil, though where she saw suffering and pain she felt a great tug in her breast to interfere further.

Most of the very center, which had been resistant to the Archangel’s power, was flattened down into dusty rubble; all this accomplished in a few hours. Even the rubble was compacted and leveled to leave an area a mile across which was mostly flat. Luzurial saw a series of fenced areas, like animal pens; there were captured female LAPD officers, and there, holy women and even witches the demon seemingly judged not to be a thread.

Sin monsters dragged freshly captured officers even then, captured from blowholes about the city. At the center the demon sat on a throne of bloody human bones, surrounded by a great floor of black and white tiles. Pillars stood about the place, supporting nothing. A fire-pit burned while meat cooked over it; Luzurial recognized the smell of human flesh. She knew the demon could eat human flesh raw, and suspected the smell reminded it of home.

The red and purple clouds boiled fiercest high above, and the sick glow was brightest by far. The demon was easily eight feet tall and muscles bulged beneath his dark red, almost crimson, skin. Ten inch long black horns emerged from his forehead and pointed straight upwards, over eyes that seemed to emit both red light and darkness. He held a Latino officer in his great, clawed, hands. She was screaming and praying in Spanish on each brutal foot long stroke as he bounced her on his spike ended cock. He hadn’t bothered stripping the woman; he’d just pushed right through her uniform pants to rape her.

He grinned widely, as the Archangel landed at the edge of the tiled floor, and slammed the cop down until she was completely impaled on his thick length. She glimpsed the Archangel through her tears and reached towards Luzurial, ecstatically happy through her pain. The loving creator had sent an angel to end her torment. The priests had not lied to her all her life!

The demon came then, firing molten cum into the Latino officer’s womb. She screamed with eyes as wide as saucers as the sizzling cum burned through her reproductive organs. The agony of the rape seemed like a happy memory as demon sperm cooked her from within. He pulled her from his shaft and tossed her body all the way to the fire pit. She bounced on the edge as bones cracked, and then rolled into the flames. Her final desperate screams sounded across the leveled ground. Luzurial knew there was nothing she could do for the woman; save pray that her soul was uncorrupted.

“It has been a long while, Luzurial the Pure, since we were comrades of the host, singing adulation to the Creator! Do you recognize me in my new flesh? What do you make of my city? It’s a work in progress, no? It will be the capital of my new kingdom, no, my Empire!”

“Aye, Demon,” Luzurial recognized her foe, and spoke with a voice as melodious and beautiful as her singing,” You are Eparlegna, but you will have no Empire. Return to the pit, Demon. It is not yet time for your kind to rule on Earth. There will be no final battle, yet.”

Eparlegna acknowledged his name with a nod of his bald demonic head. Once, he had been a Seraph as handsome as the Archangel who stood defiantly before him. Now, born of a human mother, he was flawed – weaker than he had been in millennia. He needed to have himself reborn again from demon seed and immortal flesh.

“Pure one, these humans have an expression: Not in a million fucking years, bitch.”

The Archangel’s sword burst into flame as she held it aloft. The flames burned with such intensity that the captured humans had to shield their eyes.

“I have offered you the chance to leave of your own volition. Now I will grant you oblivion instead.”

Luzurial reached out with her angelic soul, feeling for hellish magic and hidden demonic power. She was good at finding the traps of Hell, but it seemed to her that Eparlegna was weak; that he relied on everyone being so awed by what he had done so far to attack.

The demon lounged back on his great throne, his obscene cock still prominently hard from his crotch. Molten seed was slick down its length, and provided a pleasurable lubrication as he began to stroke from spiked end to the base of his shaft. He stared back directly at Luzurial as the Archangel strode towards him. So terribly predictable, he thought.

The invisible field knocked Luzurial to the ground. She blinked in shock, having felt no evil magic. The tiles around her began to glow with a light as pure as her own. She was in a circle marked with human symbols. They were ancient, by human standards, but still recognizably human. Somehow the circle bound her on all sides; she could feel its effects curved over her head like a dome.

“After the flood,” began Eparlegna, conversationally, “humans suddenly started to lose a bit of faith in the Creator and his servants. That old lech Solomon might have bound my kind in later centuries, but early on they were more concerned with protecting themselves from the host, pure one.”

The demon left his throne and came to stand a few feet away from the trapped Archangel. He towered over Luzurial, masturbating faster and harder as he spoke,

“One circle. One Angel. If another of His feathered pets were here, they could walk by you and try to grant me oblivion… but there’s only you, isn’t there? No comrades in arms. We both came alone! Perhaps later… we will come together?”

The demon laughed, his cock stroking hand a crimson blur. Luzurial stretched out her wings, pressing with her incredible flight muscles at the sides of the circle. It pushed back just as hard. It wasn’t demonic magic, and no simple blast of pure power could shake or disrupt it. She began to glow again from within, brighter and brighter. It shone through the hands and eyelids of those who tried to shield their gaze. It caused even Eparlegna to shield his eyes with one hand. Still, the dome held; all the purity of Luzurial could do was fuel it, and strengthen her prison.

She slashed her sword down in a massive overhead blow. The force of all the Archangel’s righteousness was in that blow, and it cut through the edge of the pure white circle, weakening the grip on her. Another slash, and she would be free! Her thin smile of triumph was instantly destroyed by the thirty or so voices raised in screams of agony and terror.

The Archangel felt her emotions seize up as she realized too late the demon’s cunning; the circle was tied sympathetically to the souls of captured holy women. Luzurial blinked back tears of regret and sorrow as she saw the sword slash mirrored across their bodies; blood and deeply sliced organs were sliding around as they fell, trying to keep their insides within.

The chorus of suffering was most pleasurable to Eparlegna, and brought on his climax. He sprayed his sizzling load several feet, splashing across the Archangel’s breasts and armored bra. Her flesh was beyond human, and while she winced to feel the intense heat, even as it began to melt through her armor her skin was barely scalded. Taking the demon’s money shot was far more psychologically hurtful, a signal of degradation. She had caused innocents to suffer with her rash strike and worse, achieved little by doing so.

“You made me an offer, pure one. To leave this place. I make you a counter offer. Foreswear the service of the creator. Join me, and rule an Empire as my consort. You can feel my seed on your skin, would you not rather have it in your womb?”

The demon’s seed splattered into the dirt as the beautiful Archangel scraped it from her skin. Her half melted armored bra was warped and useless, so she dropped it to the side. Her awesome breasts were revealed in their entirety for the first time, perfect unblemished mounds of flesh, tipped with dark brown areola and large nipples. Eparlegna was so impressed he almost forgot to shore up the circle by muttering the rite to bind more holy women into it. Those who had suffered slashed open bellies were dying by the second.

Luzurial responded to the demon’s mocking offer by spitting onto the tiles, and raising her sword again. She sought a route out of her bindings that did not involve the death of innocents – but if innocents had to die, they would be rewarded in heaven for their sacrifice.

The ground rumbled round about. Luzurial cast her gaze down and around, while trying to keep her eye on the demon Eparlegna. When the tentacles burst from the two nearest freestanding pillars instead they took the Archangel by surprise. The same shade of grey as the pillars, they even felt like cold, hard, stone. Yet they flexed and moved like prehensile tails as they coiled around Luzurial’s arms and legs, two to each limb. She still gripped her flaming sword, but the angle was wrong for a powerful swing. The blade knocked lightly into the stone tentacle and sparks rose, but it had no discernable effect.

The stone grip would have pulped human limbs. Luzurial grunted as they tightened around hers, and felt herself being raised into the air as the slack was withdrawn back into the pillars. In scant seconds she was suspended above the ground, arms and legs spread wide. Eparlegna, whole controlled the pillars, kept up the pressure until the stone tentacles were almost buzzing like violin strings from their tautness. Only the divinely created angelic flesh kept Luzurial’s limbs from so much as dislocating, though the strain was intense.

The Archangel was growing desperate as her wings beat hard behind her. She hoped to tear herself loose, but even the strength of her mighty wings could not pull her free. The demon posed in the refreshing breeze, and then had another tentacle shoot out hard and knock the sword from Luzurial’s fingers. The beautifully forged blade clattered down onto the black and white tiles beneath. The circle trapped the Archangel, so the tentacles served to humiliate her further, holding her on display for the demon.

She had not tasted failure ever; not once since before time began to flow. Now her increasing feeling of helplessness told her it was a distinct prospect. Eparlegna had overpowered her as if she were the humblest angel of the host, and now she was sure to suffer hellish tortures for her failure. She felt human tears welling up within her, but fought them down. The Archangel Luzurial did not show weakness before the fallen! Her defiance would give hope to those captured humans who watched from the pens. She could take whatever cruelty the demon had to give, and come back to claim his head in the name of the Creator! He would be cast down to the greatest darkness of all!

“Creator, grant me strength,” she prayed.

Eparlegna’s peals of laughter echoed off distant buildings.

Eparlegna could feel the minds of all of the captured women, the cops, and the others. He had so many held there, and many more out in the city – even if they deluded themselves that they still were free. Within the dark walls, his power was superior to all – the clouds high above blocked even the sun. However, the captured officers of the LAPD interested the demon most at that moment.

There was a lot of fear there, and it had increased tenfold in some once the Archangel had stepped into his trap. There was hatred too, for Eparlegna, and even towards the struggling Luzurial, for her failure. The demon concentrated on those minds most of all, to find what he needed. He smiled ghoulishly, and walked away from the struggling Archangel to stand close to the fenced LAPD officers. Those nearest shrank back, almost fighting amongst themselves to get away. The demon was struck again by the similarity of their movements to mindless cattle.

“Officer Sondra Jackson,” he called, and looked that officer in the eyes, gazing through her shades as if they weren’t there. The women around her all turned their heads in confusion, while Eparlegna found the other mind he’d felt, “Officer Molly MacPherson.” The same reaction followed from the police officer and her comrades around her.

Luzurial watched closely too, her compassionate heart heavy at the thought of witnessing further murders. Still, she struggled; the Archangel could fight and fly for all eternity, and felt that with time she could break the stone bonds that held her, and find a way from the circle. She saw the two women identified, and tried to work out why Eparlegna considered them worthy of direct attention – did his infernal mind even need a reason?

The first, Sondra Jackson, was a curvaceous black woman in her mid thirties. She was short, maybe only 5’2, and carried weight around her ass and her stomach, but carried it well. She was plump rather than fat, and looked good with it. Her skin was a dark nutty brown, while her hair was in tight black curls beneath her cap. She had heavy breasts tightly contained inside her uniform, and still wore her mirror shades though her weapons had been taken from her – as with all of the cops.

Molly MacPherson, the second, was entirely opposite. Her parents had moved to L.A. from the Republic of Ireland, and she retained a strong west Irish accent. She was naturally as skinny as a rake, and her nearly 6’ height accentuated it. Only working out to tone up her body and provide the strength to do the job gave her anybody mass. Her skin was pale even with the hot California sun – she used blocker – and there were even freckles on her face, beneath her vibrant red hair. The hair was trapped in a tight ponytail, and like Sondra she wore her cap and uniform. Molly’s breasts were small and high on her chest, and perhaps both of them could have fit inside one of Sondra’s. She was a decade younger than Sondra, and didn’t know her fellow officer; still, their eyes met through the crowd when their names were called.

Luzurial realized what had drawn the demon’s attention to them; they were the most corrupt of all of the Los Angles Police Department that had actually been captured. Sondra had a whole range of scams running, just about everything a dirty cop could be into – kickbacks, protection, carefully failing to investigate leads on certain cases, intimidations and assaults. About the only thing she was short on, was Molly MacPherson’s specialty: extrajudicial executions and hit jobs.

The demon held his hands out to them before every pair of eyes present, but only they heard the offer he made. Molly agreed instantly, Sondra after a few seconds. Their answers passed back silently, and Eparlegna smiled his toothy smile. He leaped the fence easily, and moved amongst the captured policewomen. Their yelps of fear as they tried desperately to get out of the way were like fine wine to the demon. Only two fought their way towards the demon who, being at least eight feet tall, towered above them.

Luzurial opened her mouth to plead with them, to change their minds with virtuous words. A song might even be enough to bring their repentance for sins past, and save their souls. The first syllable was past her lips when a stone tentacle burst from the tiles, snaked up between her cum-smeared breasts, and filled her mouth. The Archangel’s voice was instantly muffled. Luzurial ground her teeth into it, and felt the stone start to crack under her incredible jaw strength. The stone could feel no pain though, and she quickly realized it would simply stuff more inside her mouth until her throat was blocked with rubble. Her frustrated groan sounded loudly around the stone on her tongue, while smooth cold stone rubbed and flexed between her sticky breasts.

The demon ran his finger against the opposite wrist, and a tiny red line appeared. The chosen policewomen knelt before him, surrounded on all sides by their friends, their fellow officers. Eparlegna touched a finger to the line, and came away with a drop of his own blood. He pressed it against Sondra’s thrust forward tongue, and then Molly’s. Their eyes started to glow, a red flickering glow as if there were flames within. The blood ritual was basic, but they felt the demon’s power within them. They felt each other’s minds, and that of the master. They saw the minds of the women around them, and further afield. They felt the Archangel’s righteousness, her purity and the beginnings of her fear.

They also felt incredibly horny. Molly couldn’t tell whether she wanted to fuck, or to kill, more. Like Sondra, she was something beyond human now. Eparlegna indicated the bound angel with his hand, and spoke aloud so that all would hear his command to his servants, and fear his will.

“I will take you from this cattle pen so that you can sate your lusts on a heavenly body. Show the Seraph the pleasures of the flesh, but do not break her maidenhood. That is mine.”

“NO!” the cry surprised even Eparlegna, who in his pride hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the minds of the crowd.

Bernice Goldstein had been a street cop for years. She was hard as nails, and had faith to match any holy woman. Seeing, the capture of the Archangel had driven her to the edge; the willing self-abasement of her fellow officers before the demon pushed her over it. She clutched her Star of David pendant in one fist and charged the eight-foot tall demon. Eparlegna flinched back from the power of faith channeled through the holy object, but Bernice never made it to him. Sondra’s hefty frame hit her like a truck, slamming her hard into the ground, before she even got close to the big demon. The Star of David skittered across the tiles.

Bernice punched the black woman right in the face, but Sondra barely felt it; her nose completely failed to shatter. Her mirror shades flew sideways though, forgotten. Eparlegna held his hand up, and a sidearm appeared in it. He handed the weapon to Molly. The redhead walked over to where Sondra held Bernice’s hands across her tits. She was pushing down hard enough to crush them through the enraged woman’s uniform. Bernice screamed as blood and fat seeped into her uniform as her arms ground through.

Molly pressed the barrel of the gun down against Bernice’s forehead. Bernice found her head forced back against the floor. She was screaming abuse at the traitor cops, good old Yiddish curses her Grandfather had learned in the East End of London. The crotch of Molly’s uniform pants was drenched with arousal. Sondra looked around, making eye contact with all the officers who were holding back, watching their friend murdered.

Molly blew Bernice’s brains out. The bullet tore through the tough cop’s skull and spread her brains across the ground. Bernice stopped struggling instantly, though her body twitched as she pissed her panties. Molly didn’t notice; she was too busy screaming through a hell-charged orgasm. Eparlegna had made it so that the most evil acts committed by Sondra and Molly would be rewarded with sexual ecstasy.

Bernice was left where she lay amongst the weeping and shell-shocked LAPD officers. Eparlegna rearmed his servants completely after taking them out of the pen, and mockingly buffed up Molly’s name badge. He then selected a terrified cop, Yolanda Dawson, and dragged her hair to his throne. He intended now to save his seed for impregnating the Archangel, but he still wanted a little fun as he watched his newest servants break her. Sondra and Molly strode eagerly over to the bound Archangel.

“Hey bitch, welcome to L.A.– hope you have a really nice day,” said Molly, when they stood within touching distance.

“Reckon we got us an Illegal immigrant here,” Sondra chuckled, “I bet she’s got drugs up her ass. She looks the type. Real fly-by-night character.”

Cop humor. Luzurial met their gazes with defiance, though the stone tentacle still blocked her reply. The corrupt cops could feel the stone tentacles too; they could command them with their minds. It was quite a rush. The new strength in their bodies allowed them to stand firm against the wind from Luzurial’s beating wings. The Archangel looked into their doubly corrupted minds and saw no hope of repentance, of redemption. She came to Earth alone to try to save these people, and they willingly gave themselves to Hell instead. Emotional pain, and sadness, shone in Luzurial’s eyes.

Molly reached out first, and stroked her hand softly up Luzurial’s thigh. She found the simple clasp on the Archangel’s belt and loosed it. The belt and soft fabric crotch covering attached to it dropped to the tiles below. Sondra moved it to the side, along with the Archangel’s sword. Luzurial felt the cold wind on her bare snatch and uncovered anus. She still wore her sandals, metal bands on her stone-tentacle gripped arms, and an empty sword sheath - but she was otherwise naked.

Naked before the demon, and Yolanda Dawson, whose arm he was eating while her blood ran down his chin; naked before the demon’s corrupted and hell bound servants; naked before the corralled and captured woman nearby. Still, it was only the flesh given her by the creator. Her sense of shame was relatively minor, for Luzurial’s beauty was a gift.

The cops liked her nakedness, lines of sexual orientation forever blurred in lust. The redheaded cop stroked her fingers gently up Luzurial’s outer lips. The lightest, most gentle, touch between her legs felt better than the Archangel had ever imagined.

She bit through the stone tentacle in her mouth in shock. Eparlegna had it withdraw, and the stone slid seamlessly back into the tiles below. Grey fragments dropped from her mouth as the Archangel shook her head in denial of the pleasure. Molly laughed and leaned forward to lick Luzurial’s semi-divine cunt. She moaned softly at her first taste of Luzurial’s virginal slit.

Sondra ducked beneath the tentacles around Luzurial’s right arm, and stepped over the tentacles gripping her leg, to walk around behind. As Luzurial was still suspended above the tiles, the black cop stroked her hands as far up the Archangel’s back as she could, and then buried her face between the Archangel’s buttocks. Luzurial felt the woman’s tongue on her anus and stopped flapping her wings.

The dual-tongued assault was too much for the pure Archangel. She started to pray aloud to the creator for salvation, but her voice was breaking with the growing forced pleasure. Molly slipped a hand into the waist of her uniform pants and worked her own pussy as she suckled the Archangel’s clit into her mouth.

Sondra pulled her face away from Luzurial’s ass and worked a finger in, quickly following it with another. Eparlegna had only said they couldn’t break her maidenhood, her hymen, after all. Molly stroked her fingers against the Archangel’s dripping pussy, matching the slick rhythm she was building against her own snatch. Luzurial’s desperate unanswered prayer was interrupted by moans that shamed her more deeply than her capture, her nudity.

“Hey, Sondra! This bitch is really wet. I never realized angels were such whores. No wonder people want to be priests, if they get a piece of this!”

Sondra chuckled at the white cop’s abuse, and muttered something about how she thought child molestation had more to do with it. She was concentrating on working another finger into Luzurial’s tight ass. She wanted to fist the winged bitch. The pleasure/pain of the rectal stretching was combining with Molly’s fast, agile, tongue to destroy Luzurial’s remaining scraps of determination and willpower. Her prayer was entirely reduced to wordless panting, while her rich golden hair hung around a sweaty slick face. Molly looked up and winked, before returning to her oral ministrations.

Eparlegna’s latest victim, Yolanda, was being kept alive by hell magic alone as he finished consuming her limbs, bones and all. He tore bloodily into a breast before returning his concentration to the defilement of Luzurial the Pure. His two pet cops were serving him well, and the sweet scent of Luzurial’s arousal reached his nose even through all other smells of burning meat and violated flesh. He found that the mere sight of a helpless angel between pillars was almost enough to make him shoot his boiling load like a fountain.

What had the creator intended in giving such beauty to the angelic host? What was the point of giving them sexual organs, and then keeping them celibate? Eparlegna wondered if the creator’s mysterious ways had a darker intent than any, save perhaps the Gnostics, had ever truly considered. Then he ate Yolanda’s other breast.

Luzurial squealed as Sondra finally forced an entire fist into her tight angelic butt. Sondra noted the erotic contrast between the Archangel’s pale, tightly stretched skin, and her own nutty brown flesh. She punch-fucked the panting Archangel’s ass, and greatly intensified the pleasure/pain mixture.

Luzurial’s ass was so tight that Sondra had to rely on her new strength to get her forearm in and stop it being crushed by the Archangel’s flexing sphincter. Luzurial’s ass felt like it was being torn apart, and each fisting punch inside her rectum echoed loudly. Still, her body betrayed her. Still, her semi-divine flesh responded to the gentle licking and suckling and the rough anal penetration.

“STOP!”

The cops instantly obeyed their evil master’s command, even though it was muffled with steaming organs. Molly stood away from Luzurial, and licked around her mouth to slurp up all of the sweet honey. Luzurial’s cunt was actually steaming in the cold air. Sondra grunted and pulled her fist from the Archangel’s ass. The gaping hole closed impressively fast; Sondra wondered if it would do so after Eparlegna had used it.

Luzurial had been so close to coming. She mindlessly humped her hips as best she could, before realizing that she had fallen right into Eparlegna’s trap again. He laughed to see her desperate, wild eyed and physically, if wordlessly, pleading to be fucked - just like a painted whore. She screamed with humiliated frustration, and tears flowed heavily down her flushed cheeks. Eparlegna swallowed. Yolanda was reduced to a still living head, her mouth moved silently.

“Luzurial the Pure, you have truly become a whore. Would you like me to make a beast for you to ride in this, my Babylon? Or would you prefer it if I made a beast to ride you?”

She raised her head, and he gazed into the suddenly glowing maelstrom of her eyes. The framing tangle of her golden hair reflected the glow, while the purple-red clouds high overhead cast everything else in their own sickly swirling colors.

“Will you beg, Luzurial the Whore? Will you say, Mistress Molly, Mistress Sondra, this pathetic piece of fuck meat suspended before you plead to know ultimate pleasure?”

The glow faded from Luzurial’s eyes, and she pulled together the shreds of her dignity and courage, and spat down into Molly’s face. Molly ran a finger through the saliva, and then slurped it noisily off.

“You will die,” she promised, “All of you, but your death will not be the end. When all eternity is done, still you will suffer. This place will be purged by a rain of fire, and nothing will ever grow here again.”

Sondra chuckled, “Maybe you haven’t been keeping up, slut, but LA ain’t exactly the Midwest.”

“Enough! Give the panting whore what she wants. Show her the meaning of the word orgasm.”

Molly grabbed Luzurial’s hips in her hands and buried her face back into the Archangel’s oozing cunt. Sondra put her own tongue back to work on the recently fisted rectum, teasing and tonguing the sensitive rosebud. They worked together willingly on the bound Seraph. Molly licked and suckled on the unwillingly moaning Archangel’s clit until a forced orgasm tore through the stone-tentacle bound being. Molly was impressed with the amount of juice that sprayed her face. It was like being washed with a hot sweet fire hose; the arousal of an Archangel is a thing of lust-tainted beauty.

Luzurial’s mind and body were burning as she experienced her first ever orgasm. Molly screamed as she too climaxed, the pants of her policy uniform were flooded and dripping with her juice. The redhead dropped to her knees before Luzurial, as the squirting Archangel continued to bathe her face. Sondra ducked back through the tentacles on Luzurial’s right arm and leg, and looked from Luzurial’s shamed face to Molly’s euphoric expression.

The stone tentacles twisted, and dragged the Archangel to her knees on the windswept floor. They pulled her thighs apart, and even separated her ankles. Her wings fluttered half-heartedly behind her, but she was still as helpless as before in the circle. Molly dove face first back between Luzurial’s thighs, hungry to drink more of the Archangel’s nectar. In mere seconds, the Archangel screamed anew in fresh orgasm, eyes rolled back in her head, sticky nipples hard and breasts flushed.

Sondra loosed the last of the Archangel’s armaments, the sword sheath from her back and the decorative bands from her arms. She tossed them aside before straddling Molly’s kneeling body, her crotch level with Luzurial’s face. “You ready for a slice o’ pie, Angel-Bitch?”

Officer Sondra Jackson yanked her uniform pants down to her knees, taking her panties and sanitary towel with them. The strong sense of sweat, arousal and menstrual blood immediately rose to Luzurial’s nose. Sondra’s black bush was thick between her heavily curved thighs, and she happily shuffled forward to wrap her hands in thick golden hair, and pull the Archangel’s face forward.

The Archangel was fighting a losing battle against Molly’s tongue, and her concentration was broken entirely as her nose ground into Sondra’s hole. The cop figured the Archangel wasn’t broken enough to willingly lick her, so she contented with smearing blood and pussy juice all over Luzurial’s face as Molly brought the angelic whore off over and over. The black cop called Luzurial every name she could think of – bitch, ho, whore, slut, cunt, dog fucker – as she ground her thick rough bush into the Archangel’s beauty.

Luzurial’s sense of shame and failure increased as the perverted police officers used her. She was utterly helpless before, and totally betrayed by, these humans. She came again, screaming into the folds of Sondra’s pussy. The black woman’s moaning and abuse reached a feverish pitch. Sondra’s menses and girl cum splashed heavily into Luzurial’s mouth as she rode the bound Archangel’s face to a screaming climax.

“Holy shit,” she muttered afterwards, “I can’t believe I just came all over this winged white bitch’s face!”

Eparlegna called them off after another hour. They had used Luzurial constantly, and brought her to sexual exhaustion through the first near-continuous orgasms of her life. The Archangel had thought she had strength enough to fight for eternity, but a brief session of lesbian bondage had consumed her energy. Surely the circle, or the demon, was sapping her strength also, she thought. She was naked, sweaty and smeared with girl cum & blood. The cops, by then mostly naked, had eagerly licked off the cooled remains of Eparlegna’s semen from her breasts. Luzurial’s face hung down above her well-groped, licked, pinched and nibbled breasts. She had cried a while, and tear tracks streaked the dried blood on her face.

Sondra and Molly approached Eparlegna’s throne, and bowed before him. He spoke into their minds,

“You have done so very well, my Sondra, my Molly - first of my disciples. Go now; play with your former comrades. Those who are like you may join us. Give them my gift as I gave it you. The others shall know no mercy from you. And do not harm the holy women, for I need their energy. Even like this, broken by lust, Luzurial is still a dangerous foe.”

They did as he commanded, strolling to the fenced LAPD officers with wolfish grins. Eparlegna crossed the tiled floor to the filthy-bodied Archangel. He held up the still living head of his meal,

“Alas, poor Yolanda. I ate her, Luzurial, a woman of infinite taste”

He half-turned and bowled the head into the fire pit. Finally, Yolanda achieved merciful death as his power left her. She smiled as the flames consumed her last moral remains, and then even her smile was burned from her skull.

“My slaves have taught you the pleasure of the flesh, Luzurial. A lesson you would never have learned willingly, as a loyal lapdog of the creator. The scent of your arousal is spreading for miles around. You have tasted what can be yours. So I ask you again, one last chance, renounce the creator. Join me as my Queen, willingly, mother my new flesh and be healed anew as a demon.”

Luzurial lifted her head and met Eparlegna’s gaze. Her voice was hoarse and tired, but still defiant.

“Though my flesh has proven weak, my spirit is inviolate.”

She paused,

“Do your worst.”

“Luzurial, you’re a slut,” Eparlegna began, “I think you would enjoy my worst, as you have enjoyed the attentions of my servants, of these stone tentacles.”

Eparlegna waved his arm, and the tentacles retracted, leaving Luzurial bound only by the magic circle. Her wrists were unmarked despite being so tightly gripped, for the Archangel’s physical durability was far above any human’s. Luzurial felt terribly weak after her forced orgasms, but stood defiantly before her demon tormenter. Her great wings fluttered in the growing winds that swept the packed rubble and small tiled floor area at the center of Los Angeles’ demon controlled area. It cooled and dried the sticky fluids left all over the golden-haired angel by her corrupted molesters.

In the air above the circle, twenty feet above Luzurial’s head, a large stone disc formed in the air. The underside appeared carved in the same design of the magic circle. The Archangel could see through tired eyes that it was a creation of hell magic; no hand had ever worked the stone. The dark disc hung immobile, with no visible means of support – a strange sight, and ironic given the many pillars dotted around Eparlegna’s throne that appeared to support nothing at all.

Luzurial tested the edges of her spiritual prison, and found them as solid as before, powered by Eparlegna’s captives. The demon watched her, stroking his large thick shaft idly in a huge clawed hand. The spiked end was still dripping molten seed, which hissed on the ground. He bent down and retrieved Luzurial’s sword with his free hand. Flames burned brightly from the long blade, and he found himself momentarily remembering the fall. Luzurial stared up at the floating disc, trying to gauge Eparlegna’s new intent.

“Satisfied that you’re still in my power, archangel whore?”

“Your destruction will be told as a tale to frighten children, demon,” even Luzurial heard the fatigue in her voice.

“You were more entertaining when you screamed with forbidden pleasure. Now… I think I will enjoy you in chains.”

At Eparlegna’s words, thin metal chains burst from the suspended disc, much as the stone tentacles had done from pillars previously. Luzurial was slowed by her experiences in the circle, and too confined to properly avoid them. Unlike the tentacles, each bore a wickedly sharp claw on the end, apparently taken from Eparlegna’s own fingers (although he had since grown them back, before even the Archangel’s arrival). They twisted in the air, and pierced her palms simultaneously. Eparlegna’s claws gave them the power they needed, and they pressed through inhuman skin and bone with painful ease.

Luzurial grunted as the chains were dragged through her palms, and the claws curved back up to the disc. A moment later, and they suspended her on the very tips of her toes. The added strain on Luzurial’s tired arms, and the pain from her pierced hands, drew a low moan from the Archangel. Blood flowed very slowly from the wounds, which tried to heal around the chains. Luzurial mentally gathered strength and directed her inner light at the wounds, intending the burn the chains away by sheer force of will. The metal heated to red, then white. She gritted her teeth at the searing agony in her hands, and then found to her shock that Eparlegna was able to renew the chains before they could dissolve. Luzurial ceased her futile attempt in surprise.

The demon sniffed at the air, and laughed. The burning flesh was appetizing to him, and he wanted more. He walked around behind the Archangel and raised the flaming sword high over his head. Luzurial tried to jerk in her chains and avoid the blow, but to no avail. Eparlegna brought the fiery blade down in a smooth arc that fried the skin of Luzurial’s back and sliced off her wings. The demon groaned and dropped the flaming sword. Her stroked his huge spiked cock quickly between both clawed hands and then sprayed his boiling demon seed across Luzurial’s scorched back flesh and wing stumps. The Archangel sobbed freely as the evil demon increased her agony tenfold. Her flesh sought to heal itself while her semi-divine blood dribbled down onto the tiles. Eparlegna’s semen interfered with the healing, making the process slow and very painful.

He knelt down and rested his clawed hands on the Archangel’s severed wings. They crumbled to powder as he drew their power into himself, and slowly great bat-like leathery wings emerged from his spine and spread out behind him. He doubted he would ever get to use them on that body, but the power would be passed to his next corporeal form. Standing again, he lifted Luzurial’s sword. Holding the flaming weapon out before him, he exerted his own terrible will upon it, augmented by the power he’d stolen from the Archangel. The weapon reshaped itself, lengthening and gaining flexibility until Eparlegna held a flaming bullwhip in his hand.

He moved back to a good distance and raised his whip arm. Luzurial’s back was bleeding and raw, scorched through to the bone in places by the sheer power of her sword. The sound of the whip cracking as he brought it down across Luzurial’s back drew even the attention of his corrupt servants from their malignant business. Blood and his own vile seed splashed to the tiles under the force of the flaming whip. Luzurial managed to hold in her scream, so Eparlegna whipped her again, and again, and again.

“This reminds me of what the Romans did to the old bastard’s son in Jerusalem! They made suffering his message rather than love, and humanity has bought it ever since! Haha!”

Luzurial’s head hung down above her breasts, with her golden hair wildly arrayed. Eparlegna targeted the most healed parts of her back with the flaming bullwhip, and because it was formed from Luzurial’s weapon each blow caused tremendous damage and terrible pain to her. No mortal could have borne the suffering without dying within the first few lashes. Luzurial took ten before she cried out, and then Eparlegna played her cries like a musical instrument while blood dribbled down the backs of her legs and pooled at her feet.

“Confess that you are a whore!”

“N-no! Damn you back to hell, beast!”

“Your name is whore! Tell me!”

“Burn, demon! I will never submit to you!”

He whipped her another twenty times, even putting burned wounds across her perfect buttocks. Finally, the demon grew tired of this particular torment. He dropped the flaming whip to the floor, and it regained its true form as a sword. He didn’t notice. Instead, he stalked up behind the Archangel and licked her bloody tortured back. Eparlegna’s spiked cock was incredibly hard, and grown even bigger than it had been before. He humped it between Luzurial’s buttocks, pressing her ass cheeks together, and spoke to her in a low voice.

“Your suffering is not all that I want from you, Luzurial. You should have taken my offer and you could have avoided much. Your Archangel’s body is as free from human taint as mine should be. This body was spawned from a human mother, and has human weaknesses … but in your womb will grow a body born of infernal and heavenly flesh with no pathetic mortal elements at all. You’ll be my mother, and your failure will unleash upon Mankind an unstoppable force of Hell … ”

The chains attached to the stone disc pulled upwards, until Luzurial’s feet were above the ground and her weight was taken entirely on her arms and shoulders. The perfect angle for the big demon’s penetration. Eparlegna pressed his huge spiked cock against Luzurial’s anus and felt the heat there.

“Before that though, you can suffer more for me, whore!”

He tore into the Archangel’s ass roughly, with only her blood and his own drying semen as lubricant. Luzurial was an Archangel of the host, a pure embodiment of the power of the creator. She was virtue and compassion and the protector of the innocent. And now she was a demon’s fuckmeat, his anal slut. Her inhuman strength stretched even to her ass, but she was weakened and unable to keep Eparlegna out.

“I always said you were a tight ass, Luzurial! Can you feel my spike in you? Can you imagine standing before the creator and telling him what you let me do to you, you filthy whore? He burned Sodom for less than this!”

Eparlegna taunted the Archangel through gritted teeth, as it took all of his strength to force the incredibly painful anal rape. The experience would have been painful for him too, if not for the fact that it paled against millennia in Hell. Luzurial’s legs kicked widely as a cock head grown bigger than her fist punched up into her rectum. The demon flicked his inhumanly long tongue out, and let it grow until he could coil it down and round Luzurial’s tits. He wrapped the slimy organ into a figure of eight.

Luzurial shuddered at the pulsing organ as it slithered around her perfect breasts. Eparlegna took her mind off it immediately with a brutally hard thrust to force the rest of his massive shaft inside Luzurial. He pulled back on her hair and tugged her head back until she looked directly up, then turned the underside of the stone disc into a reflecting surface. Luzurial was faced with the full degraded horror of her body. Eparlegna squeezed his tongue around Luzurial’s breasts, and watched her grimace in the mirror.

Then he slowly withdrew his cock, closely watching Luzurial’s reflected eyes. When he slammed back into her ass, they clouded with new pain. She howled. There was no pause now, and Eparlegna raped her brutally. The chains through her hands shook in time to his violent anal penetrations, and he squeezed her tits purple with his prehensile tongue. It was incredible. The creator moved in mysterious ways indeed, if he designed his angels to be so pleasurable to rape. Eparlegna wondered if the omnipotent old goat was masturbating on the throne of heaven as he watched.

The thought brought Eparlegna to his climax. His cock shuddered inside Luzurial’s massively stuffed ass, and then spewed a thick stream of boiling semen into her. The pain was astounding, but Luzurial suffered very little physical damage due to her hardy physical form and internal strength. Once she was truly broken in spirit, it would be far easier to damage her. Even so, she came close to passing out as the searing agony filled her bowel. The demon’s volume was incredible, and his seed was forced up into her intestines while he pulled back on her hair. The realization that she would have to suffer the same again almost broke her spirit and reduced her to begging fro mercy.

Eparlegna slowly withdrew his tongue from Luzurial’s bruised breasts. The bruising would last but minutes before she healed, and then tugged his spike from her ass. Immediately the plugged up demon semen poured like a waterfall from her gaping abused anus. A cloud of steam rose up as the cold winds blew over the infernal spunk. Luzurial hung limply, trying to regain what strength she could. Her back had finally healed up, but her wing stumps remained red and raw. She would only regain her wings if she somehow defeated Eparlegna. As her ass gaped open, she realized she held no hope of it now. Her brown eyes dimmed, and wherever she gazed it seemed that a tormented shadow fell. She had used too much of her inner light and strength, and her soul was degenerating into shadow.

She didn’t struggle as Eparlegna slackened the chains on her wrists until she was on her knees before him. She made no protest as he pushed his drooling spiked cock into her mouth. Her gaze met his, and he felt a delicious chill deep in his soul. He spurted a little of his scalding jism into her mouth, then forced his shaft into her throat. Luzurial’s slender neck was visibly stretched out as Eparlegna forced himself down into it. Once again, Luzurial’s inhuman nature saved her from having her throat messily split open around the violating organ of the demon. He tangled strands of her golden hair around his clawed hands and hauled her face closer to his crotch.

“Look at you, on your knees in a pool of sperm sucking cock like a two-dollar hooker. No! I wouldn’t even pay two bucks for your ass, Luzurial! You’re not even worth that! You Archangelic slut! The Whore of Babylon is far less of a skank than you are, and she beds Popes!”

As Eparlegna taunted Luzurial, he screwed her face hard with his giant demon dick. She had retained her incredible beauty through all of her torments and staring down into her despairing eyes while he raped her tight throat was even better than nailing her ass. The Archangel was totally degraded and unresisting as he thrust again and again down into her throat. When she tried to close her eyes, he used his clawed nails to hook her eyelids open. He pumped harder when he was all of the way in, so each thrust tore down into her stomach; had she been a human woman, he would have filleted her with his dick. As an Archangel all she could do was endure the terrible agony of the violation.

Eparlegna was in two minds about whether to make her swallow, or whether to paint her with his semen. As he had already come over her breasts, he decided to force Luzurial to drink every scalding drop. He tightened his grip on her golden hair and sank his organ down into the depths of her throat a final time. The sudden explosion of heat in Luzurial’s belly cut through her almost-numbing despair. She could hear her weakened flesh sizzling within her. Eparlegna drank her pain like a fine wine, and ejaculated until her belly was swollen, packed with his seed. When he pulled out from her throat, she whined pitifully.

The Archangel’s stomach was being burned as fast as it healed and she hadn’t the strength to stop it. She hiccoughed, and vomited a curdled stream of Eparlegna’s seed down her body. He had succeeded in coming inside her and seeing it sprayed over her tits! Her breasts and stomach were scalded by the flow as she sought to expel the vile fluid from inside her. The physical taste and smell were truly repellent and she vomited harder as she experienced them. Eparlegna momentarily regretted not forcing some innocent woman before Luzurial, so the Archangel would be responsible for the little bitch’s suffering as she puked the boiling semen forth. As her stomach stopped spasming, the slack on the chains impaling her palms allowed Luzurial to collapse in the center of the magic circle.

In the reflective surface high above she saw her defiled wingless body, nude and spread eagled in the thick warm pool of Eparlegna’s vile seed. Her golden hair formed a sticky halo around her head as it floated on the surface of the corrupted mess. She was drenched in Eparlegna’s cum, covered from hair to feet in it. Only eye brown eyes, and her hooked hands which remained suspended a few inches above the pool, seemed untainted. Her wing stumps were red and raw and pressed painfully against the floor. Luzurial wept, sobbing tears drawn from her burned stomach. Her tears traced routes through the mess on her face.

High above, the sky had calmed. Luzurial weakly sensed that Eparlegna was drawing in his spread out power. The great walls surrounding his domain traveled inwards until only one square mile was surrounded. The destruction within the prior limits of the walls was revealed to those outside. Streets of destroyed buildings. Sexually mutilated corpses piled high or posed in sick mimicries of life. A few humans survived, driven insane by their suffering or their abuse at the hands of their own lust. They charged the army barriers, screaming curses in voices that seemed inhuman, and died in panicked gunfire. Creatures of lust or virtue no longer walked the streets, and if any true champion remained he or she was shielded even from Eparlegna’s power, and trapped in the center of the demon’s Earthly kingdom.

Inside Eparlegna’s pens the holy women huddled together, praying for salvation and for the intervention of their gods. Yet, Luzurial’s total defeat had brought doubt to many of them. Their faith was fading and so was the power of the magic circle. Amongst the captured policewomen, only 18 were left alive – which was exactly what Eparlegna had known it would be. True succubae were 100% demon, fallen angels who had once stood amongst the host. What the policewomen had become through their own evil and corrupt sin, and the power of Eparlegna, was a kind of human-succubus hybrid. They had raped and murdered their former comrades and rejoiced in their suffering and unwilling pleasure. They were engaged in a monumental orgy on the bodies when Eparlegna summoned them to him.

They used their new magicks to dress themselves in perverted leather parodies of their true uniforms. They were an honor guard for evil now, with their cunts and asses bared, and their breasts open to the cold winds. Their high-heeled boots clattered across the tiled floor as they approached their master, feeling his pull to where he wanted them to be. They formed a circle around from Luzurial. Three sets of six held hands as they kneeled around the defeated Archangel. They rested their foreheads to the floor. Words written in blood at the dawn of time seared into their minds, and they began to chant aloud.

The chains through Luzurial’s hands evaporated, and the pierced digits splashed into the cool shallow pool in which she lay. Her brown eyes were dark. Eparlegna sensed the remains of her power within her, guttering like a candle. Her scalded body was vibrantly red, unable to heal itself from the full extent of the torment. She no longer had the strength to prevent him fertilizing her womb, which she might before have managed by force of will. The potency of a demon’s seed was no match for an Archangel at full strength.

“If you have any last prayers Archangel, forget them. I am the creator of my own world now and none hear will hear your pleading!”

There was no response. He knelt between her legs and lashed his tongue against Luzurial’s virgin pussy. Luzurial’s fingers twitched as he turned his agile tongue to cleaning her of his semen. He licked her labia until they were puffy and swollen and flicked the very tip against Luzurial’s clit before delicately pleasuring it. He pushed gently inside, cleaning the folds without damaging her hymen. The chanting of his acolytes poured sexual energy into Luzurial’s body. Her nipples became hard, and her snatch slick with arousal. Soft moans bubbled through the semen still in her mouth and across her lips. After her agony and suffering, it seemed as if Luzurial had returned to heaven. Every time she felt the wonderful warmth building in her belly, Eparlegna paused and let it die. The Archangel’s whole body vibrated with the need for release.

Eparlegna moved up her body and turned his prehensile demon tongue to her breasts. He kissed away the remaining bruising and sucked on her nipples until the heat in her chest matched that in her belly. He stroked and caressed her in a way that seemed unimaginable with his giant clawed hands and cruel nature, until finally he sensed it was time. The wind was blowing fiercely outside of the circle, and the corrupted policewomen stayed in place only with the aid of their own demonically enhanced strength. “You are my whore. I am your master. Say it.”

“I… am your whore. You are my Master.”

The words trembled with emotion, a terrible mixture of lust and total, soul consuming, despair

“Your name is whore. You will never have another. You have never had another. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“What do you want whore?”

“Fuck me, Master! Give me release!”

Eparlegna gave his Archangel slut her desire. Her tore her hymen with consent and filled the Archangel’s virgin channel with his demon spike. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he brutally fucked her. She climaxed immediately, finding her voice to scream again. Her cunt gripped his shaft in pleasurable waves as he slammed his cock deeper and deeper into her. Luzurial’s cunt stretched like a balloon around his shaft, and pulled pinkly out a little each time he withdrew. He was much larger than her, and his chest was above her face as the semen pool splashed wildly around them. Luzurial’s hymen blood stained his dark shaft as he ploughed the screaming Archangel in the center

NEXT POST

Eparlegna gave his Archangel slut her desire. Her tore her hymen with consent and filled the Archangel’s virgin channel with his demon spike. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he brutally fucked her. She climaxed immediately, finding her voice to scream again. Her cunt gripped his shaft in pleasurable waves as he slammed his cock deeper and deeper into her. Luzurial’s cunt stretched like a balloon around his shaft, and pulled pinkly out a little each time he withdrew. He was much larger than her, and his chest was above her face as the semen pool splashed wildly around them. Luzurial’s hymen blood stained his dark shaft as he ploughed the screaming Archangel in the center of the magic circle.

Then he forced his cock into Luzurial’s womb, utterly destroying her cervix, and she was no longer experiencing pleasure. Eparlegna’s spiked cock was more like a weapon than a penis as he impaled the screaming Archangel. He gave her his full length over and over, hammering her womb like a punch bag. He wanted the experience to last forever, a defeated Archangel writhing beneath him, her face twisted into an expression of total agony. With a surge of power his dick thickened until Luzurial was stuffed to her very limits. Her hips dislocated around the massively invading shaft and her weakened flesh began to split. Each inward thrust showed through her belly as he pounded deeply into her womb. The chanting around the circle reached its peak,

“Now, whore! Take my seed!”

Eparlegna ejaculated into Luzurial’s womb. Instead of burning and boiling, it spread around to coat the insides, and flowed into her fallopian tubes. Eparlegna felt part of his spirit already drawn inside Luzurial as he filled her to bursting point. An ovum was drawn into the center, and fertilized. Eparlegna knelt back with a noise like a gunshot as his cock split away from him and remained buried inside Luzurial. She moved her hands to her sticky belly as she felt the new life begin inside her. Her stomach was already swollen with Eparlegna’s semen, the amniotic fluid of his new body.

“Please … creator … have mercy … if not on me, on humanity. Do not let this creature be spawned of my body and his.”

There was no reply. Luzurial’s belly swelled quickly while Eparlegna’s abandoned form rotted into a putrescent mess before turning to dust as he grew anew within Luzurial. She felt as if she could not take any more pain and still he grew. Luzurial felt her womb burst as her belly swelled far past nine months of pregnancy. The skin of her stomach was dark purple-red and started to split. Luzurial’s eyes rolled back into her head as Eparlegna’s new body burst fully-grown from her stomach. She was messily eviscerated, with the acolytes splashed even at distance. Eparlegna stepped out onto the stone floor at the center of a circle of gore.

He looked human; totally, utterly, human. A good-looking black man in his late twenties, well built, muscular and endowed. Luzurial keened quietly on the floor. She was gutted from her breasts to her cunt, and fresh steam rose from the mess. Eparlegna laughed then, and in seconds drained all of the power from the magic circle. He was born of an Archangel and a formerly angelic demon, and the holy women were dead before they knew it. Reduced to dust just like his own former body when he had no further use for it. Another step, and he wore a finely tailored suit and a jaunty hat with no trace of mess upon him.

Luzurial felt a coldness spreading up her legs. A molecule thin layer of pure evil spread up the long muscular limbs, across her gutted torso and continued until she was totally mummified in it. She was unable to move, but she could see and hear and smell and feel. Oh, could she feel. She looked like a twisted sculpture of a gutted woman made from some oily black metal. Eparlegna thought it a fitting tribute to his ‘mother,’ in the same way as he kept the head of his previous body’s human mother.

Around the circle his eighteen acolytes sat back on their heels, legs slightly apart. Eparlegna mentally nudged them into position where he needed to, and commanded them to look to the sky. He laughed again as serrated impaling spears burst through the ground and spitted all eighteen from cunt to mouth and bore them high into the air. Crossbars spread out and prevented them sliding down. Their agonized bodies writhed on the spears as blood flowed heavily down the shafts. Some of them clutched at their cunts, trying to save themselves from the beautiful act of betrayal. He would have all the slaves he wanted in his new kingdom on Earth, and the seeing the women impaled in their police-style uniforms was arousing entertainment.

He unzipped his fly and drew out his new penis. He stroked it to hardness as he looked down into Luzurial’s now eternally open eyes. He moved his hand faster and faster, while around him the impaled bitches suffered and wriggled on their spears. It didn’t take long before Eparlegna grunted and came. He fired strands of sperm across Luzurial’s statue-like face.

He withdrew his power from the eighteen women’s bodies and fed them images of their writhing as they died. Their spirits descended to hell, where they found that their brief servitude to the demon counted for nothing. Another flick of his wrist, and Luzurial’s flaming sword leapt into his hand and molded itself into an ordinary pen. He slipped it into his suit jacket. Cracking his knuckles together, he set out to spread his power across the world.

And as for what happened next? A human champion rose against him, and bested him and all of his new followers. You’ve played computer games, so you know how it works. Los Angeles was rebuilt and humanity went forth with new awareness and protection against - but also new dealings with - the forces of Hell. A park was laid out where Eparlegna had taken his new form. Nobody ever thought long about the strange statue in the center. Luzurial stayed there as the stars grew dim and faded and the Earth became a ball of fire, and then finally the Day of Judgement. Every single second hurt like eternity.