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He is beautiful. The most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
Pale skin, pale blue eyes, long white hair reaching to his waist, and long silver fur matching his hair. He even tastes good—sweet—the scent of his blood—or whatever angels have flowing beneath their skin—just out of my reach.
He has an impossibly attractive face, even with his current scowl. I’m sure he doesn’t like being restrained as he is, but I’d be stupid to allow him freedom, even within this small room. So I’ve knotted his body firmly with red silk rope. It’s beautiful against his pale skin—it’s simply too enchanting.
Mostly, I want to groom those gigantic white wings that are easily larger than my body. My own black wings—resembling those of a bat—do not compare to these. His are covered in feathers and currently firmly restrained, lashed to the bed the way I was trained.
They are incredibly strong. I learned that the hard way, after he struck me in the face, trying to protect himself from me. But I’ve already poisoned him—at least, given him the first bite—the venom seeping into the wound in his leg is looking promising. And it’s weakened him considerably. Enough for me to finish binding him, restraining him as I like.
“Can you feel in your wings?” Mine are covered by skin, and much smaller and more efficient than his—although he is, of course, a much larger creature than I am to begin with. Perhaps his wings need to be larger and stronger to carry his weight. I’ve never thought much about my own form—until I saw his and looked upon it with envy.
And desire. I want him. That venom should be working soon.
He has been avoiding my eyes for a while now—not allowing that perfect pale blue gaze to meet mine, which is currently a golden one, glowing with desire. I know he will not be able to resist me soon, however, angel or no. I’ve never done this with an angel before—I think it may be forbidden—but I don’t care. I may be punished later, but I find him enticing in a way I cannot quite describe.
I am waiting to touch him, just for now. I am waiting for him to humble himself and beg for my touch—beg me for release—just as so many others have done before him.
He didn’t recognize me as a demon when I set my trap.
An angel and a demon—we should repel one another—but it was the opposite, for me at least. However, I have the feeling he felt the same attraction when he first came across me—begging him for help in my Ribika form. He couldn’t resist me—he was drawn to me as much as I was drawn to him.
I feel it in the core of my being, as well as in other more obvious places. He could see it, too, since I've already divested myself of irksome clothing if he would look. And he will look. Soon.
I spread my wings and tuck them neatly behind me, leaning against the wall while I watch him struggle. He is persistent, if not very smart.
“Haven't you realized your bonds only get tighter the more you struggle?” I ask, keeping my voice soft and gentle. “It’s almost magical—this method of tying rope. Isn’t it painful?”
I hear a decidedly unangelic growl from him in the corner, and finally, he lifts his face. He is perfect. A sculpted face—like Ribika designed him herself—perfectly symmetric, a pointed chin, angled cheekbones, an elegant nose—and those piercing blue eyes.
“Oh, scary!” I say though I am slightly perturbed that he won’t talk to me. I’d like to have a conversation with him—first. This is how I enjoy my prey, after all. If he won’t speak to me, how can I convince him to submit his body to me? Perhaps he needs additional venom? He is a rather large prey—the largest I have captured so far. Plus, I would very much like to taste him again.
I approach him from my space against the wall. He glares up at me—not very submissive. Does my venom not work on angels? I don’t know—but I don’t really care. I can make him submit in other ways. I smile softly—the same smile I used when he first offered me his assistance. I didn’t really need his assistance—well, I did—but I needed his body, to feed on his sexual energy, which is what sustains me.
He is nearly burning with it—that sexual energy—it boils underneath the skin I am currently running my fingers across. I had heard angels were sexless creatures, not to be played with or even touched by the likes of me. I have been warned time and time again—but I couldn’t resist this specimen. My master must have been mistaken. He’s never met this angel.
“Do you have a name?” I ask, my voice soft and gentle, just like the touch of my fingers, which are tracing his massive chest. I run my fingers between the rope and his skin, and it’s left a pale pink abrasion from his struggle. I let my fingers skate along his chest to his throat, and I draw my claws—sharp, black, dangerous—and they stand out gorgeously against his skin.
I hear a short breath—a gasp, almost—at my touch. It’s working. The venom is working. I take his chin in my hands and look into his face.
“What is your name? Perhaps if you tell me I won’t bite you again,” I whisper.
“Impure.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask. I heard what he said, but I want to keep him talking. I want to hear that voice.
“You are. Evil and impure.” The words are nearly spit at me. Perhaps it isn’t working quite as well as I’d like—just yet. He is a large creature, after all. And he tastes so good—perhaps this time just a little from his neck...
I lower my face against his throat, sticking my tongue out and licking the place I plan to bite several times.
“Get off me!” He protests violently.
What a lovely sound, I think, brushing his hair away from his throat and neck, running my claws through it. He smells so good—warm, alive, powerful—and good. He smells so clean and pure—and surprisingly floral.
I wish I could see his face when I bite, but I cannot. So I commit and simply sink my fangs into his throat, drawing a small, gasping cry from him. His blood—or whatever it is that flows within him—drips on my tongue—and it tastes sweet. It’s filling—and wonderful—and makes me dizzy with desire.
Venom releases from my fangs and he groans—soon he will be making less pained sounds—and even this sound is less pained than the last noise I pulled from him. I let his blood drip into my mouth, but it’s thick compared to Ribika—and I feel a sweet euphoria overcoming my body. He is baring fangs—and when I pull away, I hear another very unangelic growl come from his body.
It almost sounds like a purr. What an arousing sound! Do angels purr? No, wait—does this angel purr?
“What have you done to me?” His voice, formerly harsh and laced with fury, softens now, enchanting to my ears—almost like a spell. It has an instant effect on my body, which responds by sending blood into my lower region.
“You are so beautiful,” I murmur, still pressing my nose against his neck, basking in his strong and powerful scent. It’s changing, too—getting sweeter, a floral note like jasmine or honeysuckle perhaps, added to its sticky sweetness. It’s captivating enough to make me salivate. Everything about this creature is enchanting—it’s like he was designed to be attractive to me.
A chill runs down my spine and fluffs out my fur—yes, even a demon like me has fur covering my tail and my ears—it’s white tipped with caramel—part of my innocent disguise, actually, which works to my benefit when I attract my prey. It doesn’t exactly match the black bat-like wings I have, but I can hide them easily. They aren’t currently hidden, however—this angel knows what he’s dealing with now, and I don’t want to make the effort. I think if my wings were covered in feathers like his are, I’d have even better success at attracting victims, luring them in, and asking for help.
Honestly, he is the largest prey I’ve been able to attract so far. I didn’t know angels were so large—perhaps he is unusual or a particular type of angel. But I’m getting awfully excited—and so is he, it appears. I think I should help him out in that respect. I like it when my prey enjoys himself—it brings me even more pleasure.
I wonder if he is ready for me to loosen his restraints. He isn’t struggling quite so much, and his breathing has changed—becoming more uneven and rough. I can feel his pulse, beating in time with my own—that’s an effect of the venom in his body. It phases the rhythm of his body to sync with mine.
“Relax, now,” I whisper. “I’m not going to hurt you. That isn’t what I do.”
Not at all. I don’t hurt or damage my prey, or devour them in a physical sense, like other demons. But I do ruin them—wreck them—sexually. I want to see this pure one come completely undone beneath my fingers. I’ve heard angels can’t be broken in this way. But if that's the case, why do they have the same equipment I do? And why does he smell like this—tempting, delicious, enticing? I lick my lips, running my fingers beneath the silk rope, loosening it a little.
“What have you done to me?” Those blue eyes blink at me slowly. “What is this? What did you inject?”
“Are you feeling it? It should make you more comfortable and a little more pliable,” I whisper. “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself. I’m Konoe. As you’ve gathered, I’m a demon, and my job is to devour pleasure—your pleasure. What’s your name?”
“Rai.”
Ah. His name fits him perfectly—and the venom is indeed starting to kick in if he’s compelled to tell me his name. He blinks again slowly, those long lashes coming down again softly, confusion settling in his eyes.
“You are an enchanting creature, Rai,” I murmur, brushing his eyelashes softly with my lips. “Are all angels as beautiful as you? I’ve never met one before.”
“This contact—what you are doing to me—this is forbidden.”
“So I’ve heard,” I reply. “But don’t you feel drawn to me? Even a little bit? It certainly looks like you do. I had heard angels don’t have this… ability, and I was told to stay away from your kind. But you—your scent—it is different from what I expected. I have to try just a small taste.”
I lick his throat again, then lower my lips down to his chest, and I stimulate one of his nipples with my tongue. It responds immediately to my touch, stiffening to its highest point when I nip it carefully with my teeth. I am careful not to injure my prey… too much. I hear a soft sigh from those luscious lips above me, and it tickles my ears. His voice is captivating, and I want to hear more, so I move to his other nipple and nip it as well, glancing up at his face.
He is very pale—blood doesn’t seem to color him—though I can feel the excitement filling me and blood rushing to my cheeks and ears. I blush easily—and I’m sure he notices my ears are turning pink. He is staring at my ears, in fact. It makes me look surprisingly innocent and inexperienced.
“So… do you do this sort of… activity… where you come from?” I ask with a soft voice, raising my face to his again. His body has become quite still now. I stroke his chest and his sides, enjoying his sculpted muscles.
“What sort of activity?”
“This sort of touching,” I clarify, lowering myself to his waist. I nuzzle his navel with my nose and lips—and he smells amazing. I feel almost high—like I have injected myself with my own venom—it’s such a strange sensation. I dip my tongue into his belly button, watching him try to pull his abdomen away from my touch, but he is unable to move very far. I move my tongue a little lower and groom the tuft of soft silver fur just below his belly in long, soft strokes.
“Gah—what are you t-touching?” he stammers—and it’s so sweet and adorable—and I wonder, might I be the first to touch him here? The thought fills me with pleasure and urgency—and the fierce need to touch him more. But I want to savor him.
“I’m simply preparing you,” I say. “This is how I prepare my captured prey. You should relax and enjoy it. It would please me mightily.”
He does relax a little, but I lower my mouth a little more and start teasing him—perhaps a little cruelly. He is still bound by that red rope, of course—and I should loosen his restraints at least a little—but he is so beautiful like this, his arms secured behind him, his wings helpless and immobile, unable to move or defend himself—this powerful creature at my mercy. I think I will tease him just a little first.
I plant kisses along his hip bones—smooth, white, and virginal skin—and I trail my tongue after each kiss as I watch his face, which is watching me with a mix of fear and desire. Which emotion will win? I know desire will, eventually since that is my job—and it seems to be overcoming faster than he would like, though he is fighting it desperately.
Light kisses and longer grooming licks against his hips, and then lower still, till I reach his erect member—which I admire for a moment. He is very large—and not just because his stature is so much bigger than my own—and he would probably feel really nice inside my body.
However, I think that isn’t what I want to do with this fellow. No, I think I will enter him. There is a single, large drop of transparent fluid on the tip, which I kiss away—a light, teasing kiss—and that alone draws a sigh of pleasure from him. Then, I carefully lick just the tip, around the rim, light grooming licks—and this also draws some strange, sexy sounds from the giant beneath me. It’s incredibly arousing.
I’m glad I’m naked, because I’m pretty hot at this point, too. Covering my fangs with my lips, I carefully draw what I can of that massive cock into my mouth and use my hands—which I’ve covered in some warmed lube that I happen to have handy for just such occasions—on the base for control. For a few strokes, I pull him in and out of my mouth, lightly, teasing, watching his face, and I realize he is quite sensitive on the front of his shaft—more sensitive than the tip, it seems. So I pay special attention to that area with my tongue when I start moving my head. I also allow him to move his hips if he likes, and his hips cant forward and I hear an awfully satisfying purr.
I’m very excited to hear that wet purr, and I taste more pre-cum dripping from the tip. He is definitely swelling inside my mouth—getting almost uncomfortably large—and I’m not ready for him to release just yet—so I slow down. Then, using a little more lube, I reach below his shaft and gently stroke just below his balls, then behind them, approaching his entrance. To my surprise, he actually moans in delight.
It’s a wonderful noise, and it makes me purr, which adds to the vibration in my mouth and body, and he swells even more. I slow down my movements, add more lube to my fingers, and paint over the top of his entrance, just lightly.
As I expected, that gorgeous, pure white tail immediately fluffs out and comes down to protect himself. I’m sure he’s nervous.
I pull him out of my mouth, though I continue stroking with my hand firmly, and I keep my eye on him. He is lying slightly on his side, and I look up at his face. His face is a mix of desire and fear—and he glares down at me.
“What do you plan to do?” He sounds almost angry, which amuses me greatly. I can't help returning a soft, sexy smile.
“Just relax your body. I promise—I will not hurt you. This is my area of expertise. Have I hurt you yet?” I run my finger across the outside of his hole again, and he shivers this time—his entire large body is at my mercy. His body knows I will make him feel good. And that scent is released again, almost overpowering me with desire. I can hardly contain my joy.
He closes his eyes for a moment—with resignation, perhaps—there’s nothing he can do to protect himself anyway. I will do what I want to him, as I like—and what I want is to push inside of him, ever so slowly and gently, careful to make sure not to hurt him. I only want to overwhelm him with pleasure, make his pure, gigantic, angelic body drip with it.
Despite his large size and my small fingers, that ring of muscle is very snug. Even if he does have some sexual experience, certainly, he has never been used this way. I can tell when I wiggle my finger inside of his body. However, just past that inner ring, he opens up slightly and sighs again—a purring sigh, one of indulgence rather than pain. The base of his tail seems to relax, too, that beautiful fur remaining fluffy and erect.
After exploring his tender inner walls for a little while, I pull out, add more lube, and push back inside, repeating the process with similar results—and am rewarded with another surprised gasp of indulgence. I also put my mouth back on his dick, which is still erect and dripping with excitement.
I’m now quite pleased with his willingness to participate. I’d love to loosen his restraints a little—but I wonder if he will be compliant enough for me or not. I look at the bite on his thigh—the first place I injected my venom. Only my fang marks are left there—two tiny pierced holes. I’m tempted to bite him again—mostly because I want to taste his blood—whatever is running through him didn’t taste like blood to me—it was sweet and delicious. And I want more.
I move my mouth from his member, though I keep stroking him, and I push a second lubricated finger inside him. I nose that bite mark again, smelling it gently, trying to see if I can catch a whiff of his blood. I can’t, so instead, I lick the inside of his thigh several times, preparing to sink in my fangs again.
Just before I do, however, I scissor my fingers apart inside of his body, and he moans loudly—helplessly—pleasurably—and his body stiffens in surprise when he is bitten, as though the bite also gives him pleasure. It probably does, given its location and the amount of blood that is currently pooling in this area.
I’m working hard to loosen him up, and I release a little more venom inside his body, I glance up at his face and see—of all things—a very slight pink blush dusting his cheeks, his nose, and his chest.
I smile softly, pleased.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“N-no…” he murmurs softly.
“I promised it wouldn’t. Not even the bite hurts, does it?”
“Not at all. B-but…” his voice trails off into a sigh when I press a third finger inside him and lower my mouth against his dick once more, looking up at his face.
When I pull him out of my mouth I ask sweetly, “But what?”
“But this is wrong—I shouldn’t be doing this—I shouldn’t be doing this with you.”
“No,” I agree. “You shouldn’t. That is why I didn’t give you a choice.” I continue stroking his insides—so soft, so warm, so pure, and so inviting. I won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I want to be inside him soon. I want to take him—I want to connect with him.
“Listen,” I whisper. “I want to be inside you. I also want to loosen your restraints. You aren’t going to try anything, are you? You’ll allow this, won’t you? You’ll behave for me, won’t you? You’re going to be good?”
“Yes-sss…” His reply ends in a hiss when I stroke him how he likes and stretch him open at the same time. I see his toes curling against the bed.
I pull my fingers out of him slowly and move up to the rope, sliding my fingers under the knots. They are impossibly tight from his earlier struggles. I don’t want to release his arms or his wings—he could hurt me with his claws or the strength of his wings. But I loosen many of the other knots carefully, following the rope burns on his skin with my tongue.
He has a gorgeous body—muscular, lean, perfect—his skin is so pale it’s nearly white—except now, he’s dusted with a pale pink blush—even the cheeks of his ass are slightly pink. It’s adorable.
I push him onto his stomach, keeping his wrists bound tightly in front of him and his wings restrained—flat on the bed, lashed tightly to the bed frame like I was shown and how I was restrained many, many times by my own master for training. I shiver when I think back on those times and what was done to me when I was restrained in this way—my legs were also restrained—my ankles bound and pulled apart and my wrists pulled over my head—so my master had full access to my body. He did all sorts of unspeakable things to me—and he may do so again once he finds out what I have done. I push the thought from my mind for now. I have more important things at hand.
The angel Rai seems much more comfortable now, and he is still very aroused—he has enjoyed my gentle touch, it seems, and enjoys it when I stroke his wings. Those silvery-white feathers are so very soft. They shiver slightly when I run my fingers across them.
“Can you feel in these feathers?” I ask.
“Not so much in the feathers themselves,” he answers, “but when you move them, I can feel that.”
“Are you comfortable now?” I ask. This is not something I usually ask my prey, but for some reason, I am compelled to ask him. I care about this prey—this one is special. I notice his scent is even stronger now.
He nods his head lightly, and I pull back his hips, encouraging him to lift himself up to his knees. I press myself against his entrance—using plenty of lube since again, I don’t wish to hurt him—my desire is to consume his pleasure, you see—and I start to advance inside his body.
The moment I press inside him, I am overcome with strange emotions. It’s similar to when I tasted his blood—I get a feeling of his essence—his goodness, his purity, his power and strength, his loyalty—but also something else is present, too: his desire. For me and my body. He wants this, which comes as a complete surprise to me. He is not resisting this.
It does nothing but increase my desire, and I start to sweat, and his ears twitch slightly. I hear him purring, loud and wet, and he sighs when I am fully inside of him, my thighs touching his ass, my hands gripping his hips. He feels so good, so warm—like he is surrounding me, engulfing me. I bury my nose in that silver hair, leaning forward over him—and I also feel his soft feathers against my stomach and chest.
I rock my hips forward slightly, testing his reaction, and he seems fine, purring and sighing softly. So I continue my movements and increase my pace, pulling out a little more each time, and pushing myself back in, tracking the reactions from the large body beneath me, angling myself a little differently each time, looking for something specific.
Then—I find it, while I am still moving fairly slowly—when I thrust up at a particular angle—Rai moans rather loudly and uncharacteristically, unable to contain himself. I stop for a moment—allowing him to catch his breath—and I hear him say a few words.
“What was hat?”
I repeat the movement and he moans again. I smile, and I murmur into his ear.
“That is what I have been searching for. Just relax your body and enjoy the sensation. This is what I do.”
I feel him coming apart—falling to pieces—little by little, with each thrust. I start slowly, working up to faster thrusts, and his hips fall toward the bed, until he is completely flat, his foot hanging off the side helplessly. His moans change into gasping sighs and desperate cries, and I—I am no better.
I am so close—and I reach around his hips with one hand and grab his dick, which is hard and dripping—and stroke firmly, paying close attention to that sensitive spot on his shaft. With my other hand, I grab the base of his tail, and I pull up firmly, digging my hands into the long, lush white fur, which is fully bristled.
I lower myself against his back and bite the tip of his ear before invading the inner depths with my tongue, allowing myself to sigh and gasp and purr directly into it—allowing him to hear my voice—so he is taken from the front, from behind, from the inside and outside. He is all mine—this majestic creature—this creature intended for goodness—is all mine, falling apart to my touch.
He clenches around my dick, and his body stiffens, and he groans—almost painfully—and then cries out when he comes—shooting thick pearly cum into my hand. I allow myself to come right after he does—enjoying my own pleasure after he climaxes—and he pulses around me, my pleasure spilling into his body, my body stiffening, my claws drawing and my fangs baring and my wings spreading reflexively.
This climax was like nothing I have experienced before—and the aftereffects are amazing. I relax and feel a hum in my body—a voiceless song—it calls out from my heart—and I can feel something skate along my skin.
When I pull out of the angel, my skin is still vibrating with the song—and I don’t know what the sound is! What—is this? A melody? It's so mysterious, but I think I am singing to the angel—to Rai. It sounds like a song of... dedication?
I lie back, exhausted on the bed, and I close my eyes for a moment, basking in pleasure and the music.
Suddenly, a gush of wind brushes my cheeks, and huge white wings flutter over me. Rai is loose—he is free from his restraints—his bonds are broken—and my song is still going on and on—and I cannot stop the singing.
He is pinning me down on the bed now, hovering over my much smaller body—and I am so exhausted from my pleasure (and from consuming his), almost drunk with it—I cannot move or fight him off. I find I don’t even want to.
He lowers his mouth to mine and takes my lips roughly—almost like he owns me. I feel him nipping my lower lip, biting me.
Isn’t he exhausted, too? I open my eyes fully and find pale blue eyes staring back at me, and a soft, sexy smile on his face. What is he doing?
The restraints from his wrists are gone, too—did I not tie him tightly enough? How could he have broken the bonds?
“You are singing,” Rai whispers against my mouth. “True demons do not have that gift.”
“It has never happened before,” I say honestly.
“It is a heavenly gift—a sign that you have been chosen.”
“Chosen?” I ask. “Chosen for what?”
“Chosen for me. You have a new master, little one.” He strokes my cheek gently. “You work for me, now.”
I feel a soft, prickling sensation on my wings—as he runs his hands across them—and then a slight burning sensation—like my wings are being singed by flame. What is this?
“What are you doing?” I ask. “Stop—stop this!"
“I am saving you,” Rai whispers, continuing to touch my wings. In fact, he flips my body over roughly, brushing my wings from my shoulder blades to the tips. I flap desperately to try to escape—it's painful—and I realize that they sound different. They sound… soft. What is happening to me?
I reach out my fingers, and stretch out my wings to touch the tips—and I see my wings are covered in pure white feathers. What is this?
“You work for me now.” Rai chuckles softly. “And as fun as that was, that’s the last time that will happen for a while. At least… you’ve shown me what to do.”
I can barely move, but my body is held down, and his hands gently stroke my ass—massaging me—stroking my tail, and then dangerously spreading my cheeks. My eyes widen in fear and in sudden comprehension.
“What—what is this? What are you doing?”
“I’m claiming you—as my servant. You will submit,” Rai murmurs.
I find I cannot move a muscle when he says those words. I cannot move my body. But didn't he just come? How can he do this again so soon?
“I think you will find me a kind master, as long as you obey.” I feel his fingers stroking me gently. Oh gods, does he know about the lube? Please—don’t forget!
“Rai… please…” I beg.
“You didn’t give me a choice, after all,” Rai points out gently. “However, you didn’t hurt me, so I won’t hurt you, either—at least, not intentionally. There is, however, our difference in stature. And… the fact I haven’t had a servant such as you before. So I apologize if there is a slight learning curve…”
“Ah—wait—the lube! Don't forget to use it!” I plead, filled with fright.
“The what?” Rai asks, only slightly concerned, and I feel something warm licking me, right where my thighs and ass meet.
I squeeze my eyes shut and realize that this is why I was forbidden to have contact with angels. And my upcoming punishment is probably well-deserved. However, I realize my new master is pure and good and is much more kind-hearted than my last one. I can probably learn to work with him...