Saphrielles fall, p.1
Saphrielle's Fall, page 1
$CHAPTER ONE
My body relaxed against the throne and the gentle suckling of wet lips around my cock peppered the air. Not an echo, but a feeble smattering of sound in the large hall. It was a sound I enjoyed. Lewd. Base.
I tangled my hands through the dark, coarse hair of the demon servicing me. She was lovely and enthusiastic, worshipping me with licks and kisses that should have sent me over the top. I wanted to spill for her, and yet we both knew I wouldn’t. Each tendril of pleasure died out before it dug too deep.
My length was half-mast at best. Still glorious, obviously, but barely hard enough to stand on its own. I didn’t apologize to her for this, even if I could feel her frustration. She took this as her own failing, and though it wasn’t, I had to let her believe it. That was the entire point, after all. She wanted something from me, and she couldn’t have it. It was a lesson she had to learn. Deals with a god were hard met. Favors not so easily earned.
The far double-doors of my receiving hall opened; a massive creak followed by the heavy fall of determined hooves on white marble that I recognized as Leandros without even opening my eyes. Even if I wasn’t in the throes of bliss, his intrusion bothered me, and I growled when the lovely demon at my lap freed my cock from her mouth with an audible pop.
Untangling my hand from the thick hair, I gave Leandros a look, aware that the boon-seeking demon servicing me stared up with uncomfortable silence. She didn’t know what to do, and her slender tongue snaked lazily around my length in a manner that seemed much like waving a white flag of surrender. Damn, she was lovely. In my prime I would’ve covered her face with my seed before turning her around and riding her for as long as she could stand it.
That was no longer the world we lived in, however. I nudged her with my knee, giving her no more than a stern flicker of my attention to send her running away, offering Leandros a wide berth in her retreat.
Once reaching my throne, he inclined his head. “My lord.”
“You know better. I have favors to handle.”
Leandros lifted a judgmental brow my way. Or rather, in the direction of my lap. I fixed my pants and straightened.
“What is it,” I barked.
“Another denied favor, I see,” he mused. Though his current title was keeper of my primary estate—the Northern Palace—he’d been my main companion for eons, and he easily shrugged off my tone.
He understood the monotony of my duties. I hated listening to the insufferable pleas of the denizens of Hell, but if not for formalities, we would be beasts.
As ruler, I received endless requests and bargains, and as a god, I gained nothing of it. Once upon a time, I did my job out of graciousness or responsibility, whichever. Back then I needed nothing of it. Though I was now still a god and still a ruler, everything else had changed.
Doling out favors and bettering the lives of those below me no longer satisfied me in any discernable way. My boredom birthed a challenge to any female willing to attempt it: Please me to completion and any favor would be granted.
None had succeeded to date.
It wasn’t something I was proud of. I could lie and blame a dozen parts of the circumstance for my stubborn body. My throne, an opulent mass of gold-veined pale marble that had been with me since I first took over the Underworld, was cold and hard. It was ornamental, after all. An imposing and unmoving thing to represent my own immovability. It was not designed for comfort. This was the truth, and yet in the past I’d fucked a fair number of females while sitting in it and never had a problem. I was a god. I didn’t require a cushion. I sighed inwardly. “Go on, then.”
Leandros’s mouth quirked to one side in the barest tug of lips. I suppose it passed for a smile from him. Since I hadn’t seen him smile in centuries, the sight made me lean forward.
“An angel has been found,” he announced.
I stood. “Where?”
“The wailing ones have it.”
“For what purpose? Do they plan to get their jollies by floating through the body?” I scoffed. “A waste. They have it, but who found it first?”
“Ekrell.”
Ekrell. A tendril of familiarity swept through me at the name. Within a moment, her face entered my thoughts, primarily the massive black orbs of her eyes. I shook away the memory of obsessive devotion that filled those dark pools. “Why didn’t she come directly to me?”
Leandros gave a shrug. “Perhaps due to your penchant for poorly receiving ill news. I believe you took her tail last time. Stomped it off with your boot.”
“I don’t wear boots,” I corrected. But yes, I did take her tail. Her mistakes had led to my pet angel dying a gruesome death. “I told her not to speak to me until she’d found a new treasure to replace the one she broke. Now that she has, she could have come.”
“And admitted to losing that very treasure?”
“I assume the wailing ones have enthralled some hapless lesser demons. Ekrell isn’t a warrior. I can’t fault her the limitations, and I’m not unreasonable.”
“She reports at least a half-dozen demons are under thrall.” Leandros rolled his shoulders, appearing eager for a fight. “It’s been nearly a millennium since the last angel fell.”
“I’ll go retrieve my property. Find Ekrell and tell her to wait for me at the palace.”
“You wouldn’t like company?”
His interest amused me. “No. As fun as it would be to watch you threaten the miserable spirits and whatever slack-jawed dogs they’ve hypnotized, it won’t be necessary. I’ll need you back home.” A thought occurred to me. “And find something for Ekrell to wear, would you?”
“Of course.” Leandros bowed his head. “Then… should I ready a cell? For the angel?”
“Ready it?” I chuckled a bit at that. “You want to clean up for a prisoner? Be my guest.”
I exited the room through the private door behind the throne, leaving Leandros to his business. If he wanted to dust, I wouldn’t forbid it, but angels were lower than humans in Hell. They didn’t require special treatment, only a scrap of room to exist until their inevitable demise.
###
The wailing ones inhabited a section of Hell known as the bloody grotto, some distance from the building where official business was conducted. Most of the inhabitants would have to walk that distance, taking in the scenery of never-ending bleak plains of gray dirt and sickly brambles, but I had only to think of my destination in order to arrive there within a blink. Perk of being the boss.
Upon arriving, I narrowed my gaze at the assortment of glassy-eyed petty demons standing guard at the entry of the grotto. The wailing ones hovered beyond them, gauzy and ghost-like.
I marched forward, summoning my dagger, a monstrous black fang torn from the mouth of Tartarus, to materialize in my hand.
“Bow.” Every wispy form hastily knelt at my command. After a moment, their heads lifted, and I then pointed the gruesome fang at their current leader. “You know why I’m here. Don’t waste my time.”
The ghostly being hesitated and looked around. The wary eyes of his followers meant to challenge him. The wailing ones were not permanent residents. They were men and women who were slated to either become demons in time or fade away into non-existence. Since their assortment changed regularly, it wasn’t unusual for them to be insubordinate—at least the newer ones.
I stepped closer, and the enslaved demons scampered off, cleared of the mind control thanks to my presence. The wailing ones watched their hostages flee but remained fixed.
“We hoped to have our own time... we never get a chance—” the leader stammered.
My grip tightened around the black fang and a growl accompanied my words. “You don’t deserve any time with it. Bring it to me now or pay for your insolence.”
There was another moment of hesitation—more than I was of a mind to tolerate today—and it cost the leader.
I flicked my fingertips, the action taking control of the air around him, dragging the wispy form to cower directly before me. With my free hand, I punched forward into the empty space between us, creating a rift between the dimensions from where I hauled forth a struggling, naked human body, the physical counterpart to the wailing one before me.
The crowd gasped and pleaded now, but I didn’t make empty threats. They were holding my rightful property captive, and I meant for them to pay dearly for their insolence.
The black fang tore into the navel of the man and ripped upwards, drawing an ear-splitting scream from his throat. His intestines poured from the rend, pouring dark blood and foul bile splashing to the barren ground. I paused when the tip reached under his rib cage. There, with the blade pointing up, I jerked my hand and cut through bone and cartilage, splitting him wide open. His desperate howls mixed with the crunch of bone and sputtering of life fluids into a macabre symphony that silenced the group. The knife caught in the underneath of his chin in the following stroke, and I held him there, staring into his panic-stricken eyes as the spark of existence left him. The air became heavy with the stench of life rotting away.
I let the torn corpse fall to the ground, its heavy thud the only sound for miles. Then a gentle scrape as I stepped back, clicking my tongue at the sight of blood shining on my previously impeccable black leather wingtips.
“You are not invincible. Not from me,” I reminded them.
The demonstration worked. Within moments, the remaining souls brought forward the angel, using their combined telekinetic strength to float it forward like an
I wiped my hand and blade on a handkerchief before sending the dagger back into the pocket dimension that protected it and tossing the bloodied cloth away. Arms outstretched; I welcomed my prize. Once the angel was in my possession, the wailing ones drifted back, offering us space.
When I saw what lay wrapped in the heavenly robe, a smile broke through my defenses. Pleased would be an understatement to my mood now. Tangled silken curls of garnet striped with gold hid the angel’s face, but I saw enough. She was beautiful, as were all angels, but the last few angels to fall were male, and though their bodies were perfect and entertaining, they were not suited to my complete desires.
“Send a tribute, or I return and cull the lot of you.” I turned and walked away, cradling my glorious treasure. Thoughts churned in my head, replacing my previous plans. I steadied the body with one arm while I bared my teeth to slice through the flesh of my palm. Blood oozed and I spoke through the deep red stream. “Leandros. Forget the cell. Dust the chamber beside mine.”
“The bridal suite?” Leandros’s voice was filled with questioning.
“Yes.”
Though the fall of an angel wasn’t a frequent occurrence, it had happened enough times that I had a fair understanding of things as they would unfold. Firstly, the angel would sleep through the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, giving me plenty of time to assess the situation.
Normally there would be nothing to this step. Normally the angel would be tossed into a cell beneath my residence until they woke, if they were lucky. If not, the torture would begin immediately.
This one, however, would be treated differently. She would be mine. Truly, in a way I’d never expected or wanted of the rest.
###
“Master!”
I’d arrived at my northern palace and walked through the hallway leading to my chambers. Ekrell was there already, her eyes glittering with unmasked devotion. While some gods got off on worship and would cherish such attention, I’d always found Ekrell to be unsettling. She was loyal to the level of obsession, and yet there was something else in her. Something I didn’t trust, even though I had no reason to doubt her.
“Ekrell. Keep up.” I headed up the stairs, passing her. She turned and followed, her long tail swishing beneath the deep blue dress Leandros had put her in.
Most demons who possessed human-like features wore clothing. Ekrell, having a salamander-like body, tended to be nude. All workers in my palace had to be clothed, however. It kept me feeling more like a ruler and less like a zookeeper.
In the case of the demon following me, clothing helped to hide her unsettling features. The dress she now wore was sleeveless, but it covered enough. Ekrell was tall and slender, with gray skin that shimmered to a sickly green in certain lighting. Thick ropes of black veins showed through her thin skin, throbbing and twitching like worms trapped beneath a tight stretch of cellophane. And her stomach… I could count her organs where they pressed the surface. I was the king of Hell, god of the former-Underworld, and even I was disturbed by the sight of her naked form.
I came to the door across the hall from my own and indicated it. “My guest will stay here, and you will be her loyal servant. Do you understand?”
Ekrell’s night-sky eyes blinked and her head tilted. Her gaze flickered between my face and that of the prize held carefully in my arms. “As you wish, Master.”
Before she’d been sent away years before, Ekrell had been a personal assistant of sorts. By the look on her face, she wondered if this was a promotion or a waste of her past skills. Annoyance flickered through me. She should be happy with any scrap of kindness I tossed her. Her recent procurement stilled my anger, however, and I ignored her insolence.
“Once she wakes, protect her, watch her, answer her questions—but do so with me in mind. For now, I need you to find information. I want to know why she fell. I want to know everything about it.”
“Ekrell won’t disappoint, Master.” She bowed deep before me then slunk away, the darkened length of her regenerated tail dragging the floor, past the guards that stood silently at the entrance to this top floor.
I turned and entered the room after opening the door with a quick thought, moving from the dark and severe hall into a suite of bright light and gentle pastels. It was opulent and feminine, better to suit an angel.
The suite had once been commandeered by Persephone, but after she’d run away I’d burnt the furniture. I hated the reminder of her parasitic occupation within my palace and prayed she’d never return. I’d only recently completed renovating the suite—a gesture of optimism and desperation for a better partner.
I placed my angel down amongst a pile of velvet pillows in muted shades of pink. They accented her, making her appear doll-like except for the dirt smudged on her feet and face. There was a bit of vine stuck in her hair, and a thorn dangerously close to pricking her cheek.
It wouldn’t do. I plucked the dried bit of foliage from her silky hair and clicked my tongue. She needed to be cleaned, and I didn’t trust anyone else to bathe her in her current condition. For my plans, it was unnecessary to leave her to wake up covered in the grey filth of Hell’s dusty grounds.
I swept her back up into my arms and brought her to the bathroom. Another bit of splendor, the room was light and pearly, with accents of arctic blue and gold. I’d been in a specific mood when I’d ordered the renovations. After centuries upon centuries of being unused, it seemed that mood would pay off.
I set her down on a velvet settee while I ran the bath and considered my luck. Once the tub was filled with warm inviting water, I pulled her loose of the white robe. Bathing her had seemed like a simple task until she was naked. I averted my eyes to save my sanity for a moment and rested her in the tub, making sure to lean her so that her head stayed above the water. Angels were immortal, but fallen angels were drained of that magic over time while their bodies changed. I didn’t want to accidentally drown her.
To clear my mind of wanton thoughts, I let her soak while I examined her former clothing. The fabric was torn in areas where small brambles had tangled into the delicate weave, but when I removed the intrusions, the cloth repaired itself. I carefully went over the robe plucking out each tiny dead thorn then gave the entire garment a good shake. It nearly sparkled now, restored to its former glory. I folded it and returned to my angel. No more procrastinating.
Her nude body wavered under the rippling water, clear enough that a fire blazed through me, tightening my muscles in the most pleasant way. Though there were variances in angel appearances, this one had flawless ivory skin that held a pale golden shimmer. I dipped a small towel into the water and used it to wipe her face. I’d never looked this closely at a female—or even been inspired to. The delicate swoop of her nose pleased me, and her lips were a full pucker of natural rose color, begging to be nipped. The towel fell into the water as I swept her hair to one side and leaned in to brush my lips against her temple. So soft. So fragile.
I gave in for only a moment. Returning to the task, I grabbed a bar of soap and worked a lather into my hands, using them to clean her smooth arms. Her skin was cool even in the warm water, much like my own. It was a trait shared among angels as it was with many gods and goddess, and I would never consider it except that it had been that long since I touched another like myself.
I rinsed the soap from my hands while staring at her closed lids and wondering what color her eyes were. I wanted them to be soft and feminine. Lavender or a delicate pink. They wouldn’t be cold and colorless like my own; angels were beings of brilliance. Hypocritical, tyrannical brilliance, but still.
I gently brushed damp fingertips along her pale cheeks and rested them along her pouty lips, compelled to give ironic thanks to her creator for making such an exquisite companion. Being a god amongst demons weighed heavy, and her appearance lifted that. I, a god modeled of perfection, deserved the reward before me. Though angels as a whole were filth, she would be molded to be my treasure and it was important that she looked the part.
There were more than a few reasons an angel could fall. Without knowing hers, I was in the dark with how to treat her when she woke. She could be mean-spirited or just unruly. She could be mad like Lucifer was, in which case I would have to get rid of her and give up my plan. Though I already felt a strong ownership, I would not risk allowing another deranged angel to infect my home and further torment my subjects. I traced the cupid’s bow of her mouth. Please be sane. Even if you’re angry and proud, please be sane. I didn’t want to give up my prize to be tortured at the hands of demons. I wanted her to be mine. I had plans for every inch of her perfect body.
