The following piece was written as a paid commission by a wonderful fan who has requested to stay anonymous. They loved the final result, and I hope you do, too! Sin seems to be in style lately.
Statues of the saints loomed in the darkness like silent watchmen as Saraqael drifted between them. Their pious expressions were upturned towards the Heavens, or bowed in humble respect. Had they been able to truly lay eyes on the angel that walked the aisles, whose sunlight aura illuminated the mute martyrs, they would have fallen to their knees in terrified awe.
She paused betwixt Saint Sebastian, who cured the plague, and Saint Dymphna, patron of the fearful. Tilting her head, she could see the sanctuary in the gloom beyond. The altar was a large and intricate thing made of wood and marble; the soft radiance of its blessing was visible in her sight. Now and then it flickered and dimmed; this was a troubled church.
The source of that trouble, she had no doubt, was the figure standing behind the altar. Just as the sacred stone glowed with holy light, the being behind it bathed in profane darkness. Above and behind it, surrounded by gold filigree, the Son of God hung upon His cross. Renaissance artwork of His death and resurrection braced the crucifix to either side.
Saraqael stepped out from between the statues and let her aura illuminate her path. Behind her she flexed her wings: an almost three meter span of pure white energy. The shadow at the altar shifted and coalesced into a female form with ashen grey skin. The demon’s straight black hair was short, reaching only to her chin; just above her hairline sprouted a pair of long ridged horns, also black, that curved up and back. The color matched the small patch of hair between the succubus’ legs, and the bare nipples that crowned her voluptuous breasts. She grinned knowingly at the angel who stalked the rows.
The voice came from behind her, and Saraqael stiffened and sucked in a startled breath. Slim arms wrapped around her middle and drew her in tight.
“It’s just me.” The demoness nipped at an angelic earlobe. “Relax.”
Sara hissed what would have been a curse, had she the ability to do so. “I thought you were by the altar!”
A soft laugh sounded in her ear as the woman released her. The raised dais still seemed occupied, although the shadowy form there stood unnaturally still. “Would you prefer that I were?”
“Naamah, quit it.” Saraqael pushed her away with a powerful flex of white-energy wings.
Naamah smirked. She was as nude as her doppelganger, and just as unashamed. “And here I thought you liked me.”
Sara huffed as she re-folded her wings around her and strode away. She fixed her ire on the illusionary woman at the altar and dispelled the enchantment with a single thought. It melted into charcoal smoke, though she would swear it winked at her first. “Would it be too much to ask that you cover yourself?”
Naamah followed, her tail undulating from side to side with the sway of her hips. She circled the altar on the opposite side and sauntered along its length, trailing her fingertips over the stone. The aura sizzled with indigo smoke where she touched. “Am I so unpleasant to look upon?”
“You’re in a house of God.”
“Filled by a flock who sin on Saturday, repent on Sunday, and start again before the sun has set.” Naamah’s grin betrayed her mirth. She winked at Sara as she continued her walk. “Shepherded by a priest who fucks another man’s wife.”
“Must I really say something about those in glass houses throwing stones?”
Dark shoulders lifted and fell. As she spoke, the glint of her silver tongue was visible behind her teeth: literal metal, and sharp enough to slice. “I’m a whore, Sara. It’s why you love me.”
“Don’t use that word.”
“It’s why you fuck me?” she offered as correction, lifting an eyebrow.
Her leisurely steps brought her to Sara’s side and then behind her, as Naamah’s palms brushed over the angel’s hips. Hell and Heaven touched with an electric spark and the scent of ozone and sulfur. Saraqael sucked in a sharp breath; her fingers spread and pressed against the altar’s stone surface where they touched. She shot Naamah a scything look over her shoulder.
Naamah chuckled in response. “Maybe this time,” she murmured, pressing in against Sara’s celestial spine, “I should fuck you.”
The air sizzled between them and sparked with turbulent energy as it was pressed between opposing poles. The sensation tingled over Naamah’s exposed skin, and through the draping folds of Sara’s ethereal garment. Despite how it looked, the cloth was nothing more than a decorative manifestation of being — and just as sensitive.
“You–” Her breath caught as she felt Naamah’s breasts push against her shoulders. She closed her eyes as she gathered her bearing again. “You are a sinner, Naamah. Worse than Rahab or Rosier. It is my purpose as a Dominion to punish you. To drive out your corruption.”
“Is that what you were doing? Redeeming me while I was on all fours?”
Naamah’s touch slid over Sara’s rear and descended to explore between her thighs. The angel’s wings twitched in response and started to spread; Naamah pushed herself more firmly against Sara’s back to stop them. The weight of her pressure made Sara lean forward, and the angel braced herself, arms out straight, to keep from being bent over the altar.
“Perhaps you need some ‘redemption’,” the demoness murmured as she ground her hips against her companion and leaned in to lick her ear. Her silver tongue was razor sharp, and the sudden pain made the other woman gasp. “Shall I purify you, Saraqael? Make you scream your sins?”
As Naamah spoke, she transformed. She held Sara’s hips tight against her own as her clit began to swell and the folds of her sex knit themselves together. The skin thinned, stretched, and sagged as the weight of testicles grew within; what had once been a hidden gem at the top of her slit now peeked out into the open.
Sara bit her lip and closed her eyes. The pressure of Naamah’s new anatomy was subtle at first, but it grew with every passing second. Soon ten centimeters of eager flesh jutted against her rear; then fifteen, then twenty, infused with forbidden infernal heat.
“I– I am an a-angel,” she whispered in protest. Her hands pressed down on the altar; she held still as Naamah traced that quicksilver tongue over her shoulder blades. Papercut pain followed the path, and golden blood welled from the wound before shifting to a vibrant ruby red. “I am a Dominion. I rule you.”
“Pride goeth before destruction,” Naamah reminded her, trailing a feminine, black-nailed finger down Sara’s spine. Where it touched the angel’s clothing, the garment dissolved and became skin once more. Naamah smirked at the ease with which it surrendered.
Naamah interrupted with a laugh. “Your position? Yes, let’s talk about your position, Sara.” The womanly charms between the demoness’ thighs were gone, though the rest of her body still had them in abundance. Before, she had possessed a lush and lovely valley, an object of lust for any man. Now, she sported a thick black cock nearly as long as her forearm. She slowly rocked her hips to drag its veined length over the crease between Sara’s cheeks. The slap that followed left a reddened handprint on the pale rump, and echoed through the church. “Turn around. I want to see your face when I take you.”
The heat of Naamah’s body against her back vanished, and Saraqael bit back a whimper of complaint. She let herself be turned by ashen hands; Naamah boosted her up to sit upon the altar. The demon’s lips bore a lopsided smile: half genuine fondness and half knowing smirk as the Dominion obeyed.
“We’re in a church,” Sara whispered as token objection.
“God isn’t watching.” Now that Sara had given tacit permission, the flame of lust in Naamah’s loins gained new strength. She caught the angel’s lips in a kiss; the threat of her sharp tongue ensured those lips parted. Her tail coiled around a pale thigh and wrapped tight.
Sara moaned. The illusion of her flowing robe faded away as Naamah’s silver tongue stroked her own. It was as delightful as it was dangerous, and it wasn’t long before they shared the taste of honeyed blood between them. The pretense of enmity was dropped, for now. Naamah’s hands on Sarah’s thighs urged them apart, and Sara spread them without second thought. She cupped Naamah’s impressive breasts in her hands and squeezed each in turn.
The succubus misunderstood. Her form began to shift, and the beautiful softness of her chest started to shrink. “Do you want me as a man?”
“No. No, as a woman.” In response, something much less soft but just as impressive began to melt away instead. Sara reached down to curl her fingers around Naamah’s cock. “As you are,” she corrected. “As both.”
“Both?” Naamah’s eyebrows arched up, and her quicksilver tongue wet her lips. The rod between her thighs ceased its atrophy… and as Sara’s hand gripped its uncut length, it soon regained what girth it had lost.
“Both,” she confirmed, cupping the silken warmth of Naamah’s breast in her other palm.
Naamah let out a soft laugh before reaching down and halting Sara’s hand. Sara looked up in surprise, only to be graced with an infernal wink and the press of those full, feminine globes against her own. The gentle pressure of flesh against flesh urged Sara backwards, guiding her down on the holy altar.
“Lay down,” the succubus instructed.
Saraqael had little choice in the matter. She laced her arm around the back of Naamah’s neck for support and reflexively spread her wings out wide. It cushioned the coolness of wood and quarried marbled, and the soft feathers provided a buffer between skin and stone.
The ashen woman grinned as Sara stretched out before her. She ran her palms from smooth shoulders over milk-white breasts, topped with rose-blush nipples that looked so much more innocent than they were. Naamah hummed her approval. Her gaze followed the path of her hand, which traced down over a taut stomach. Down further still, slowing to a teasing crawl as her black nails neared the junction of Sara’s thighs. The downy patch of golden hair was so sparse as to almost be absent entirely: a hint of womanly virtue on an otherwise maiden form. It was a dramatic contrast to the nest of thick black curls that Naamah bore between hers, and which now surrounded her erection.
Lips replaced fingers. Naamah brushed her mouth against the crease where sex and leg met. Sara sucked in a sharp breath and tensed, sliding her fingers into Naamah’s short hair.
“I’ll be careful,” Naamah promised as she nuzzled into the warm skin.
“Sometimes your tongue gets away from you,” Sara shot back in a whisper.
“You’ve never complained.”
The succubus switched sides. The tip of her nose traced a warm path, warning the Dominion of her intention. Then came the molten metal of her tongue. It was soft and supple, despite the polished metal appearance, and as capable of pleasure as any mortal’s so long as she took care. Naamah hummed her pleasure as she licked along Sara’s inner leg. She kept the blade of her tongue flat and relaxed as she slowly but surely followed the scent of arousal to its source.
One grey hand pressed against Sara’s thigh to spread her wider; the other eased down to the shaft between her own legs. Naamah curled her fingers around her cock; the others spread in a ‘V’ to part the angel’s folds. She worked her tongue against the roof of her mouth until it was thick with saliva, and then let a hot strand of it drip down onto the exposed clit.
Another lick, this one along the edge of a glistening lip; she mirrored it on the other side. Sara’s grip in her hair tightened, and Naamah smirked. She stroked her shaft as she worked, but the feminine treasure in front of her held the lion’s share of her attention. She suckled soft flesh between her lips, murmuring with pleasure; Sara whimpered softly in response.
The smirk turned into a soft laugh as, the next time Naamah’s tongue dipped between her lover’s folds, Sara’s hips rose up to meet her. The demoness teased, purposefully playing loose with the risk of blood, and darted quick, light flicks against the angel’s entrance. The next whimper was louder.
Naamah closed her lips around the hooded gem at the top of Sara’s slit. She sucked and stroked it with the flat of her tongue. The pace of her hand on her cock quickened.
“Oh, f… please, Naamah. More!”
She was tempted to stiffen the tip of her tongue and flick it rapid-fire over Sara’s clit. The mental image followed of her pressing the silver length into her wet channel, as far as it could go, and tasting the honey-thick sweetness of divine nectar. Both, though, would end with Sara bloody and screaming in less than pleasant ways. Naamah rose from where she leaned, letting her tongue slide from slit to navel before coiling it back into her mouth. She smiled as she braced one hand next to the angel’s head, careful to avoid pinning a delicate wing beneath her palm.
“More?” she echoed, before sharing the taste of sex smeared on her lips.
Sara nodded. Her arms curled around Naamah’s shoulders, and she returned the kiss in full — only to break it again with a hiss when she was less than respectful of just how sharp the demon’s tongue could be.
“Can’t you change that?” she whispered, as Naamah pulled at her hips to urge her closer to the edge of the stone.
“Mmm. No, not that part. Everything else…”
A moment later the angel’s blue eyes widened as the heat of Naamah’s other ‘part’ rubbed against her slit. The tip was spongy and yielding, and the foreskin velvet soft. The shaft underneath it, though, was hard as marble.
“That– that’s not going to fit,” Sara whispered as the tip of Naamah’s cock begin to press against her entrance.
“Yes, it will.”
“No, it won’t!”
“Relax.” She reassured the angel with another kiss, this one warm and gentle. Her arms slid beneath her spread knees to hold them up and wide.
Sara tried. She focused on the heat of Naamah’s dark skin on hers, and the ember light behind red eyes. She focused on the taste of her as they kissed again, and the sting of hair-thin cuts inside her mouth. The taste of blood, the coolness of stone against her back… none of it blotted out the growing ache as the massive member spread her open.
“It’s too big.”
“It will fit,” Naamah repeated, nipping at her lover’s pink lips.
She squirmed and writhed, trying to pull away from the pain. “Make it smaller!”
“No.” This time the rejection was firm, and the demon’s grip tightened. “You wanted me as I am,” she reminded the Dominion in a low murmur. “You wanted more.”
The cry bounced off ecclesiastic walls as what began as a name ended in a scream. A searing bolt of pain flashed through her sex and lit up every nerve. She gasped as her hymen tore and the black, bulbous head stretched her nearly to the point of breaking. Then it was in. Her inner walls tensed and squeezed around it in vain resistance, and Sara’s hands in her lover’s hair gripped tight. Naamah held still until Sara unclenched her teeth and opened her eyes again. They were heavenly blue and dazed with pain.
“I think I know how much a body can take… especially yours.” She smiled down, released her hold on Saraqael’s legs, and reached to stroke over pale, heaving breasts instead. The motion pushed her cock forward another inch; Sara hissed in response.
“Been there, done that.” The succubus arched her hips in, rolling them with a slow and languid motion. Sara tensed again, but sprawled on her back and with her legs spread wide, she was in no position to resist. The swollen shaft sank into her, inch by aching inch. It felt impossibly long and impossibly good as the fullness melted pain into pleasure. Naamah’s fingers played across her nipples. The demon smirked with affection. Flickers of confused, wonderous emotion danced across Sara’s face as she tried to process being on the receiving end.
Finally the intrusion came to a standstill, and Sara let out the breath she’d been holding. Her pussy throbbed where she was stretched around Naamah’s manhood. The firmness of living flesh, the girth of it and thickness, filled her to the brim. She could feel the weight and warmth where the balls rested against her ass, and the scratch of coiled curls against her nether lips. Naamah stared down at her, still smiling, before she started to move again.
“I’m going to fuck you properly,” she promised, sliding her cock back. It glistened with nectar and maiden blood. “You’re going to scream my name one more time.”
“Jus– just one?”
“At least one.” She reversed course and pushed in deep once more. Sara arched off the altar with a whine that spread Naamah’s grin from ear to ear. “Maybe the rest will be ‘oh God, oh God, oh God’.”
“Ssh! He’ll hear you!”
She squeezed Sara’s chest with both hands and repeated the slow stroke of her hips. “I’ll make sure He hears you.”
Saraqael started to object, but all that emerged was a breathy moan as Naamah slid in to the hilt. Beautiful black breasts swayed with the motion as the demoness leaned over her, and the face that grinned down at her was elegantly feminine. Her dark hair played just short of her shoulders — a boyish touch, perhaps, but the staff between her lush thighs was undeniably man.
Naamah’s rhythm began to quicken once the pain of deflowering faded from Sara’s eyes. The walls of her wet sex clung tight, adding friction to each thrust. Soon the slap of flesh against flesh echoed through the sanctuary, accompanied by a chorus of grunts and moans. Naamah bared her teeth in a feral grin and once more anchored Sara’s legs in her arms.
Slk slk slk! The sloppy sound was crude and wonderful. Each thrust jolted Saraqael against the holy stone. Her wings stayed still as her torso bobbed, giving a mock illusion of attempted flight. Her eyes were wide and her mouth open, stuttering sounds of protest and pleasure. She gripped tight onto black ibex horns as a desperate anchor.
Naamah purred as Sara tugged her head down. She flexed her neck against the hold and grinned when she felt the strength behind it. The Dominion’s body jerked with each powerful motion, and her moans grew higher and higher pitched. All the power of the Heavenly Host, spread wide for one of Hell’s whores.
“Say my name,” the demon breathed.
Her tail squeezed where it wrapped like a corkscrew around Sara’s leg. Then it uncoiled, and the leathery spade tip crawled like a serpent along the altar’s intricate edge. “Tell me you want it in your ass.”
“Are you mad? It’s huge!”
Something wormed its way between Sara’s cheeks, and it wasn’t Naamah’s cock. That was pumping in and out of her with demonic vigour, filling her and stretching her in ways she’d never thought possible. Sara’s eyes widened, matching the open ‘O’ of her lips. There was nothing she could do save hang on to the woman above her, whose arms still anchored Sara’s knees up and wide, and who had her spread helplessly open.
She gasped. The tip of the prehensile tail pressed into her ass, snaking back and forth as it sought entry. The triangular end was flexible enough to fold in at the sides, yielding a slim cylindrical shape much more suited to Naamah’s aim. Sara felt it squeeze past her sphincter and into the sensitive canal beyond. Her head fell back against the altar as she let loose an unabashed moan. “Oh, fuck. Oh Jes–”
The succubus silenced her with a hand across her lips. “He’ll hear you,” she admonished. “If He hears you, you’ll Fall.”
Sara tried to nod. She wasn’t sure whether she moved her head in affirmation, or if Naamah was fucking her so hard that her body moved instead. Over the smooth curve of a grey shoulder, she could see the church’s crucifix. It jolted in her vision each time Naamah hilted in. The Son of God stared down at the angel being sullied on the altar.
Naamah kept her hand in place. She muffled Sara’s cries of dismay and delight against a dark palm. Now she could use her tail and her cock in unison. Coordinating both in rhythm took far too much concentration, but she could easily twitch the former while pounding Sara with the latter. She felt the angel jerk underneath her, and white hands pulling on her horns in a desperate bid to hold on. The muscles of Sara’s sex pulsed and squeezed around the demon’s manhood.
“Let go,” Naamah whispered. “You want this. Scream, Sara. Cum.”
Her blue eyes were bright with struggle… and then fluttered and rolled back. Another inch of undulating tail writhed its way up her ass, and the moan that escaped her this time quickly pitched into a soul-deep wail. Her sex clenched, as did every muscle in her spread legs and taut core. Naamah growled her pleasure against the angel’s ear. Sara screamed against her palm, a sound of release so pure and intense that it made Naamah ache inside.
She’d intended to hold back, but with Sara’s ass and pussy both squeezing her tight, and that cry of need and fulfilment vibrating against her skin, the temptation to finish was far too strong. Naamah clenched her teeth, tail and cock alike jerking as she abandoned self-control. Her release came in thick and ropey spurts; each one coated the angel’s insides with sticky excess that would have shamed a mortal man.
The crest peaked and broke; the tension flooded out of Sara with a series of violent aftershocks that made the Dominion spasm like a puppet on its strings. She felt the flood of Naamah’s heat start to fill her with infernal seed. Her back bucked off the altar like a bow drawn taut; her wings flexed, glorious and in vain. She felt black lips moving against her neck as her body collapsed into a quivering puddle.
“Ssh, ssh. That’s it. Beautiful, Sara; you’re beautiful.”
They both fell silent. Their shared, panting breaths rustled through the empty church like dry autumn leaves, punctuated by the rapid-fire bass of racing hearts. Celestial sweat dampened the holy stone Sara lay upon; Naamah’s dripped down between her heavy breasts. Glistening juices smeared over marble and oak.
Finally, Sara released Naamah’s horns. The demoness sighed in relief and cricked her neck from side to side. “You’re stronger than you look.”
Saraqael let her arms fall to her sides. Her entire being thrummed with pleasure and relaxation; even opening her eyes felt impossible. “Likewise,” she mumbled.
Naamah chuckled, turning her head enough to press a loving kiss to the Dominion’s jaw. “You inspire me to strength… just not of the moral kind.”
Sara gave a wordless sound of acknowledgement. She was content to lay there with Naamah on top of her, and Naamah was happy to oblige.
“… you came inside me, didn’t you?”
The succubus let out a breathy laugh. “You enjoyed it. Don’t lie.” She nuzzled against her lover’s neck.
“I did not. I–” She felt Naamah grin a split second before she felt the tail flex and twist. Sara gasped, and her traitorous body responded with a flush of renewed pleasure.
“… you were saying?”
Saraqael rewarded Naamah with a swift smack of open palm against her horns. “Let me up. And take that thing out of me.”
Her infernal counterpart didn’t move for several long moments. Eventually, though, the sinuous appendage stirred again, and extracted itself from her rear with surprisingly gentleness. Naamah levered herself upright, and rather than ease her member out of Sara’s passage, she did away with it entirely. The shaft shrank in on itself and dwindled away, while the testicles that hung beneath separated into two distinct mounds, shrank into nothingness, and reformed as feminine lips instead. “So: arch enemies again?”
The sourness in the question brought Saraqael up short. She sat up, bracing herself with a hand behind her hips. Now unpinned, her wings stretched out in their full glory… and then carefully folded inwards, wrapping Naamah is a delicate white embrace.
“…thank you,” Sara managed after a moment, the words awkward on her lips.
Naamah rolled her eyes.
“I mean it, Naamah. For everything.” Sara lifted her hands to the woman’s dark face. “For meeting me. For humoring me. For silencing me.”
Sara’s lips pursed.
Naamah lifted both eyebrows expectantly. “For fu….?”
“Yes, fine; for fucking me. There. Are you happy?”
The small victory brought a smile back to her dark lips. “Yes.”
“I don’t know why I put up with you.”
“I could say the same.”
Sara tightened the wrap of her wings around her lover. “…the Chorus will be assembling soon. Where will we meet next?”
“There are no end to scandalized churches; I have a list as long as my arm.”
The angel smiled and gave Naamah a knowing look. She graced black lips with an affectionate kiss. “Let me know when you want to cross off the next one.”
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