"I have judged thee, and found thee unworthy!

Fear, sorrow, revulsion at my own deeds; the emotions cloy in my chest like a physical ache, a hand clutching my heart until it feels as if it will burst. The fear is the most tangible, fear and a sense of vertigo that explodes through me as if someone had wrought a hook into my stomach and was now dragging me down, down, inexorably down into the depths below. Screaming, crying, begging, I claw at the ground as I plead for myself, plead forgiveness from the One whose countenance I cannot bring myself to look upon, because to do so would be sacrilege of the highest order. Even now, in my moment of despair, I avert my gaze, hoping against hope that He will relent, forgive, have mercy!

But I am falling, tumbling through a nothingness that defies all reason. I try in vain to let my wings carry me, to buoy myself on the currents as I have done so many times before, but there is no wind, nor any air; there is simply nothing, and the pit beneath it, blacker and more horrifying that I could have ever imagined it. I scream, but even sound seems to have been robbed from me; even as my vocal chords strain and tear apart with the force of my terror, all I hear is the vast, endless nothing that drags me down like gravity. No ground beneath me, nor sky above; just nothing. And for a long, hopeless moment, I fear that this is my fate, to fall forever, alone and despoiled. In pain. Such endless pain.

And somewhere in the back of my mind, a sudden understanding of what the Morningstar must have felt, all those eternities ago...

Only to suddenly find myself on my hands and knees, my entire body shivering and quaking while big, fat tears fall from my eyes onto the basalt rock beneath me. I can smell sulfur, and feel the heat of the endless caverns around me. Screams that echo and bounce around the Byzantine caves, hopeless, despairing--

And a voice, so near as to startle me and send me scrambling onto my back. It is smooth as silk and deep as sin, and even before the first word has entered my mind I feel a funny, tingling sensation trickle down my spine.

"What did you do, Eliza?"

I swallow, terrified as I look up at the owner of the voice. He, in turn, is smiling down at me, albeit with a sardonic smirk that undermines any friendliness he might have held. Despite the heat - or perhaps because of it - he is naked, with long, slender limbs that frame a muscular torso and - I cannot help but notice, to my shame - a long, beautiful cock between his legs. Only the eyes betray his origins, smoldering pits of dancing flame that betray no emotion whatsoever. I stare at him, knowing at once what he is, who he is, and thus immediately terrified of what he will do to me. Cast out, fallen... what mercy do I truly deserve?

When I fail to respond, he takes a few steps closer, and I avert my eyes from his naked form as he stops a few feet from me. Patiently, as if he were speaking to a child, the man - although the title does not begin do him justice - repeats his question.

"You have fallen, Eliza. Cast out. Not an unprecedented occurrence, all things considered. But to be cast out, you must have done something. Tell me what."

I hesitate, feeling more vulnerable than ever before in my existence. Slowly, almost dream-like, I shift off of my back and onto my knees, wings spread out slightly to keep my balance. I would stand, but somehow, my legs seem heavy, as if standing on them would only see me topple over. Thus, I kneel, and try to face him with as much dignity as I am able. The heat of the caves have already begun to soak into my skin, and tiny beads of sweat are starting to form on my brow, a foreign sensation that I have only felt once before - heat and sweat and slick skin on skin, muffled groans and sighs of pleasure, holding, teasing, taking...

The memory startles me with its intensity, and I look up in time to see my captor grinning softly, as if he had seen the entire train of my thought as plain as day. But when the moment drags on and he simply stares at me with those coal-fire eyes, I finally swallow and open my mouth to speak, realizing that lying would only add to my problems.

"I.. transgressed."

He snickers in response, and I feel my cheeks grow hot with impotent frustration. I have never been mocked before, never once. Despite my predicament, I feel the pride of my being well up within me. Before I can challenge him, however, he speaks again.

"Did you, now? I suppose that explains why you're down here. Enjoying the warmth, my dear?"

I shake my head, and he laughs again. "No, I didn't think so. But it is not often we see an angel down here, less so one that does not have the privilege of going back upstairs..."

His words are soft, but they sting all the same. I feel a lump in my throat, but I swallow it down before he can see what he is doing to me. He is one step closer now, and try as I might, I can't help but let my eyes wander to the potent shaft that swings, half-hard between his legs. A shiver runs down my spine.

"Tell me," he continues, with his deep, handsome voice sending tiny sparks of excited energy through my chest, "what did you do to get banished from Heaven? It must have been more than simply forgetting your daily hymns and hallelujahs, hmn? Not that I mind. We welcome all sinners down here, little Dove. Even the winged kind."

Wresting my gaze from his cock, I look him in the eyes with as much defiance as I can muster. I am still an angel, cast out though I may be, and I can feel the pearly white feathers of my wings bristle in the hot wind as he goads me.

"What do you care? My crimes are my own to lament."

He snorts, and with another step he is close enough that I can smell him, the fragrant scent of spice and heat almost tangible on my tongue. I feel faintly dizzy, as if starved for air. Can angels suffocate, I wonder? Death is a decidedly mortal concept, but we still breathe. We still feel pain. And loss. And... lust.

"Tell me," he demands, and I feel my resolve shatter like glass beneath an iron boot. What point is there in defying him? I'm damned either way. Let my sins be laid bare, that I may cleanse myself of them.

"I-- I lay with a mortal. For pleasure."

I can hardly stand to look into the demonic eyes of my tormentor, and instead I cast my gaze down - only to find his cock, thick and veiny, hanging a scant few inches from me, inviting in its growing form. The scent of charcoal and allspice cloys in my nostrils, and I can feel the platinum strands of my hair clinging to my forehead as beads of sweat gather on my brow. For a moment, my captor is quiet. Then, with a sardonic grin, he asks:

"Did you enjoy it?"

I hesitate. Then I nod, shame burning in my cheeks. Amused, he snorts again, but I see the way his cock jerks, growing larger and harder by the second.

"A slutty angel." He laughs and reaches down to caress my hair. "I suppose we know where you got the white for your tunic, hmn? How many times did you sin before the Authority learned of your misdeeds? How many saved souls did you taint with your lust and greed before he sent you down to be my plaything?"

I cannot answer; all I can do is stare at the growing manhood mere inches from my face, the strong fragrance at once both inviting and intimidating. I want to jerk myself away, take to the skies, use all of my strength and power to soar upwards on the warm winds until I find a hole, an opening, a mere crack in the ceiling of the cave that might see me out of this infernal place-- but I know it is futile. And in knowing, I do nothing. Instead, I simply let him stroke my hair with his cock bobbing two inches from my mouth, while his rich, smooth voice pours over me like molten chocolate.

"It is a cruel irony, is it not? For God to give His angels these parts, and still deny them their use." His fingers wrap in my hair, threatening to tug me closer, only exerting no pressure but that of his nails pressing lightly against my scalp, a hand-hold as gentle as any hug. "I find that of the two of us, He is the sadist. Testing, trying, doubting His faithful. And inflicting His wrath upon those who do not measure up. Like a child, throwing tantrums over flawed toys."

My mouth is lolling open, each breath coming out as a ragged gasp of air as he strokes his thumb onto my head. A large globule of clear fluid has gathered on the tip of his cock, and the shaft throbs in sync with his pulse, close enough for me to see each tiny jerk of warm, craving flesh.

"I never relished punishment. Which is why He sent me here, to dole it out on every one of His flawed little puppets. An exquisite bit of sadistic irony, don't you think?" I feel his gaze upon me, like a tangible heat across my skin, my neck and breasts shiny with a slick sheen of sweat. He chuckles softly. "Do you think, Eliza? Or are you too busy starting at what you've always wanted but couldn't have?"

His grip goes slack for a second, and I feel myself lunging forward, one blushing cheek finding his cock and rubbing against it as I clamp my lips onto his potent shaft. Moaning, gasping, I stick out my tongue and lap at the fragrant flavors of his sex, the spicy heat and salty sweat making me dizzy and short of breath. With a stupid, mindless moan, I move down along the length of him, rubbing my lips and face against his cock like a drunkard thirsting for her next pint of ale, and only when I've traced the length of his fat cum-vein from the base to the tip do I let my lips slip around him, my drooling tongue welcoming him into my mouth with a wet swirl.

I barely notice the hard rock beneath my naked knees, nor the way my wings twitch gloriously around me as I suck and swallow, suck and swallow around him, lips slurping and milking him for every drop of warm pre-cum that I can get. Despite not touching myself, I know that I am moaning more loudly than he is, and I feel a warm knot of shame at the realization. Slut. If the glove fits, I suppose. Who would have thought that any angel could ever be reduced to this? Who would have thought...

I reach up a hand to touch him, stroke him while my mouth gives him pleasure, but he swats it away his a smirk, instead using his grip on my hair to buck against my face to feed more of his meaty cock in between my lips. Looking up at him with my luminous blue eyes, I feel the question on my lips being forced back down my throat along with the turgid length of his otherworldly fuck-stick.

"No hands," he chides, and I obey - mindlessly, because I have no means to stop myself, even if I wanted. I can feel the rich slop of drool running down my chin, and my aching hard nipples against the silky fabric of my tunic. Between my legs, a heat is building, more bright and all-consuming than anything I have felt before. I pant, groan, whimper, every sound that it is possible for me to make to denote pleasure overwhelming. And his grin, no more concerned than if I had been doing a little dance for him, despite the press of his cock into my mouth until I feel my resistance buckle, and he sinks into my throat, distending it and blocking my airways. Suffocation-- of the sweetest kind imaginable.

With his eyes on mine, Lucifer Morningstar begins to throat-fuck me in earnest, both hands holding onto my head as the glorious length of his cock slips deeper and deeper into my mouth. Only when my eyes begin to water and it feels as if the world is growing faint and condensing into a tiny, black tunnel does he pull back and let me gasp for air, thick strings of spit clinging to my face and bridging the gap between us. And still, I can only think to open my mouth again and beg without words for him to re-enter me, to use me like I was meant to be used. A divine role as any other, really; the cock sleeve of the devil. God's own, perverse plan in action.

But even with my tongue reaching out to find his tip, Lucifer does not press back into my mouth. Instead, he strokes a hand lovingly through my hair and smiles, almost affectionately.

"Maybe you do belong here," he muses, and I nod, not sure what the hell has gotten into me. I suppose that's it - Hell has gotten into me..!

"Ah, well." He frowns slightly, and I feel the pressure around my head abate as he steps back. "Show me, then. If you are so devoted to your sin all of a sudden."

I look up at him, a spit-smeared face of angelic beauty contorted into a mask of hungry desire, and with swift, deft movements I tug and tear my tunic apart, the perfect white staining on the grimy floor as it pools around me. With quivering limbs and wings splayed around me, I turn away from him and get down on all fours, pale cheeks spreading to present my sex to him. Cruel irony indeed, I muse to the sensation of his body kneeling down behind me. To grant me a hungry cunt and a sensitive clit, and then forbid me from using either. To give me a taste for cum but no means of getting it. To give me pleasure, and then deny it from me...

Is that me talking, I wonder? Or is it this place infecting me already? Is it him, guiding me to yet more sin? Robbing me of salvation? Is that not what he does?

And then he finds my wet lips and spreads me open around his girth in one, hard push, and I cry out in frantic pleasure. His hips slap into mine, hands on my waist pulling me back onto him, and I feel wave after wave of electric joy surge through me as he begins to fuck me, hard and fast and deep. My wings twitch, my breasts sway back and forth, and his fingers dig into my hips as he plunges into my burning pussy with a surety as if he owned it. Deep, deep thrusts that rock me forward, and my cheeks already start to burn from the repeated slapping of his hips and groin into me. And all the while, his voice above me, filtering through the rustle of feathers as he fucks me raw.

"Perhaps you do indeed belong here, Eliza. Perhaps God sent you to be my toy, a reward for eons of good work. Perhaps you were made to please and give pleasure, to be mine in this damned place. Perhaps you won't even notice when your wings burn off and your skin turns to the ashen gray of the harlot succubi who tend to the cocks of my demons. Perhaps you will even forget your own name, and the sound of your voice beyond the begging for cock and cum, cock and cum, endlessly moaning, whining, pleading..."

He raises a hand and delivers a numbing blow across my ass, and I howl with pain and pleasure, tears of humiliation and delight streaking down my face. He is huge inside me, and filling me so completely that I suspect his cock might be growing fatter with every stroke. I cannot speak, but the next spank sends me rocking forward, pussy clenching around him in the preliminary throes of orgasm.

"Perhaps." He sounds entirely untroubled, despite hammering himself into me as hard and deep as any cock could ever go. "But perhaps not. And perhaps I do not want a present from the tyrant who sentenced me here, as if your paltry body could satisfy a lifetime of yearning for my home!"

His rut grows more frenzied, and I cry out in bursts of overwhelmed pleasure, more yelps than moans of delight. Another spank, this one leaving a burning sensation that blends seamlessly into the onslaught of aggressive fucking, and a hand suddenly finds my hair and yanks my head back, hard and uncaring.

"Banishment, vilification, an eternity of punishment, and he sends you?! A mindless fuck puppet to assuage a literal ten thousand years of torment? A cock sleeve, a useless cunt-- a whore, some mocking imitation of my Paradise lost?!"

I mewl, arms flailing as he drags me against him, one hand pulling my hair, the other wrapping around my throat to choke me, hurt me, kill me--

But then his rutting stops, and his hands go soft around me. With one hand still clasped around my throat, he wraps the other arm around my body and dips the fingers between my legs, a smooth, loving embrace that he caps off with a soft kiss against my platinum blonde hair. Slowly, his fingers begin to wiggle in a gentle circle around my clit, and I feel him slide slowly into me, all sense of wrath or urgency forgotten.

"Sssh..." He leans against my ear and drops his voice to a soft murmur, gently stroking his thumb up and down the soft skin of my neck while I try to stifle a quiet sob. "I shan't hurt you any more. But if the Authority wants you down here, I believe you ought to earn it. Not from one mistake, but from a lifetime. A-- year. In mortal form. My gift to you, sweet Dove, if you would have it. A year to walk the Earth among the mortals, and then, to be judged as a mortal. To prove him wrong..."

His fingers are working faster now, and I can feel my body arch against him, slowly writhing as the pleasure builds and builds and builds. Whimpering, I want to say something, to ask him how-- but he is in me and on me, working his shaft deep into my cunt while sending pulse-flares of pleasure through me with his fingers on my clit. Harder, faster, the slow drag of his cock between my swollen, sodden lips, and all I can do is open my mouth and moan pathetically as he kisses my earlobe.

"What do you say, little Dove? A year to earn your way back into Heaven... or to earn your way back down here? A life..."

"Yes!" My orgasm hits me like a thunderclap, the pleasure suddenly peaking and spilling into a roiling frenzy of sensation that rocks me forward, legs quivering beneath me, and then back against his firm chest, convulsing with mind-shattering bliss while he holds me gently in his arms. "Yes! Yes! Yesss---!"

He smiles softly against my ear. "So shall it be. Farewell, Eliza. I hope we never meet again."

--and I jerk upright in my bed, heart hammering and my panties absolutely drenched. The alarm clock on the night stand shows 5:57; just over half an hour until I have to get up anyway. I swallow a mouthful of sweet-tinged spit and throw my legs off the edge of the bed, rising on legs that feel oddly weak. As if I'd just had an orgasm...