Angel’s Demise


A scene, specially created for the moment. It took a few hours to arrange and set up and it was SO worth it. Angel has always had something for the dark and fantastic, loosely rooted in myth and legend. I wanted a BEAST for her, and a BEAST she got.

We ended up rolling with the idea of a succubus daeva (Naamah) taking her newly caught prey angel (Angel) to the minotaurial smith-god Hephaestos to have her marked as her own and create the magical bond that Naamah is known for.

Keep in mind this is a literal transcript (log) from a roleplay scene – all parties involved were happy to share this to the public, and so it is here accompanied by a few pics for visual stimulation. Enjoy.

Angel’s Demise

Naamah, glimmering with a dark joy, steps through the door of the smithy, her prize in tow. The heavy chain around the white creature clinking after a rough tug through the doorway. Leathery wings flap and fold and spread while she strides down the steps, dragging the angel by her neck while she keeps her gaze on the dungeonesque space. It’s not hard to see the smith in his space and she can’t help but let her lips quirk in an anticipating smile “Hello Hephaestos,” she nods in greeting, the mock of a bow, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Hephaestos stood at the anvil, wielding a maul that looked comically puny in his monstrous hands, but would have likely taken two men to lift. Bringing it down on a red-hot rod of iron, the clang echoed into the bones of those present like an electric shock, sparks splashing into the air and filling the smoky den of the smith-god, here at the center of his labyrinth.

Angel feels the pull of the heavy chain tightening the leather around her neck as her legs tremble a bit with every steps she makes following nervously the creature who has managed to catch her, as she then looks around taking in the scenery and notices a girl in a cage and another dark being which she had never seen before and listens to the conversation as she finds her knee give under her into a kneeling position looking low on the ground nervously but with a hint of deep curiosity.

Naamah actually seems to purr at each strike, the sound and shock of each strike rippling through her body, tingling her spine, creeping between her loins and she can’t deny the pleasure of shocking static in the air. The bad thing about loud things is that they might have muffled her entrance. She speaks up louder, stepping closer “Hephaestos! Clientele!”

Romi turns a tear-stained face to the newcomers, swaying from her perch silently. A victim terrified for whomever had been brought before the cruel beast that had become her master. The lashes on her back and front mark only a hint of the tortures that could lay ahead.

Hephaestos’ ears whicker as the woman calls out a second time, though the smith does not lose his rhythm. The rheumy eyes never left the metal, though his voice boomed between each thundering strike, the same hammer blows that could forge the bolts of Zeus, the Shield of Achilles, and countless other artifacts that heroes and gods bore through time immemorial. His voice filled the forge and struck the ear as if each word was graven on marble. “NAAMAH. WHAT HAVE YOU BROUGHT ME?”

Angel looks at the women swaying in the cage looking at her marks making her wonder what may come as she finds herself shivering from the nervousness and finds herself intensely focused to each sound and any movements made around her. Ears perk up taking in the dark being intense words.

Naamah’s glance only briefly rests on the tortured soul in the cage, a moment of envy before she remembers what she just dragged in. A hand reaches down into the white one’s hair, turning the angel’s eye to the girl in the cage for just a brief moment, making perfectly sure it is seen. When the Smith booms his voice she trembles as the waves of sound slam into her and her eyes betray her revelry. Stepping farther forward, near the heat of the glowing embers, she tosses the meek creature forward by the platinum manes. Her voice husky and in sheer contrast with Hephaestos, she purrs “prey. Freshly fallen. Would you be so kind to help me marr this creature with my marks? The last one didn’t do me no good. I’m hoping this one will be able to stand it.”

Romi flinches visible at just the sound of Hephaestus’s booming voice, letting out the fearful cry of one used to hearing its displeasure. She lets out a muffled cry through the gag, trying to provide warning, hoping whosoever had been taken prey could find escape before being subjected to the monster’s clutches.

Hephaestos’ hammer blows continued to fall, working as the angels approached the forge, and as near as they were, each hammerfall would rattle their bones, a pressurewave that would shatter the skeleton of mere mortals. No wonder that his plaything was safely tied across the room, though even she must be shellshocked from the ceaseless work that was carried out in the forge. He let them stand without a reply, as he continued his work, until he finally lifted it to examine the edge of what appeared to be a flawless weapon, a sword fit for kings. He sneered, however, and thrust it spitefully into the flames. Finally, he looked down to the pair, “CLEARLY, THIS IS WHAT YOU HAVE BROUGHT. WHAT HAVE YOU BROUGHT,” he put a note of emphasis on this next bit, as if it were somehow possible, “FOR ME?”


Angel feels the hand of who she now knows to call “Naamah” turning her head and having a good look at the tortured soul while hearing her fearful cry… She feels herself pulled forward again towards the dark being remembering his name as well as she feels this will be engraved in her mind for a long time to come. She hears the word mark and shivers even more. She looks around for any kind of escape as if her inner voice was telling her to flee but cannot help to wonder about that which feels so wrong to even think of. She feels the vibration of each hit of the hammer goes through her bones adding to her fear and curiosity at the same time.

Naamah’s lips curl wide and she seems amused. Every strike of the hammer rattles her and yet, it’s the kind of rattling that could make her scream with pleasure in the long run. An admiring look at the freshly forged, almost perfect sword thrust back into the flame for reforging to actual perfection makes her give a moment’s pause, but she speaks eventually, “ohhhh, darling God, have I ever not paid you well? You know… besides last time, when that girl bled to death because.. well.. ah. Hm. And.. ” She smirks a little “What is your price,” she grins and idly curls a locke of hair of the white one “what is your price, oh lord of power?” There’s a playfully mocking tone when she addresses with such a title. “You know what I want.. I wouldn’t want to leave you… wanting..”

Angel finds her wings wrapping themselves around her shoulders and her tail around her leg as if she was protecting herself and being shy of being shown this way while she takes in every words feeling as in a deal was being made where she had no choice. She looks deeply to Naamah wondering what might have happened to that girl, and trembles some more as she even dare to let her eyes wander and look at whom is now called Lord of Power

Hephaestos’ breath leaves his nostril in twin jets of hot vapor, and he sets the hammer against the anvil, shaking the ground with a thump as it comes to rest on the primordial flagstones of his lair. He turns to the angels, and stoops over, grabbing the captured demigoddess by the arm, lifting her into the air as if she was no more than a ragdoll, “I WOULD HAVE HER. HERE. NOW. THEN, YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR BRAND.” His breath blew into the blonde’s face, filling her nose with the scent of the forge, the sulfur and metal and ash of his domain.

Naamah snarls the moment Hephaestos picks up her prize like that and instinctively yanks at the chain around the girls neck as if trying to tug her back into her aura but to no avail. Her eyes narrow and she breathes hard and deep. She’s not out to protect the girl, it’s selfish as is everything she does, and she knows just what could happen. “No,” she states. Quietly but determinedly. “You think I’m some kind of fool?” Disdain creeps into her voice and her eyes reflect the flame of the forge. “God you may be, but you will not claim her before I have. You want HER? Then we make her MINE first.”

Angel feels her eyes widened as the dark lord approaches her and lifts her up from her knees by the arm and get the sulfur smell and the jets of hot vapor on her cheeks making her skin warm and dares to look him in the eyes unsure of his intent of hearing the words “have her now..” and looks at Naamah with a look mixed of fear and undefined thoughts. Angel takes in the words of Naamah feeling the tug of the chain trying to bring her back to her and listens deeply as if her life was in the hand of both strangers who until this day she had no idea even existed.

Hephaestos’ head barely flicked toward her, the impassive bovine features regarding her as a mere mote of dust that somehow wandered into his field of view, “DAUGHTER OF ASMODAE. HAVE YOU IN YOUR SHORTSIGHTEDNESS MISTAKEN ME FOR HERMES? YOU WOULD ACCUSE HEPHAESTOS FOR A CHEAT? YOU HAVE RECEIVED MY TERMS. BE THANKFUL I DO NOT SIMPLY TAKE HER AS AN OFFERING.”

Naamah cringes as the booming voice rattles and washes over her. Her insides shaken, fuck, even her tits tremble with the wave of sound crashing onto her “No. You are not Hermes” she speaks quietly. Her head inclines in what could be a quiet bow of respect, this time without mock. When her head lifts however, she doesn’t seem to have lost her fire “You can have her. We mark her as mine first. You may not be Hermes, but I know your pleasures, bull. This Ishtarian spawn, you’ve never felt this before, have you? That’s why you want her so bad. You can have her. AFTER the marking.”

Angel is rattled by her nervousness as she heard the words of those two beings sealing her fate before her eyes without daring to say a word and keeping her her lips sealed, as little tears starts to form remembering the days before she fell into Naamah’s grip as her wings tightens around her, but even more confused by her own body’s response giving her a hint at betraying her for what may come. She knows deep inside that this day may forever mark her as she feels herself fall back low deep on her knees.

Hephaestos takes a step forward, past the fallen devil, toward the podium in the center of the chamber, a ledger. Each fall of his hooves struck much like the hammer, the ground quaking beneath him, and he managed to reverse the role of the leash around the angel’s neck, using her as a handle to drag along the dark-tanned one. Arriving at the tome, he merely touched the page, and the ink across it shifted, glyphs and seals appearing to create a divine contract, complete with a single blank line at the bottom, to be signed in blood. “YOU HAVE A BARGAIN. SIGN.”


Naamah grins slyly and lets her hips sway on the way to the ledger. She doesn’t bother with the girl, watching her fall back to the floor from the bull’s grip and outright dragging her by the chain. With a deft hand she picks up a nearby knife to slice a small cut in her hand so her blood wells richly. Dark, dark red, almost black fluid pools in her palm and with her left hand she picks up the quill, dips it in her daeva blood and in a curly writing signs at the bottom “We have a bargain, darling” she murmurs satisfied once she made a strong line under her signature. With a lick over her hand she closes the wound for ink and drags all the way back to the forge and starts to open the pillory. It’s all too clear she’s been here before. “Oh angel,” she murmurs for the first time to the enslaved creature, “be so kind not to struggle, hm? This will be over soon… and if not, I’ll make you enjoy it.”

Hephaestos examines the signature, and and his claw touches the page, fixing it, binding the pact to Naamah’s animus. She could not break its terms. The idea would be unthinkable. Turning back to the forge, he reached over to one of the racks, glancing as Naamah fixes the angel in the pillory, “THE USUAL, THEN?” taking the dark one’s brand and thrusting it into the forge to heat red-hot.

Angel watches intensely as she sees Naamah picking up the knife and signing her “fate” on the contract which seems to almost react to her blood as she traces words on the paper. Her heart races as she takes in the deep meaning of it while she notices the wound close up so quickly and perks up lifting her chin hearing her name be called for the first time feeling her own body drawn surprisingly to this tanned curvy female which she finds herself strangely attracted to. She finds herself pulled to the pillory and the hands of Naamah on her skin.

Naamah can’t help but chuckle a little at ‘the usual’ and nods in acquiescence while she pushes the girl between the wood and metal. She murrs with excited pleasure when the white one plies herself so easily to her guidance without a hint of force. She grins up at the bull God as if saying “see? not everything needs force,” though she doesn’t actually speaks the words. A quick click of chain coming from the collar, and she moves behind the about-to-be-marked creature. Her breath is heavy with anticipation and she idly lets her hand wander over the girl’s rear, squeezing, pinching, rubbing the tight curvature and dipping her fingers between angelic folds “Ready when you are, darling,” she smiles up at Hephaestos

Hephaestos mere lifts the brand out of the flames, Naamah’s icon glowing near yellow, casting waves of heat and distorting the air around it, pulsing with the power of the god’s forge, the god’s craftsmanship, and the permanence of the god’s works. “THIS IRON BEARS YOUR MARK. AND WHATEVER IT MAY TOUCH SHALL BE BRANDED YOURS, NOW AND UNTIL THE END OF DAYS.” The words fell with the severity of ritual. They were the same words he spoke every time she came. True, the previous girls may not have lasted, corporeally, but even ’til this day, their souls carried her mark.


Angel feels her skin reacts to Naamah’s touch as she had never been touched that way before. Her legs trembling underneath her as she twists her wrists and tries to move her neck but is unable to escape the tight grip of the pillory, its coldness keeping her steady as she first tries to bring her knees together feeling fingers dipping into her most prized and secret folds while once more shivers go along her spine between a mix of tingly taunting pleasure and fear as she starts to give in and opens her legs a little more, fighting her own inner self. She hears each step of the Dark God as she remembers him putting a metal brand into the fire and feels its warmth getting closer to her. Her breathing starts to become erratic matching her increasing heartbeat as fear starts to mix within her too while she takes in the severity of the words said knowing it will seal her to Naamah for much longer than she ever thought she could be given to anyone before.

Naamah inhales deeply, reverently looking up at the tool of power, HER power, imbibed by a God. She feels the heat of it on her face and she smiles triumphantly. With one hand she drives fingers into the angel’s cunt, a slight twist, a curl inside, her thumb hooks in the tight, small sphincter. Entering deep each way, with her free hand she designates the many different spots for her markings. Back, arms, legs, even the girl’s chest won’t be safe from the brand. She growls lowly, the dark tone of sadism emerging from her throat “make her bleed, darling.. make her hurt.. everywhere…” Holding the girl pinned, she offers the body while making herself physically one with the angel, and mentally with the branding iron “..hurt her”

Hephaestos moved impassively, the lowering the brand so the metal’s hot end, began with an experienced movement, taking the brand, diminutive in his hands, and pressing it against the back of her thigh, pressing it in deeply. The air hissed from the burning skin, howling with steam as he looked down impassively, holding the brand there for agonizing seconds that’d seem to pass like years for the bound angel, before he replaced the brand in the forge to reheat. One by one, he repeated the process for each place that Naamah marked, leaving the blonde covered in angry red brands, some charred around the edges, leaving only the marks on her chest left. For these, he handed the iron to Naamah, “FINISH THE WORK.”

Angel holds up a gasp biting her lips together as she feels the fingers entering her at first with a slight pain as the pointy parts of Naamah’s nails teases her entrance. She feels herself tighten on them as in trying to hold them back from going any further within her, but finds herself giving into them as her walls start to feel warmer with need. She then hears the words of “blood and hurt” and starts to shiver not knowing what to focus on while the deep dark tone of Naamah’s voice and closeness gets a hold of her heart. Awaiting, fearing… She can only turn her head enough to see the branding iron makes its way closer to her skin, as she screams loudly to the first contact, her body radiating with intense pain smelling the sizzling flesh as the hot iron brand gets pressed for an agonizing time. Her eyes are crying for relief as her body starts to shake violently against the wooden frame of the pillory trying to escape. But weirdly… She lets out a tiny moan escape her lips as the brand is pulled away from her, making her eyes go wider in surprise as if she was asking for more. She feels each and every new angry brand pushing her deeper into a trance she had never felt before as she finds herself clench even harder on Naamah’s fingers feeling a trickling of her own self following a path down her inner thigh. She tries to catch up her breath as the raging pain iron giving leaves her skin and can barely breathe… trembling like a ragdoll at your both’s mercy…

Romi gasps at the sound of metal hissing along flesh and the angel’s screams. She flinches as she swings, trying to turn herself away from the atrocity being committed, the smell of burnt meat mingling with the room’s normal smell of beast and coal. She whimpers in sympathy thinking the demon’s victim may be receiving worse treatment than she ever had.

Naamah’s eyes flash as she gets the iron, her breath catches and she’s clearly aroused. Her heat doesn’t quite match the branding iron but she’s burning. She watches how the pale, milky skin gets marred with her mark. Charred edges, blood seeps from the wounds when the iron withdraws at each point. She rises to the occasion and when she gets the stave, she moves around, letting the poor girl revel in the pain of the mark. She presses her lush lips to the girl’s eyes and mouth, drinking her pain. And then, she moves below the wretched soul, and with an exact, hard motion presses her mark to the girl’s heart. The reek of burning meat, the perfume of it fills her flaring nostrils and her tail slithers between her own thighs as if outright getting off on claiming this girl as her own. Looking straight into Angel’s eyes, she speaks softly “, you know. This is what it feels like.”

Hephaestos watches impassively, though his eyes dodge up when he hears the gasp from the cage. He raises a clawed hand out toward it, and the ropes, alive under his power, tighten and shift against his plaything’s body, twisting her into a new position. He turns his attention back to the angels, and finally holds out his hand to receive the brand once the ritual had been completed. “IT IS GOOD TO PLEASURE FROM YOUR WORK. BUT DO NOT ALLOW PLEASURE TO BREED CARELESSNESS.” Iron in hand, the god thrust it into the bucket beside the pillory, where it raised a cloud of hissing steam as it finally cooled.

Angel catches the sounds of whimpers of the swaying girl adding to her own as she then feels the fingers leaving her moist folds while the pain takes over her making her gasp and whimpers even louder. She watches Naamah move around her as if she was inspecting her. Pain from her raging flesh can be seen on the small frail features of her face as tears are no longer being held back and starts to drip on the floor underneath her. She notices the stave being passed on as her body tightens hard in preparation to what is to come. She takes a deep breath but finds herself whimpering with an unknown lust to Naamah’s lips on hers and closes her eyes awaiting the next mark, as if her skin was calling for it, accepting her fate. She screams once more even louder knowing her heart to be taken as the flesh sizzles even deeper than before, the smell driving her to oblivion as she feels herself almost fainting and hears the words in echo knowing that she was now given to her. She only hears the blurry sound of the iron brand hissing in the cold water as it was now part of her.

Naamah’s countenance is one of mixed pleasure, pain and orgasm as she drinks in every drop of emotion seeping from her prey and prize. Her claim laid, her ears ringing with screams and moans and her mouth graced with the tears of it all when she licks and kisses the angel’s eyes. The iron handed back, she takes a slow and deep breath. Hands reach under the now truly fallen, taken, and marked one to fondle pert breasts, tugging at the nipples. A soft, warm, sometimes mis-perceived-as-compassionate-kiss that sucks the life out of her enslaved daeva. A light caress “..quiet, precious, the pain is just starting”. And with those words she gets up from under the girl, looks up at Hephaestos and gives the bull a soft nod “..a deal is a deal. She’s yours until she loses consciousness.”

Hephaestos reaches down, taking the clasp of the pillory and flicking it with alarming dexterity for something that appeared so bestial. He gripped the angel about the waist, massive palm pressing into contact with the raw brand, and lifting her up and out as he reached down, pulling away the loin cloth and letting the bones clatter against the floor as his cock began to slide, growing erect out of its sheath, “AND NOW, IT IS TIME FOR PLEASURE.” He stepped over to the slab in the middle of the room, dropping the angel onto it carelessly.


Angel finds herself unable to mumble any audible words as she finds herself going deeper and deeper into oblivion. Her angel wings start to fade away and they slowly get replaced by something else growing into her back. She cries out to the pain once more in one last scream transforming her inner core into the new being she is becoming, and at the mercy of who she feels now a strong connection to as Naamah’s licks her tears away and gasps loudly as she feels her new branded raw skin being touched by this now forever staying within her memories Dark God. Her eyes open up again and widen quickly to notice the growing erected cock now unsheathed from the loin cloth and lets herself being dropped on the cold slab as her body can barely move.

Hephaestos knelt on the altar, and his hands gripped the angel’s head, pulling against the long, mottled-red shaft, letting her feel the forge-like heat that emanated from it, the dull throb like the echoes of hammerblows pulsing even as it pressed against her cheek. The strange, beast-like cock looked like nothing that belonged to man or any one beast, at once equine and canine and who knew what else as it smeared across her lips, tasting at once like ambrosia and acrid grease, “PLEASE YOUR GOD.”

Naamah inhales sharply through her nose. Barely has she claimed the white soul, and she’s already giving it away, yet… the mark works both ways. Any sensation the little daeva feels, she feels too. The cold of the altar, the heat and moisture of the massive bovine cock slithering over the face, the pressure on lips, she feels it all. She swallows hard, it’s close to overwhelming. She shudders and can’t stand the human contraptions of shame anymore. Ripped from her burning skin, her demonic nudity shines with an almost unnatural glisten. Her tail starts to twitch at the sight and feel of it, adding her own sensations to the girl’s, pressing the firm muscle between her thighs and moving up to caress her own breasts. “Please him,” she commands lowly. “Please our God.”

Angel feels the firm grip of the Dark God on her head and the pulsing hot beast-like cock pressing on her cheek. She had never felt or seen such before. Her senses overwhelmed by the pain lingering on her skin and her own curiosity arousing her as she feels the connection to Naamah even stronger than the mere offering of her own fiery, freshly branded skin. She hears her words and as if her own inner voice was telling her to let herself go. She opens her lips wide as much as she possibly can and welcomes the sulfury steaming hot rod between her lips and into her mouth as her eyes move to be fixed on Naamah hoping that her own offering will please the Dark God and her as she starts to let him enter her mouth deeper.

Hephaestos’ cock fills Angel’s lips, the impossible girth forcing her jaw wide, the smith molding her around him in heat and lust as he seems to extend further, pushing down her throat, distending her neck obscenely as he shoves himself deeper into her, violating her physiology as his eyes fixed on her, burning as he only grew girthier. The horned head turned and watched Naamah as she toyed with herself on the sidelines, and the dour deity simply turned back to the work of pleasing himself using the girl before him, occasionally pulling back, letting her adjust to the massive void left by the absence of his cock, only to take the semi-erect shaft and use it to slap it humiliatingly across her face, intoning, “OPEN YOURSELF. BE THE VESSEL OF YOUR GOD.”

Angel feels her lips stretched wide open as she tried to adjust to the widening girth of the massively steamy rod and gags repetitively as it enters her throat deeper. Saliva starting to form coating her mouth slowly as it threatens to leave the corner of her lips with each thrust but helping it slide even deeper as she almost chokes and holds her breath between two growing whimpers starting to be transformed into moans as she feels herself coming undone and her arousal growing noticing Naamah pleasing herself as her own tail folds between her legs touching teasing her folds. Her hand reaches wanting to touch the skin of the Dark God and trail on the skin of his godly balls trying to size them up as she fondles them softly. While she takes a deep breath, a string of saliva hangs from her tongue as she feels the cock pulled out of her mouth and whimpers to the slap but keeps her mouth wide open for the receiving.


Naamah groans and buckles for a moment, her own tail slips to slap her nipple with the spade at the side. There’s no slime on her face, but she feels the wet slickness drip over her cheeks and lips. The stretch, with her mouth closed. The slap… her eyes flutter and she starts to lick her lips, murmuring lowly while she wriggles on the length of her tail “fuck her… fuck her…” It’s as if she intended the deal to be this way, did she trick a god for her insatiable pleasure? Did she use an angel to be her vessel for pleasure? Safety and freedom in one. She’s self-indulgent, grinning, moaning and sighing when she moves in closer, planting herself on the altar, legs spread, and starting to roam freely “…fuck her, my darling.. fuck her like the beast you are”

Hephaestos ‘s bestial precum was already beginning to flow hot and thick, a mere fraction of what he was capable, but already enough to glaze the angel’s face and chin in a frothy white slime, marking her in his own, much less permanent way, though the divine musk was intoxicating, unmistakably wild and at the very same time precisely the smell that frankincense was a pale imitation of. The sound of his breath was as steady as it was when he worked the forge, the low roar of a bellows as he pumped into her, now using her as a cocksleeve as her neck was kept rod-straight by the hard shaft. He was ready, and as her stomach filled with his seed, he began pulling out, the flared head acting like a piston, only to finally pop from her lips in a deluge of white, spilling across the altar. He glanced at the mess, making a mental note to have the plaything in the cage clean it up later. Dragging the angel to the edge of the slab, he positioned her to receive him from behind, and his other hand reached out, claws closing around Naamah’s neck, closing to bring her up to his eye level, “PERHAPS I SHOULD USE YOU, AS WELL.”

Naamah growls and bares her teeth at the god in a vicious snarl. She’ll have the sensation of pleasure and pain, but it’s clear she refuses to pay with her own divine body. Though she has no way to escape the hold she starts to grin “you can’t do what I didn’t sign up for, darling” Triumph echoes in her voice, “you’re bound by my blood. Fuck her. If you want to fuck me, you better be fucking her well… you know I’ll feel it, my lovely, lovely bull.” She caresses the soft nose, maybe the only soft thing on the God’s body “..fuck her like you’d fuck me.”

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Angel notices Naamah move closer, her sultry smell getting mixed with the Dark Lord opening her connection to the both of them together to her, as if she could share what she was feeling and be a vessel not only for his pleasure but also Naamah’s which in turn drives her wilder in surprising little moans leaving her lips onto the massive cock. Her own tail starts to flick her clit as Naamah’s words enter her… She feels the hot and thick bestial precum reaching the inside of her mouth, throat and the now massaging cock sleeve that was made out of her, feeding her. Such gift from a God making her moist folds clench her inside even more, forgetting her pain as it becomes mixed with pure pleasure. She whimpers loudly as the pop sound of the godly cock leaves her mouth watching the white cream spill over the altar and moans for more as she feels herself moved around, her fears diluting with needs as if Naamah was transmitting her lust for the Dark God through her too and opens her legs wide, her eyes deeply focused on Naamah with lust and opened, drool-smeared lips.

Hephaestos ‘s flared cockhead forces into Angel’s body, pressing its massive girth against her delicate folds, spreading them taut around the shaft as he begins to thrust into her, and almost impossibly, the base grows wider into a thick, canine-like knot, spreading her wider and wider as he gripped Angel by the waist, forcing her onto him, claws digging into her flesh to blood, even as his grip tightened around Naamah’s neck, “DO NOT PRESUME THAT YOUR BLOOD CAN BIND A SON OF ZEUS. WHAT SHOULD BE DONE WITH YOU HAS NO BEARING ON THE OATH YOU SIGNED.” The god then lowered her mere inches, planting her plump ass on the slab in front of Angel, pinning her back against the slab as he fucked Naamah’s newly branded pet.

Naamah meets her enslaved’s eyes, though it’s a question who’s slave to what at this point. Her sensation connected to the succumbing whore in spiritual chains. Sclera, dark pools shift to the God, her mouth open and lips trembling with pleasure at the massive stretch of her divine cunt. She’s dripping in full view without a hint of inhibition. This is her territory. This is her power, this is her energy. This is her lust. She grins wildly at the bull while her fingers dig into her physique, mimicking the actual feeling, though she can’t even compare. She murmurs and sighs in ecstasy “…not this time, my darling Lord.. give it to her, you’ll give it to me..” She starts to shift towards her pet daeva, her soaking cunt’s scent filling the air around her face while she keeps her eyes locked with the bull “ know I feel everything.. fuck her harder..”

Angel cries out as she feels the massive godly shaft enter her, each thrust opening her up even more as a mix of her wetness starts to puddle up on the floor with a new smell of blood from the tight grip starts to be felt in the air. She looks deeply within Naamah as she feels the canine like knot gripping onto her insides and hears the solemness of the precious words throughout her body resonating. She arches her back as if offering herself even more, feeling the needs of Naamah, her growing lust, energy, smell, and that spiritual elevating almost carnal chain deepening. She feels the need to pull Naamah closer as she tries to push onto the cock locking herself deeper onto it and wraps her wings around Naamah pulling her closer as she wished to taste her.

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Hephaestos’ grip pressed more of his unfathomable weight onto the dark angel’s neck, dragging her toward her pet’s mouth, and his cock continued to abuse Angel’s cunt, stretched as it was beyond the minute, the precum already spilling out of her as she was wrapped taut around him, anointing her thighs with more and more of his thick sauce. He was old, however, and wise, and his clawed finger drifted over the pale skin, before finding one of the sore, open brands, and he dug it in, forcing the pain along the connection, as purely and unfiltered as it were being dug straight into Naamah’s spine.

Naamah’s hot, wet lips part like an orchid, dripping with her creamy honey. Thighs widen even more to receive that angelic, bull-cum-covered face between her nether lips. Her tail shifts underneath, caressing the pet’s tits as they sway back and forth with the force of thrusts and then she starts crying out in pain. Her back arches as the pain of the brand reaches her spine and thick tears stream over her cheeks. Her mouth wide open in her shrill, sharp harpie’s scream that as soon as the sensation calms, turns into a wild growl and moan “oh… fuck.. you BEAST!” Her clit swells even thicker to press into her angel’s mouth, coating the slave’s mouth with her wine

Angel flinches to the clawed finger digging into the fresh brand on her over sensitive raging skin, and whimpers loudly in pain while she finds herself surprised to almost “cum” undone at the same time. Moaning licking, dribbling on Naamah’s moist lips as she pressed her tongue finding flickering her erected engorged little nub passing on that pain and pleasure to her being at service to the both of you, giving into the connection as she pushes against the Dark God driven by the wet sounds, the feel of his balls slapping her folds, and her inner walls starting to be coated of precum feeling it covering her thighs. She brings one of her hands to her tits pressing them together allowing Naamah’s tail to rest between them almost as if she wished to massage it there, taking the both of you in her that way too. She grins as she taste Naamah’s gifted wine and slurps it as she starts to purr deeper.

Hephaestos’ bovine lips split, and he offered terrifying laughter, a sound that shook the walls and brought dust down from the rafters, as he continued filling the white-haired angel, distending her unnaturally as his throbbing shaft filled her with a heat that would rival the very brand that had marked her, his claw twisting in the brand to send new fresh waves of agony through to the presumptuous succubus being drawn into his pleasuremaking. His balls slapped pendulously against her, and his grip tightened sadistically about Naamah’s neck. Angel was merely a conduit, to be sure, but the smith-god would be cast into Tartarus before he let Naamah dictate exactly what she would receive.


Naamah howls between pleasure and pain. The mixture of the full sensation of bull cock, the mouth, the tongue, the need, the grind, the chokehold on her neck the searing scratch across her back… she rides her cunt wildly over her pet’s face and within moments starts to gush and squirt her release over the angel’s face. Only a God would know how to get her off like this and even in extreme torture and pain, it’s *her* who made the best bargain. She’s panting as more of her orgasmic fluid spatters on the girl’s face while she holds the gaze of her favorite God – not because she feels she owns him, but because she is in utter, complete admiration, even if he doesn’t realize it. Her body shudders and quakes and another orgasm rushes through her, creating a puddle of cum on the altar. Panting hard, her face contorted in pain and pleasure, her tongue practically hanging out like a bitch’s, she howls with more release, citing her incantation “..more, whore, more… twitching make me cum with thee body, rub me raw!”

Angel feels the laughter go through her bones as the heat that is filling inside grows hotter almost as if she was the be branded that way too and cries out again to the clawing pressing her lips and suckling on Naamah’s wine as it would be a healing source for her while she feels the grip of the Dark God hand making her almost unable to breathe as if his hand was around her neck too mixed with the feeling of being so full and stretched inside. She feels herself closer to gush her own juices over what is no longer even feeling like a cold slab underneath her, but an erupting volcano of deep lust and carnal sensations, as she drinks Naamah’s squirting gift and only takes a moment to lick her lips. She moves her hand to thrust her finger inside Naamah, pumping her as if the Dark God was within her just like she is feeling him inside of her, twisting, locking deep inside her walls. Pumping her and moaning on her clit.



Hephaestos ‘s cock seemed to throb with an even more insistent cadence, the blacksmith’s hammer becoming more like a jackhammer as he seemed to be drawing closer to some sort of unthinkable climax, and there was yet another line to be crossed, and his godly strength reached to pull Naamah around, his balls strafing across her face as he knelt up, squatting as his cock drew out of Angel’s cunt and left it slack and distended, leaking his seed. The flared head now pressed against the tight pucker of her asshole, and the slick length began to invade her, drawing her cheeks apart with its sheer girth, pulling on her tail to prevent her any route or thought of escape other than accepting the impossible shaft inside her.

Naamah stays locked in a wild maelstrom of sensation, starting to lose herself. No safer place than in the hands of Hephaestos, no more power than she owns right now. Her body slave to the pleasure, her mind melding with her pet, subduction, submission, power, hunger sating, she bucks her hips and outright spurts her wine once more. Her gush spatters over face and hair, washing the previous cream and minotaurial slime off her angel’s face. She’s sinking deep and she’s allowing it, she might lose everything here, and yet, she knows she won’t. Now turned, accepting of her fate and losing herself in the submission to the Dark God of Power, she lets her body ply to the bull’s pleasure. Her face rubs liberally between those pendulous balls, face coating with his his cum. Her hands keep her pet’s ass spread open and wide, watching when she can, sucking and licking along shaft and testes when she can’t. She’s turning into the slut she truly is.



Angel cries out some more to the assault stretching her even further as if the dark Lord could reach our of her that way. Her pussy filled to the brim and feels him pull out the steaming air rushing inside of her leaving her wide open unable to close up her folds completely as her pussy twitches. She drinks once more from Naamah whimpering loudly and leaking juices and creamy godly seed over Naamah’s face as she now feels her underneath her. The hands of Naamah taking over her and offering her ass making her shiver as her little star starts to twitch knowing what may come and she places her hands on top of Naamah’s as if she was offering herself to the both of you. She’s becoming the devilish hungry Angel she never knew she might become. As if she was joining Naamah in her transformation too, freed by the Dark God.

Hephaestos pushed harder, the shaft self-lubricating with the grease-like precum, and his balls fell heavily across Naamah’s face, dragging along her as he grabbed onto Angel’s shoulders, taking the branded angel further, her sphincter stretched into a white ring around his shaft, and each new vein fought to thrust past the tight barrier, the shaft snaking up inside her, distending her yet once more, until the knot began to fill and stretch her beyond any reasonable limit. And with one experimental probing done, he began to thrust again and again, pistoning inside her with animal intensity, his weight pressing down on both of them as his claws dug into Naamah’s thighs. The connection being what it was, the pain transferred freely between both angels, connected in a maelstrom of pleasure and pain. “SHOW YOUR GOD YOUR PLEASURE. BEG FOR HIS BLESSING.”

Naamah ‘s long tongue lashes the dripping folds over her face, extending along those godly balls, tickling the godly blessing from them between panting breaths. Her hips roll and rub against the angel’s face, pushed between her thighs. She feels that massive cock cram into her ass and she squirms and cries and growls all at once. Everything becomes a haze – this is what she exists for. Pure, unadulterated pleasure in any form. She loosens herself, carnal desire unleashed in its purest form. There is no boundary anymore. There is no concept to comprehend. In pure divinity she writhes below it all, carrying the weight of immortality and all the delicious burdens that it brings. She screams her lust into her angel’s cunt, watching how that massive cock crams into the white ass, *her* ass. She’s wild and without a moment of hesitation sinks into another orgasm, roaring like the bestial succubus she is. Wings fold around her marked pet, clawing and clamping the lithe body to her lushness, They are one, and she revels in every sensation. She plateaus on her orgasm, waiting for the lift to the next level and release

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Angel feels her body tightening on top of Naamah as she feels pressed down on the lava heated rod and cries out feeling the tight sphincter almost ripped opened. Stretched as she massages the snaking shaft inside of her unexplored heated hungry walls, and feels the knot fill and lock in her once more as the thrusts begin almost pushing her out of balance as her shoulders presses on the tight grip. She lowers her lips on Naamah’s folds opening them up, locking on her clit suckling it as her tail moves over her back passing her head and starts to enter Naamah to further the connection. Probing, pushing, as if the Dark God was. She feels as if Naamah’s cream was filling her cunt receiving her gift and accepting her ownership, and starts to beg in between loud moans..”Please allow me to receive your blessing Dark God” as she is no longer materialized in this world; just sensation.

Hephaestos ‘s nails dig into her legs, until finally, he rolls his head, surprisingly bullish in the dour, stoic deity, and he pulls out of the strained tightness of Angel’s ass, flipping her over, arranging her next to her putative owner, as if petty distinctions of property mattered to a god. His shaft rose before them like a gargoyle as he squatted over them, stroking himself. The waves of heat blasted the pair as they lay beneath his massive thighs, a pool of dribbling spooge already pooling on Angel’s stomach as he stroked to finally drain his divine sac of everything it held back.


Naamah holds her pet in compassionate embrace. Both wings and arms claiming her close to Her. Her tongue extends as both their bodies are pressed together in anticipation, and then.. Mouths open instinctively to receive the rare blessing. Pulled together, a large target of curves and mouths and eyes, heat washes over her as the first spurts of divine seed shower her ample tits and reveling face. Eyes flutter and close and with the double sensation of heat and slick slimy cum, she shudders and squirms in the hold of the Dark God of Power. She sways and claims and humbles herself before it and dies a little death in sheer ecstasy.

Angel whimpers feeling herself now dripping from her ass too as her gaping hole joins her twitching cunt unable to hold for much longer. Not knowing if she should, she lets herself be guided, trembling as she feels Naamah’s arms and wings envelop her. Her heart responds drawn to her by entwining her wings with hers, accepting and wanting her fate to be within her hands. She feels the jets of hot steamy godly cream starting to cover her skin and smiles to the divine God understanding the meanings of it as she then starts to cover herself with her fingers trailing and smearing it over her brand between her breasts, feeling the sting of it as if it was the seal that she needed. She brings some of it to her lips coating them and looks at Naamah deeply leaning over to kiss her and share that godly precious gift.


Hephaestos groaned as he came hard, glazing both light and dark angels with his musky divine seed, ambrosia-tasting, a heavenly reward for the painful labors that brought them there. The copious bounty came like a spurting hose, and his balls jerked and shuddered as he pumped the seed across their bodies, finally leaning back to sit on his calves, pun certainly not intended. A sigh of satisfaction escaped the god’s lips, his shaft falling limp before the angels, “IT IS DONE.”

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Naamah’s mouth melds with her angel’s, her daeva, her pet, her enslaved extension of cunt, ass, tits and mouth. The blessing of seed showered, shared between lips and faces. Bodies rub together, as she revels in wings and tails entangling like tongues, merging to drown in the cream of the God of Power. Her body trembles with something… new. The feeling of compassion, the feeling of unison. It’s as if the curse of selfishness and individual need has been shattered. Not that it truly had – she could ever let go of the selfish pleasure, but a seed is planted that might one day grow to a being that might cast shade on her former presence.

Angel purrs to the groans feeling the tingly yummy waves wash over her as her eye closes a little revering in the covering of her skin with Godly seed, forever thankful for such gift, completely forgetting her initial fear as she wiggles a little on top of the Dark God trembling a bit but this time proudly to the fresh brands, and entwines her wings and tail with Naamah’s wanting to feel close. She takes in the words deeply and lets a smile leave her lips as her lips still feel Naamah’s melding into hers, sharing what truly now feels like a very special gift, embracing this new side of herself, as if she was reborn.. new.

Naamah merges with divinity of both. No marking is done without leaving a mark, but this one lifted her from something dark into something lighter, despite the intent. She crawls up and wraps her wings around the god and girl, sinking into both in a moment of immortal vulnerability


Hephaestos stretches catlike across the slab, grimacing as he feels the pooled fluids beneath him, but finally relenting, letting the sticky, bruised and burnt angels crawl up onto his lap, the steady rhythm of his breath blowing warm steam down upon their heads as the cheery crackling of the forge suddenly becomes audible as the frenetic noise of fornication gave way to post coital silence.

Angel feels as if her marks were reacting to the mere close presence of Naamah as if her whole body and soul now belonged to her and even more.. the seed inside her heart already making its roots, as she fully lets herself relax in the heat and now felt protection of the both of you.


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