Birth was a glorious and beautiful event to witness no matter how it occurred. It was also a most unusual spectator sport for a Demon to partake in. No matter how a birth took place this particular Demon Lord enjoyed each and every occurrence he was privy to witness. There were numerous ways in which the creatures were born, but it remained ever unchanged that birth itself was a unique event. It was through birth that something was made that had never existed before. It was a unique kind of thrill to watch the very first breath, hear the first sound, and to see the first feeble movements made by freshly formed limbs. Even if the creature was covered in blood, sticky embryonic fluids, or spiritual residues it didn't matter. Birth was glorious and beautiful.
That was why he was most pleased on this day, for today he was the one who had initiated the birth of a brand new creature into existence in the central depths of Inner Hell. His lower Minions, dumb and stupid beasts that were only a vague imitation of a humanoid form had brought him a guardian angel. A parasitic Celestial that couldn't live long without a human's life force to share, they had taken it instead of its host when the human had inadvertantly summoned them to him. While stupid, they did understand that any Celestial being was a prize that their master would reward them for if they brought it to him. It was the purest Celestial that the young Demonic Lord had encountered, and he had given the minions that had brought it to him the power to go to Middle World and do as they wished with two unprotected Humans as a reward for their tribute. The one the Celestial had tried to protect would live, though how long without the protection of a Guardian was none of his concern. Perhaps his pawns would go back for it. It mattered not to him. What was the object of his pleasure, his obsession, were the antics of the Guardian after what he had vested upon its pure and gloriously bright form.
It writhed and struggled, mouth gaping as it fought the power of Birth, something much stronger than any pure Celestial nature could ordain in all of the planes of the Three Worlds. It fought valiantly against the almighty power that was so much greater than itself, but rebirth was the ultimate form of birth in all of existence.
A shift occurred, and with that shift the Celestial Guardian convulsed in startling grandiose jerks. He smiled in pleasure at the pain it suffered. All it had taken to start the rebirth was a simple tryst. Now with his essence set deep within its body, he could watch the loss of purity as the demon's own darkness spread throughout that brilliantly beautiful body, and forging it into something far more mysterious and wonderful.
The angel tried to get up, blindly seeking an escape, its glowing soft wings held up at an odd angle as it struggled to make them move as it held its throat, gagging and gasping. Such resistance was thwarted when its body entered another set of convulsions, forcing it back down onto the furs that covered the large bed in the darkened bedchamber. Moist sweat began to prickle along newly formed skin. Veins started to bulge in outlines against their cage of flawless porcelain where they rested over sinewy muscles that began to take shape. Their accented appearance revealed the creature's raised heart rate and elevated blood pressure as the wonderful crimson fluid that marked life began to flow through that celestial body that was no longer so ethereal and untouchable. The stresses of becoming something substantial showed in the angel's beautifully pained expression. No birth or rebirth was complete without pain, its price being a toll to be paid for passage into life. Agonized, it opened its mouth to cry out, but only a strangled croaking sound crawled forth through the newly formed trachea, white perfect teeth parting and a bit of saliva escaping as its a divine body continued to change.
Its wings shoot up suddenly to stand strait from its boney back made lithe by no work applied to the new born muscles. They stretched and wavered, almost pulsating as the white feathers that were so clear and bright began to shed that brilliance. They darkened first to gray, then changed clear glass to a an milky opaque, then finally to a solid shimmering obsidian black. They flapped then, beating against the bed uselessly. Hands tangled in incredibly long pale yellow hair, pulling, trying to understand why there was now pain, feeling, air, and sensation. There were only a few quick, short, startled breaths before it threw back its head and screamed out a sobbing heart broken cry that ripped its way free of the chest that now held it so firmly in place.
The cry of a newborn Fallen was always a glorious if sorrowful sound filled with music and holy promise as it played itself across the ears of those that heard it. It was a pitiful song of loss, rebirth, need, and of one wish to go back to how the angel had been before it knew it needed more than the light of the world and the life of the living. But it would never be like that ever again.
The Demon that had gifted the Guardian with such a fate closed his feline-like crimson gold hued eyes, savoring the melody hidden in the saddened sound. Looking down with a contented sigh at the newborn creature he was disappointed to see that the body had taken a male shape. He would have preferred female, but a Fallen was a Fallen, and they were a priceless prize for any demon to own. The Guardian was no longer a Celestial Guardian, but a perverted creature that was neither holy nor demonic in its nature.
It was utterly beautiful.
The melodic scream died away, and his newly reborn Minion slowly folded up on the furs, knees drawn below his belly as he folded his arms about himself and began to cry. His was heart completely broken, and it showed with the dejected way in which it allowed its beautiful shimmering ebony wings to hang loosely from its shoulders and across the bed like yet another exotic fur to sleep upon. Those now black wings were exquisite and far more glorious than the shimmering white diamond things they had been before.
Satisfied with what he had been allowed to see, the Demon Lord lifted himself from where he rested a mere arm's length away from his newborn Minion with a fluid grace typical to all higher-end demons. He moved to crouch on the soft mattress beside his Fallen, embracing it tenderly as any parent would do their own flesh and blood. Those still so very slight shoulders went stiff instantly at the feel of his touch, the musical weeping halting as fear laced up and down the creature's spine, delicious in its wonderfully intoxicating flavor that filled his sinuses and coated his tongue.
"There, there," he said to sooth the new-reborn. "Why so sad? Now you can feel everything that the worlds has to offer, the High, the Middle, and the Lower where you will now dwell."
The shoulders shook again, and he heard the Fallen sniffle, a girlish gesture, but expected from a creature that had only just received his masculinity. "W-why?" he asked in the most beautiful of heart broken voices.
The Demon smiled coldly as he gazed into those water-filled blue eyes that stared up at him brokenly. "Because...," he began, but trailed off as a thought entered his mind as he looked at those beautiful eyes. His Fallen Minion was a new-reborn, weak and defenseless, so he chose instead to act on his desires that had been stirring since he had first initiated the rebirth. Grabbing that chin that had turned those sparkling eyes on him he held that face still by its jaw and kissed deeply those lips that had trembled with barely tamed tears.
The Fallen Guardian tried to fight him, to pull away, to escape, but he couldn't. The Demon that had re-birthed him was much stronger and in more control of his body than the minutes old fledgling. He had all the hard planes of muscle needed to control physical power while the defiled Angel was still the boney yet delicate build of its ethereal incarnation minus the divine strength and sexless shape it had once been. The Demon Lord forced his new Minion onto his back, still keeping their open mouths bound together. His long tongue licked deeply past those perfect white teeth held apart by his firm grip on the reflex point of that still so finely built jaw. The remaining purity in the Celestial's being was most delicious, and he lapped greedily at it as he settled his body to lie over the length of the other's.
Shifting just a little to get the angle just right, he then began to grind his groin against that of the slim toneless body beneath him. He felt it respond quickly, and he savored getting the first arousal out of him. He felt that heat press against the abdomen beneath him as his own pushed on his Minion's belly. The Demon Lord released his firm grip on the jaw, relishing in how the fallen angel wouldn't turn away. It was still too new to the demands of desire, the beckoning of lust, and the heated drives of sex. The Fallen kissed back, sucking on his tongue with the eagerness of a babe to its mother's tit, embracing it as his body rose to meet his maker's, dancing so that they each caressed each other with heated flesh in subtle yet undeniable strokes.
The Demon needed to stop, so he drew back, but was thoroughly pleased that the body under his own still moved, wanting him to come back, to continue what he had started and not finished. "Because," he began again, "I have never had the pleasure of owning a new-reborn Fallen that I could call my own." He traced a line from the Fallen's jaw and down to his collarbone. "I have longed for an Celestial to make mine. It is any Demon's dream to own one within their Legion ranks." His clawed hand came back up and caressed the face staring up at him, the angel's cheeks flushed and eyes searching his expression, trying to understand everything that was being said with the new world view that was completely alien to his comprehension. "And now...," he went on to say, his voice husky with all the promises of what he planned to do to his new Minion for his pleasures and to train him, "I have you, my Fallen, and you have me, your Master."
"Do not... say that," his offspring said weakly, trying to be fierce, but unable to stop his body from its insistent rocking up against the demon that continued not to move. "Do not dirty my existence by saying such a damning thing."
"But I am your Master now. Your wings and your body's new needs are proof of that," the Demon said, leaning up and over the angel below him. "You have fallen, poor Celestial Guardian. It's your own fault, too. You didn't bother to fight against the Demon that fucked you. Now you have been planted with my seed, my power, the power of a Mortal Sin Lord, and changed into something more... desirable."
"No... no!" the former angel shouted, trying to get up, but the Demon moved quickly to hold him down with a firm grip on his neck, giving him his first taste of pain outside of that which came with his birth. He leaned over him, balanced on his knees as he watched his Minion's antics as he struggled against the pain. The reflex to kick and relieve the pressure activated for their first time, his hands going to his throat trying to relieve the pressure that cut off the air that he now needed. "I have not," he gasped through the narrowed opening of his throat, "fallen...!"
"You have not?" the Demon asked in an almost curious manner, leaning a little off of his angel's throat but still keeping his hand there, ready to stop him from running away. "If that is true," he said slowly, "then if I do... this...," he said, moving with his words as he lowed his free hand and began to message the hardened length, "you should not react, correct?"
The hands that had once been pulling on the arm to force it to release him now tightened from the shock of the sensation and touch that the demon brought forth from the new depths of the angel's existence. Watching, the Demon savored seeing him throw his head back, a groaning, needy cry flying forth from his constricted throat as his back arched with feet driving into the ground to lift hips. He fell back heavily from the shock, but there was only a momentary pause before his body, acting on the newly formed instincts began bucking his slim hips in time with the hand's motions. They met each stroke, rising and falling in the most wonderful primitive manner the Demon had ever seen. He watched the face below his closely, witnessing the new tears that formed and his spilled over, leaving shimmering trails down the corners of his eyes and into his hair, but even as he wept, the Fallen's hips still moved, and he permitted his Master to do as he pleased to his body as he wept from his helplessness to resist such animalistic reflexes.
"If you are not a Fallen this would not feel so pleasurable," he said, breathless at the sexual display he was bringing forth, his own needs greedy, but knowing that there was a point to be made.
"G-good? This perversity?" the angel stammered.
"Yes, it is perverse," the Demon said huskily, never slowing or easing back, aiming only to make the angel reach his peak. "But it is in possession of its own sacred code. Sex creates bonds that can not be broken by scriptures, by words, or by time. When sex is acted out, enjoyed, and taken, it leaves a bit with each of those that participated in it, be it in the form of a child, a disease, a lingering sensation, or just a tiny bit of fluid that is forgotten once it leaves the body."
With a cry the Fallen began to flex harder, rising to meet the hand with more fervor as he came closer to his edge.
"That's right," the demon whispered, grinning wickedly as he followed the pace set by his captive. "Surrender to it. Let sensual pleasure take you over. I'm ready for you to come for me. Go on, and do not be afraid."
Surprisingly, the angel didn't cry out as he reached his limit with only a few more strokes and those encouraging words. He didn't struggle or thrash, but instead went incredibly stiff, thrusting and then holding that pose against the hand that held him so firmly. He seemed to hold his breath, his body shivering as the first release of his essence shot forth and landed on his abdomen and stomach in a smear of creamy white that mocked the purity the angel's wings had once had. It was followed by another shortly after with a few more encouraging pumps to aid it, and then a small excess before the climax ended.
The being that had once been what humans called a guardian angel, what was properly known as a Guardian Celestial, started to cry softly, laying limply, hands to each side of his head, but unable to deny that it had felt incredible to experience the ecstasy.
"Do you understand now?" he asked, thoroughly pleased to have seen the Fallen's first climax.
"Yes... I do," the angel said brokenly, fresh tears falling from those beautiful, now dull eyes, chest rising and falling deeply as he caught his breath, sweat running down the smooth perfectly white skin.
"Yes, I do... what?" the Demon prompted patiently but without any lack of demand.
"Yes, I do understand, Ma... Master," the angel corrected, stammering over the title and the humiliation that saying such a thing implied a truth that he wished with all of his heart wasn't so.
"Very good," the Demon said with great pleasure. "I think you will be a good Minion with time, so I will grant you a deal, if you would like to hear its conditions?"
"What...?" Some of the old life leaked back into those broken eyes. "What kind of deal... Master?" the beautiful broken Fallen asked quietly.
The demon ran the hand that had left such beautiful bruises on that slim neck down that innocent face that he knew wouldn't stay so fine for long. It would only be a matter of time before the scrawny body gained strength under his guidance and commandments and become his own carnation of sensual pleasures. "If you can survive one hundred years with me, without ever leaving Hell, and do absolutely everything that I command you to do, I will release you to the Middle World."
"Earth?" the other's voice questioned with the undertones of its hope getting defeated evident. "Why there? That place is so full of filth and sin."
His temper flaring at such an offhand refusal, the Demon leaned close, and with a little concentration worked his mind around his Fallen's, taking control over the body and commanding his Minion with wordless soul consuming force. The sensation of having such utter control over a being so powerless to battle him aroused the beast further, especially since he had yet to sate his own urges. Smiling coldly, he pressed that need heavily into the Fallen's mind and using his abilities to build within him an urge to satisfy his master when so ever the demon needed it.
The gasp and the feel of those arms suddenly coming around him was a wonderful thing to feel as those perfect, callous free hands wrap about his shoulders. Not even knowing why he was doing it the angel's legs drew upward, exposing his body and letting the demon rest the tip of his heat at the tight opening that lay there.
"Are you saying you want to stay here with me, my Fallen one?" the Demon Lord asked, pressing his needs deeper and harder into the angel's being and commanding him to sate him yet also not allowing his body and mind to understand how he could help his master. He used that lack of knowledge to torment the new-reborn beneath him, pressing the need more and more powerfully into him with each second that passed. "Do you truly desire to stay with me forever? That would be a wonderful thing for me indeed, to have your constant companionship at my side."
The Fallen began to weep once again as the need to sate his master but not knowing how began to overwhelm him. The Demon wasn't surprised by this at all, and expected there would be many more tears to come as time passed and he worked to bring those tears forth for his own amusement and pleasure. However, for now, they were truly piteous if beautiful things.
"Saddened once again I see. So you would like to accept my deal?" he asked, proposing the offer once more.
"Yes," the trembling voice replied.
"Yes what?" the Demon asked harshly, pressing harder than before to an agonizing breaking point in the Fallen's mind that almost caused insanity. He was most displeased that he hadn't learned the first time to use the title shared between them.
"Again," he commanded. As punishment he pressed harder on the other's mind, driving deep into it and bringing primal instincts that were usually easy to control atop those that were typical to a human-shaped body.
"N-no, please stop it!" the Fallen Celestial pleaded, his mind turning to a jumble in the tightened fist of his master.
"Please stop it, what?" he demanded.
"Lord F-father, please...!" the former Guardian pleaded, surprising the demon with the new title he hadn't meant to teach him. "I beg of you, Father. No more. Please... Just let me sate you... please... my Master, please...!"
Aroused by the new title, to be called 'father', and loving it, the Demon Lord tangled his fingers into his Fallen's hair. He pulled the head to the side, exposing his neck and the panicked pulse that jumped there, pumping the new, pure yet tainted blood through newborn veins. He opened his mouth wide, and as he drove down upon that pulse, piercing his long canines through the jugular and to the carotid artery he pressed his hips forward hard so that he entered the body beneath him with one, agonizing thrust.
The angel screamed in pain, a beautiful form of music that left all other glorious screams behind. Ignoring the other's pain, the Demon Lord thrust into the other's body in time with his gulps of that pure, perfect blood. He drank as mercilessly as he pounded into the other's body with abandon. After so long of denying himself it was only a bare minute of thrusting and swallowing before he came heavily into the deep heated tightness of the Fallen's body. At the same time the once nearly drowning flow of blood began to slack. The thin arms that had embraced him grew weak in their hold, and fell to the angel's sides heavily with no power to lift them any longer.