Beautiful Rebirth

"Fa... ther... I'm... sorry," the angel said weakly, his head lulling like a living doll's from the anemia. "I will... obey... you... Lord Father...."

Drawing his fangs from the large blackened bruise of a wound on the angel's neck, he licked at the trickles of blood that still seeped from the puncture wounds he had made with his fangs. The angel whimpered, another delightful sound to his ears, but he ignored it, licking in long strokes filled with sensuality, savoring the torment he had successfully inflicted upon the other. He didn't stop until the skin beneath his rough tongue was no longer the smooth perfection it was, becoming irritated to the point that blood would have beaded there if there had been any blood left in the one beneath him.

Finally satisfied both sadistically and sexually for the moment, the Demon held his offspring to him as he rolled over, aware that one of the angel's wings were trapped under his back, their bodies still tied together from their session. It would take time for his knot to slacken enough so that he could separate from his victim, but there was plenty of time for that to be accomplished. He was far from being done with his Fallen. Almost tenderly, he guided the head back up and kissed him. The lips above his moved weakly, but tried to obey the unspoken order presented to them and kiss back. He drew the face up from his, smiling at the heavy lidded eyes that looked down at him, waiting and ready to obey.

"It pleasures me that your punishment is not yet completed," he told the angel in an almost parental way. Leaning his head back, he brought his clawed fingers up and punctured his own jugular, though he left his own carotid artery alone. "I took your blood, so replenish yourself with mine." He released the angel's head and it lulled against his shoulder, his cheek pressing against the wound he had inflicted upon himself.

"Yes, Father. As... you wish," the angel answered in a subdued whisper without any hesitation.

The Demon basked in the utter obedience that radiated from the mind he held tight in the bindings of his own. Hesitant lips opened and a tongue that became sealed between lips start to lap at the small wound. Very quickly the Fallen grew needy, drinking and suckling more and more deeply on the Demon's neck, devouring his blood and taking it into his own body. Its power radiated through him, devouring parts of his purity that had yet to be touched, but he no longer cared. The Demon Lord could felt his Fallen's mind narrow to three thoughts: obey Father and sate Father and he will reward you with his blood.

'Obey my Lord Father and sate His needs and He will reward me with the gift and power of His blood.'

That was all the thought that dwelled in the Fallen's mind now.

The Demon Lord purred with eyes closed, feeling his tied length grow fully firm once again as the body above him gulped loudly and begin to actually move so that it slid along his master's length. Groaning and aroused, it was at that point that the Demon Lord spoke the claiming name of his Fallen, binding it to him firmer than chains without locks. It was a simple name with no real meaning save to him with an oriental touch to fit the girlish looks of his Fallen.

He felt the scream of his child, his Minion, his Fallen, vibrate on his neck as his body once again began to shift from the demonic blood that began to flow through nearly empty veins as well as the binding of the name that was whispered into his ear. Even as the pain came, and the screams grew desperate, the addiction was set. Hands became clawed, wing feathers stiffened into metallic plates, and even then the Fallen couldn't stop drinking the blood and fucking his father.

Demons rarely lied, and this one had meant what he said about letting the Fallen go if he met all the requirements proposed, but the punishment would make life in the Middle World, worse than what the noble of the Lower World had in store. He hadn't told his Minion that the only food he would be given would be demonic blood. Such a potent substance was addictive to the point of utter dependency, with no hope of weaning free of it. The spell of a binding name only served to intensify it, as well as make it nearly impossible for the Fallen to disobey his Master... his Father.

He now owned a newly reborn Fallen, and he would keep him for as long as he continued to exist.