The Tower of Trials

She didn't seem to be doing much, though.

At least, not much besides turning to face him as he circled her. Ritten wasn't much for direct confrontation. A thief never was, as his training had revealed, but even a cursory examination revealed that she was on perpetual guard. Sort of hard not to be when the room seemed all but empty besides the two of them.

She didn't seem altogether hostile, though. A bit prickly, certainly, but. Maybe she could be communicated with? There was no rule saying that they couldn't talk. He'd just be careful to try and avoid the wiles she may or may not have.

Ritten called out, perhaps a bit hesitantly, and asked if she was to be his opponent.

She answered with a haughty scoff. "Of course," she bellowed, her voice like thunder. "This is to be your trial, the means by which your worth is assessed by the powers above and below!" Her posture -- already impressively formal -- straightened further, and she raised her shield and spear to the heavens. "Though my dignity's tarnished and my virtue stained indelibly black, I'll not betray the station I've been thusly assigned! A fallen angel I may be, but I'm an angel nonetheless!"

"And you," she continued, leveling her spear-point at Ritten with a sneer, "are a thief." The fires of her eyes narrowed to seething slits, and Ritten took a cautious step backwards. "The kind of vile rat who's better suited to skulking amidst shadows than meeting the honest blade of one such as myself."

But she had a spear, not a sword.

"I know that!" She boomed, shaking the room with her fervor. "To constrain one's self to the literal is folly, and it shall serve you, foul thief, poorest of all! For you shall only unlock the secrets of the priesthood of the church by passing my sacred trial!"

For the first time since he'd laid eyes upon her, the fallen angel smiled at Ritten. It was one utterly devoid of warmth, one that dripped with smug self-satisfaction. She raised her spear and shield into the air, whereupon they vanished in sparkles.

"You, poor, sorry thief, must steal something from me if you're to become a priest," she snickered. Arms crossed beneath what promised to be an impressive bust, the fallen angel regarded him coolly. "Something precious, indeed."

Well. Ritten couldn't possibly guess what it was. He was, after all, a thief, not a scholar. Not one very good at riddles, either.

Arms suddenly spread, the fallen angel stepped forward. Teeth bared as a wolf's fangs in a predatory smile, she continued. "You must steal...my heart!"

Her heart?

"My heart! For it is not enough that a thief's fingers be nimble! If he is to succeed as a priest, he must exhibit the cunning guile necessary to bed a demon...for his might's scant enough to do so!" She cocked her head to the side and jutted her chin outwards, prideful to a fault. The smile, of course, never left her lips. "To that end, Thief Ritten, self-proclaimed 'champion' of the downtrodden, raper of pursestrings!"

Her nostrils flared, and Ritten was not five steps from pissing himself as she shouted at him.

"Seduce me!"

This was where he died. Struck dead by a fallen angel for his fumbling tongue. The closest he'd come to wooing a girl was stealing a pair of undergarments when he was on the cusp of manhood. That hadn't really done much for his relationship with her, nascent or otherwise.

Well. He took a deep breath. Where to begin? He'd heard a few snippets of some old sonnets, ones with which poets pledged their love eternal unto maidens fair. Maybe that'd tickle her heartstrings. If not, he had about a half-body's distance on her before she ran him through with whatever weapon she decided to pluck from the aether.

Her eyes. Her eyes were as twin suns, casting their nourishing light upon his frail, chilly form. Yet ignorant to that to which men swear service true and loyal, his eyes were in turn opened to the balmy world of love.

He went to one knee, one hand outstretched. Her body, he opined, crafted by the gods, yet brought low not out of petty spite, but such that he could be edified by its sight! She was a monument, a testament to the will of the gods, their wisdom, their unerring craft and care in the distillation of virtue! For as loyalty begets loyalty, so too does beauty beget beauty! To that end, how could he do anything but love her? And such love far outgrew the crass confines of physicality, for even if she were to spur his advances -- how could she do anything but, being so peerless in both beauty and adherence to her duty that all others proved themselves unworthy -- he would be forever changed. Indelibly, even, altered by merely witnessing a bastion of purity unmatched.

Eyes shut, Ritten didn't really have a metric to gauge her response. He hoped that her silence was pleasantly stunned, but he honestly wouldn't have put it past her to just be retching with disgust. Or some other appropriately pious reaction, to be fair.

When he cracked an eye open, though, the sight that met him was...surprising.

Her eyes had dimmed to white with golden centers. Her cheeks glowed with sunset-crimson heat, and her lips finally lost that sanctimonious smile in favor of slack-jawed shock. Hand brought up to her mouth in girlish shyness, the fallen angel looked nothing short of smitten.

When she spoke -- after an apparently embarrassing pause -- it was only after a flustered first attempt. She recovered after a tongue-tied mumble and voiced her response. "I, ah. I. I didn't know that the heart of a poet-" She looked to the side, then to the other, and giggled. "Th-The heart of a poet beat within thy breast, noble thief Ritten."

She giggled once more, looked to the side, and clapped a hand to her cheek. "I-I didn't- I wasn't-" She brought her other hand up to her face and shut her eyes tight. "R-Ritten..."

Suddenly, her hands went to her breastplate, and in one desperate motion, they came apart once more, scattering her gilded armor! Her body bared before Ritten's shocked eyes, the fallen angel squealed with something between delight and burning need. "Take me! Oh, take me; I'm yours!"

Her size went at once from intimidating to...intimidating but of a different stripe. Her arms wrapped around his body and pulled his now-flushed face between her heaving breasts. "Ooh, that I knew before how sweet your honeyed barbs stung! I would've given myself unto you in an instant just to spare myself this swooning intoxication! I do, I do, I do! A threefold acceptance of your proposal of love! Let us pledge a love eternal and be wed in the name of the Holy Church!"

She was warm. Soft, too. And big. He'd been too concerned with the threat of death to consider it before, but damn, was she gorgeous. Statuesque, more accurately. And hugging his face between her generous bust.

Ritten wriggled in her grip and poked his face out of her cleavage, squeaking that he'd like that, yes. He didn't have- Pardon, he needed a moment to bring his hands up. You know, to take the lead and grab her by the hips as a man ought to do. He was the one in charge here, wasn't he?

No, he was not, and as she sent the air sputtering from his lungs with a back-popping hug, the fallen angel proved her control over the situation. Thank gods below that she was smitten. "Oh, Silver-Tongue Ritten, I'd never think to usurp your dominion over me, your blushing bride! Darling mine, let's consummate this joyous union as soon as possible! Only."

Only...?

"Only," she continued, her flush turning shyly hopeful, "I would ask a favor of you. Fallen angel though I may be, I am an angel nonetheless, and." She released Ritten, sending him slumping to the ground. She turned away, kicking a foot up behind her girlishly. Swooning, she wiggled her impressive hips and spoke. "I would have our marriage be a proper one with a proper ceremony! Ah-"

She turned back to Ritten, otherwise occupied catching his breath and trying to manage the erection he'd gotten hugged far too tightly to her sumptuous body. "You don't know what a proper marriage ceremony is for my people, do you!"

No. No, he did not. Coughing, he told her as such, and the fallen angel knelt down beside him. Gods below, she even dwarfed him kneeling!

"A thousand pardons, I've not even told you my name. Your bride," she said with a beatific smile, "is named Aurelia. And!" Aurelia hopped to her feet. Hooking her hands under his armpits, she brought Ritten up with her. "The ceremony can be conducted with alacrity, so never fear! You'll be." She blushed deeper still, giggling and utterly failing to meet his eyes. "R-Root deep in your bride before you know it!"

"But first!" She tossed him over her shoulder, carrying him not unlike a bag of flour, and tromped off to gods-knew-where. He couldn't exactly see draped over her bare shoulder -- nor was he inclined to look around, given that the sway of her rear captured his attention quite soundly. Apparently, though, there was a door or a portal or something, because soon the two of them were in what looked to be a bedroom.

"How fortunate, my love, that you've found an ordained priestess of the threefold goddess and her six ardent disciples!" She chirped happily, tossing Ritten down on the bed. Splayed out before her -- nude, apparently, as his clothes dissolved at a snap of her fingers -- he couldn't do much but gawk at her body. He'd seen it before, certainly, but with her looming over him, hip cocked to the side and chest pushed out...

His face was red. Hers was redder. Wavering and frail, the expression on her face didn't match her body's confident posture in the least. "I-I've heard, betrothed, that men fancy a woman confident in her allure. A-A-And!" She tossed her hair over one shoulder. "You'll naught find a maiden as sure of her beauty as I! Therefore!"

She raised one lissome leg up, pinning her foot beside him on the bed with a degree of -- in his mind -- menacing inevitability. "It's come time to consummate our marriage."

Ritten gulped. He was at once terrified and exhilarated. When she brought the other one up and stood on the bed proper, excitement gave way to wide-eyed confusion. That in turn gave way to Ritten's eyes bulging out of their sockets when she planted her derriere square on his belly.

"First, my love." Aurelia gulped, grinding her hips down against him. She was gentle enough that he didn't have to struggle for breath, but that was the least of his concerns. No, far more pressing was the wet heat smearing against his skin. "I must anoint you with my, ah... 'Essence.'"

Oh, thank goodness she was keen on being his wife, because there was no way he'd be able to turn her away if she were this willing already. His cock twitched, and the tip of it bumped against the swell of her rear. She jolted at that, though the look of shock turned quickly to a grin.

"Easy, dear," she purred, hands planted on his wrists, pinning them to the bed. "There's no dearth of time for us to spend together. And really, I do want this to be a traditional ceremony, so I must insist that you allow me to perform the rites." She rolled her hips forward, coating his stomach with her sex's slickness. "Don't worry! It won't be long now. And-"

She gulped again. Ritten brought his hands up to settle on her hips. "I'm certain that a partial christening will suffice, given the expedience with which we must consummate our vows! And, you know, really it's just the christening with my essence and the vows! We're halfway there, my darling!"

Giddy, Aurelia squealed with wordless delight. When she focused her eyes on Ritten's, her enthusiasm dovetailed with his hazy delight. The kiss she pressed to his lips not a moment later coaxed a languid murmur from his, and soon.

Soon Aurelia abandoned her attempt to smear her arousal against Ritten's body in favor of grinding her rear back against his cock. "N-Now, my darling Ritten," she hummed, "come the vows! And please, answer honestly! Bound inextricably before the threefold goddess, blessed be her name, unfit for my thrice-sullied tongue, and her six ardent disciples!"

Aurelia raised her hips up once more and carefully, carefully brought them down again, this time pinning Ritten's length to his now-slick belly and teasing it with the folds of her sex. The gates to heaven were hot, wet, and slippery, and even grinding down against his length, he was content to enjoy it. After all, all he had to do was swear to uphold the vows of their marriage.

"Do you, thief Ritten of the Holy Church, swear to be loyal unto me, Fallen Angel Aurelia of the Threefold Goddess? To follow me no matter where I roam, to be my aegis from misfortune and misery?"

He did, Ritten affirmed between panting.

Aurelia smiled, pressed a kiss to his lips, and touched her forehead to his. "And I shall do the same. Do you, thief Ritten of the Holy Church, swear to warm my bed, to take me into your arms and guide me to gasping, shuddering ecstasy whenever I so desire?"

She ground her hips down with each word, and though he had yet to so much as enter her, Ritten was already near delirious at the aching desire bubbling up inside of him. He did, he affirmed once more, rutting his hips up to meet hers. He tried somehow to push inside of her, but with Aurelia's cunt-lips so snug against his shaft, his tip, his root, rolling up and down with every lazy wiggle of her rear.

"And I shall do the same." She purred in his ear. He was so close. So close to heaven, so close to having a bride of his own, one to fuck and rut and empty himself into whenever he needed to. Wanted to. Whenever he-

"Do you," she sighed, her voice's languor betraying the way she moved faster and faster, "thief Ritten of the Holy Church, swear to love, honor, and -- above all else -- obey my every whimsy, my every desire, my every lust, longing, and order?" Her hands went to his, sliding his ravenous grip to the swell of her rear, encouraging him to grope as much of her supple derriere as he could. Fuck, but her body was luscious. Every inch of it Amazonian perfection. He was so close, he just had to get through the vows, just had to-

"Oh, darling, don't keep me waiting!" Aurelia moaned, halfway to her own climax, and that, ooh, that sent a shiver down Ritten's spine.

He did! He did, he swore to love, honor, and obey! Everything, everything she asked of him, he'd do with a smile on his intoxicated lips!

She rumbled with pleasure, eyes shut, lips barely parted in a satisfied, lovestruck smile. "And I-"

He came.

She blinked.

He spurted his seed onto his belly, painting a white flag of surrender to her exquisite ministrations all over his cunt-polished abdomen. Aurelia raised off of him, surprise turning to shock turning to panic.

"Ritten!" She squeaked, kneeling beside him on the bed as he absent-mindedly took his cock in his hand to stroke himself to emptiness. "Gah! Ritten, no, stop that at once!" She reached down to swat at his hand, but no sooner had the words left her lips than he pulled away.

Her eyes went wide.

"Oh, no! No, no, no!" She whimpered, hands clapped to her cheeks. "Ritten, oh, darling Ritten! You lovely ninny! You went and consummated our marriage on your own, and I didn't even manage to finish the vows!" She hugged him close, eyes shut, lip quivering.

But Ritten was to be her aegis against misfortune and misery. So he craned his neck up to kiss the nape of her neck. With a confused murmur, Aurelia's eyes fluttered open. "Ah-! I, ah." Cheeks flushed once more, Aurelia's grip loosened, if only just so.

"This is a bit of a quandry," she sighed, rocking with him in her arms. "For the vows taken before the threefold goddess are irrevocable!" Aurelia nodded to herself, and Ritten nodded with her. "Unbreakable! Impervious to the whims of mere mortals!"

She clicked her tongue and looked to the ceiling. "Only ours are a bit lop-sided, aren't they." She reached down to palm his cock, kneading his balls with the butt of her palm as her fingertips trailed over his shaft. "You swore to obey me. And." She clicked her tongue again, this time with a laborious sigh. "I didn't."

She sighed again.

"And you came outside of my sex." She sounded more resigned than anything else now, pumping his cock. "It's likely, then, that you're uninterested in having me bear your children now, mm?" She glanced down to his slack, satisfied face, and rolled his eyes when Ritten nodded.

"As I surmised."

Ritten swooned upwards, pressing another kiss to her lips. Her lips, so like rose-petals in their beauty, begging at once to be kissed and to be admired by the eye. Folly, he claimed, to think that it would take anything less than a lifetime to appreciate her body as it deserved. The barest dusting of red upon her cheeks called to mind the flush of a lover's skin after a night spent together in ecstasy, and-

Aurelia gave his chest a smack, giggling. "Ritten, you boob! You can't compare something to what it actually is!" She sighed once more, though this time it was more colored with longing. She hugged his cheek to her breasts once more, and he trilled with happiness. "Oh, that I married a man with a tongue lacking your penchant for poetry. Then I could just set him to work as my love-slave and have that be that."

She worked his cock harder still, hand like a piston pumping at his shaft. Shivering with glee, Ritten groaned against her body. His eyes rolled back, but Aurelia was too busy staring longingly at nothing in particular to notice.

"But the one who stole my heart did so with such surety, such cunning guile that I cannot help but love him as a wife loves a husband. And to that end, I- Ritten, did you finish again?!"

He couldn't so much as nod, so deliriously happy at her silk-soft touch. Mumbling his answer into her cleavage, Ritten bucked his hips up and fucked her hand.

Aurelia shook her head with a grin.

"My husband's more than a poet, it seems." She paused for a moment...before grinning wickedly. With a single push, Ritten was sent once more onto his back. This time, though, he wasn't so inclined to worry or feel or even think, really. So when Aurelia walked on her knees up over his face. When she bared her cunt to him, glistening, dripping, mesmerizing.

He did what any good husband would do.

He opened his mouth wide, let his tongue loll out, and dragged it across her slit.

Aurelia shuddered, clamped her thighs against his cheeks, and ground her sex down against his face. "Ooh, let's see what else that tongue can do, husband."

And thus it is with four shuddering orgasms that the fate of four deacons of the Holy Church met their respective demises. Lust, Pride, Folly, and Love, each felling one of the once-noble acolytes until their minds glazed pink with pleasure and lost all other desires. The world moved on. The Holy Church sent more to the tower in the blighted swamp. Some passed. Most failed.

And all lived happily ever after.