Angel Fall

Content warning: This chapter contains piercing, shame, and denial. 

The cave was cold and cramped, and the bed consisted of little more than a wooden platform with a ragged quilt to cover it, but Laurelai thanked the monks that showed her to her new home all the same. She noticed that the door at the entrance locked from the outside, but that they left it standing open. 

She knelt in front of the meager shrine to the goddess on the far wall and tried to pray, even if she could never quite bring herself to say the holiest words, and thought about her current situation.

They’d agreed to let her stay, and to try to help her wash the filth from her soul. Both of those were major victories, but they weren't without costs. She agreed to refrain from touching herself or doing any other acts of wickedness that would further stain her soul. She promised to try of course, but she was sure it was only a mater of time until she broke that promise and had to confess one more terrible sin to the men that were going to take her confession. 

Before she saw anyone else, though, she would have to spend three days fasting in contemplation of all she’d been through. That shouldn’t be as hard for her as it would be for a mortal, but as the days wore on, it certainly challenged her patience. 

She would lay awake in bed for half the night remembering all the different demons she’d fucked and how good it had felt, while she kept her hands balled up in fists at her side. Bathing in the holy waters of the Fabek had helped to bolster her resistance a little, but they couldn’t stop the dreams from boiling to the surface of her diseased mind each night when she closed her eyes. 

Of all the dreams she had, though, she hated the ones about Lord Bel the most. The way he used her, was bad enough. In those dreams, she was always chained down and unable to fly away while his terrible cock ravished her holes. 

“I’ve bred you, and now you’ll always be mine,” he gloated, and he filled her over and over again with his cursed seed. 

Every time she had one of those dreams, she woke up breathless and aching to be used, but since she couldn’t touch herself her, she had plenty of time to focus on the most disturbing element of all: that these weren't just dreams. Somehow, he was communicating with her. He had some terrible connection to her, even across the impossible distance to hell, and she had no idea how to break it. 

She was powerless against it, though, and she hoped that the Malchanen brothers had some answer to combat it, because she certainly didn’t.

Finally, after three days, her confessor arrived. He was a stern man in his forties named Brodrik. He listened to her bear her soul for over an hour, before his penance started just the same as her last one had: with purification by water. This time he made her stand naked in a pool of crystal water that was only a few degrees warmer than ice before he let her leave. 

Unlike the last monk that escorted her to the river, he did not look away when she got undressed, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable by her nudity either. If anything, the way he stared right through her made her uncomfortable. 

Once that was done, he dragged her to the scriptorium while she was still shivering so that a pair of younger sisters could copy down every last glyph that twined together in her lewd crest. At first, she was able to ignore the way the two women staring at her crest made her feel, but once she had warmed up, the crest began to glow lightly at the way exposing herself like this made her feel. 

It took almost an hour for that embarrassing ordeal to be completed, and on the walk back to the cave, Brodrik told her, “I’ll be assigning you an extra penance for the way you attempted to corrupt those virtuous women with your lewd display.”  

“But I had no control over that. The way my body reacts, it—” Laurelai said as she turned to protest. 

Her words were met with a stinging slap across her face. 

“Arguing with my decisions will result in additional punishment.” he said sharply. “Do you understand, angel? You are to obey all the brothers and sisters of this holy place, but among them, you must obey me the most. The council has left you in my care, and I will not fail them.” 

“I-I do Brodrik… I mean Brother Brodrik. Thank you for correcting me,” she said quickly. Inside, she struggled with the unfairness of his words, but anyone could see that arguing her case wouldn’t help her. They were already trying to understand the evil magics that afflicted her, and that was more than she could ask of anyone else. A little strictness, and a little suffering, were a small price to pay for that. 

She turned meekly and followed him as he continued back up the cliff. The winds had picked up since they left, though he seemed to take no notice of that as he ordered her to strip, and tied her wrists to a wrought iron ring that had been fixed to a cliff face not far from her hermitage. 

She knew what was coming. There was only one possible reason to tie her up like that, but even so, the only warning she received was when he said, “50 lashes should be sufficient for all the terrible sins you’ve confessed to and demonstrated today. I’ll increase that tomorrow if you show no progress in conquering your lascivious nature.”  

Seconds later, the first blow from a flog ripped across her back. The first blow he struck landed squarely in the sensitive flesh between her wings, and Laurelai gasped in surprise as much as pain. The second one striped her lower back, and the third was close enough to her side that one of the tails on the flog wrapped around her hip to sting her stomach. 

It was painful, but not unendurable, and Laurelai gritted her teeth in an effort to quietly endure her suffering. 

That lasted until somewhere around the fifteenth stroke before she finally cried out. She quickly discovered that the problem was not how much each individual blow hurt, but how much more the second and third strikes hurt when they landed somewhere that the flog had already kissed before. 

“Pain is good for the soul,” brother Brodrik grunted as he brought the scourge down and her tender ass. “Let it flow through you, and bleed your dark lust from you when it leaves your body.” 

It was a nice idea, but Laurelai knew it didn’t work that way. Somewhere around the thirtieth blow, when he was marking up her pale thighs, Laurelai’s screams turned to sobs. That was when he pussy began to drip with need. 

Pain didn’t purge her twisted body of lust, it enhanced it. It called to it. Each fury line of agony he drew across her was another plea for someone, anyone, to touch her. By the end of it, she would have been feverishly masturbating in front of the monk while she begged him to fuck her if her hands weren’t already bound. 

As it was, she managed to avoid that embarrassment, though when he moved to untie her she said, “No, please leave me like this a little longer.” she knew she couldn’t yet trust her traitorous body, and gave the chilling gusts a few minutes to do their job and lower her libido a bit. 

By the time he finally untied her and let her dress, her crest was still throbbing pink, though. Her body was aching, though, and by the time she returned to her bed, she could only just barely keep her hands to herself. 

It was a near sleepless night for Laurelai, but in the morning when she confessed all these things to Brodrik, he seemed more displeased than ever. 

“Come with me,” he barked, immediately leaving the cave and heading back down the cliffs to the abbey. From this high up, Laurelai was always struck by the beauty. She could see why an ascetic sect like this would build a fortress in such a high and lonely place. It had a desolate beauty all its own. 

That much was easy to understand, and even easier for someone like her who had the wings and the senses to truly appreciate the beauty of the boundless sky they were surrounded by. What she understood less well, was why they took her in, or what was going to happen to her today. 

She tried not to be nervous, but by the time the entered the dungeon beneath the abbey, that became impossible. “Strip and stand against that wall,” Brodrik ordered her, as soon as they entered a dark and claustrophobic cell at the end of a hall.  

“What are we—” Laurelai started to ask, but her question wilted beneath his glare, and she slowly began to shrug out of her robe. 

“Do not question me, angel,” he said, as he began to fasten the manacles that were hanging there about her wrists and ankles. “What we do, we do for the good of your immortal soul.” 

After the monk finished delivering those ominous words, he retreated, and for several minutes she was alone in that dark room to contemplate whatever terrible fate was about to befall her. That gave her all the time in the world to worry that Brodrik had decided that his previous attempts at pain might not have been enough to purge her. 

Those fears dissipated quickly enough when an old woman entered the cell next, instead of the diffident monk. 

“Alright, dearie,” she said in a kind voice not much louder than a whisper. “I understand you’ve been having some trouble. This might help to take the edge off.” 

For a moment, Laurelai was comforted by the woman’s words. Then she saw her laying out devices that looked like instruments of torture.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Laurelai asked, not trying to keep the fear from her voice. 

“I’m just helping you to resist temptation,” she said, smiling. The smile was far too cheerful for what was about to happen to her, and for a moment Laurelai was concerned that the woman had gone mad. Then she finally held up one of the things she’d been fussing with in front of Laurelai’s face. It was a bar, surrounded by a circle. It was a lovely metaphor for the whole of creation, Laurelai thought, but that hardly meant that it belonged on her body. 

“These are platinum studs, my darling. Triple blessed by the holiest priests we have. They might hurt a little at first, but I think you’ll find they help to clear your mind a bit.” 

Laurelai opened her mouth, but had trouble talking as she watched the woman produce a long, sharp needle. “That seems a bit extreme… maybe there’s another way. Maybe we could—” 

“Shhhhh,” the nun soothed her as she grabbed the angel’s left breast and caressed it softly before she teased the nipple just enough to make it hard. “You have lovely breasts, my dear, but you have a problem. You aren’t the first woman to serve the goddess with needs too strong to bear on your own. This will take the edge off, I promise.” 

“Wait, I…” Laurelai protested, but she didn’t dare move as nun brought the needle up, and with a quick, precise, stabbing motion, pierced one of the most sensitive parts of her body. 

Honestly, she would have expected it to hurt more. It wasn’t until the bar started to slide into the freshly made hole that the minor, but sharp, pain began to burn. Laurelai tried to endure it, but when the Nun started to install the second one on her right nipple, the angel began to plead. “Please… it hurts… if you could just…Mmmmmhhhh” 

Laurelai gasped in pain as the second nipple piercing slid into place. 

“There we are, Don’t they look lovely. They’ll be a constant reminder of your place in the goddess’ plan, and hopefully they’ll take the edge off the terrible need that you’ve had to endure so far. ” the nun smiled. “Now we just have one more, and then I’ll cast a nice healing spell, and you’ll be right as rain. 

“One more?” Laurelai asked, confused. It was very slow to dawn on her, as she looked at the third piercing, which was just a straight bar. She was really going to pierce her pussy too? Her nipples were already aching as the evil in her body interacted with the holy metal, but another piercing? That would be going too far…

“Please,” Laurelai begged, “You’ve done enough. Truly, but I think that my pus- … my sex… I think that might be too far.” 

“Now, now deary,” the nun said, not even bothering to look up as she studied the angel’s pussy and spread it slightly with two fingers. “We both know this is where most of the temptation comes from, and besides…” she said with another quick stab that was almost too fast to hurt. “We’re practically done already.” 

Then the nun slid the third stud into place, through her clitoral hood, and about her sensitive clit, Laurelai gasped in a mix of pleasure and pain so confusing that she had no idea which was which. 

In the moments that followed, as the nun cast her spells and healed Laurelai’s fresh wounds around the piercings, the burning pain became more of a deep throb, and combined tingling warmth of the healing magic, it felt better than Laurelai would have believed. For a moment, as that piercing throbbed and thrumed against her clit, she thought she might actually cum without anyone touching her, strange as that would have been. The sensation faded as quickly as it appeared, and she tried to keep the lust the strange sensations stirred off her face, but as the nun looked at her with disapproval, Laurelai flushed with shame. She knew she’d been caught. 

“Careful girl,” the nun said. “If this doesn’t work, we might have to resort to even stronger measures. You won’t like those either. Not one bit.” 

Shortly after that, she was let down, and once Brodrik inspected her new jewelry she was allowed to dress once again, and escorted back to hermitage. 

He whipped her again that night before he left her, and that evening Laurelai agonized over the way the combination of sensations coursed through her. She wasn’t in pain, not exactly. Especially not after she cast a healing spell of her own to releave the sting of the lash. 

The way the piercings throbbed against her, though. The way they stimulated her most sensitive spots constantly made her ache to be fucked constantly, and there was no relief for it. At least that’s what she thought until she remembered the nun’s magic. 

Touching herself would be a sin, but if Laurelai could cast a spell that could make herself cum, would that be an even greater sacralige, or a loophole? She thought about it all night, but never quite decided what she should do.