10. Chapter Ten

10

CHAPTER TEN

M y vision seemed to vanish. Hell turned impossibly bright, and I was blown out of the circle. Time must have passed, for when I finally pushed myself upright, the demon in the sigil was—different. Very different.

Standing before me was no demon at all but an angel.

I sat up and stared at it. My guard had gone up, as if seeing any reminder of the holy symbols or great angels I had abandoned sent my body into a panic. Grunting—for do remember, I was still at this point significantly prolapsed —I carefully crawled towards it.

"Why bother with the deception now?" I said. "I know your nature. You are no angel."

Indeed, the demon appeared like many of the church's depictions of the winged creatures. There was none of the terrifying, unknowable nature of the angels as spoken of in the Bible. This creature glowed. Alabaster skin so smooth, it evoked polished marble. Its hair was a light gold that curled over its chest and nipples, hiding what might have been budding breasts or a soft pectoral. Yes, I could not ascertain what I was looking at from first view; the creature before me was so perfectly ambiguous. It had a strongly angled face, delicate lips blushing near red as if a cherry had burst and stained them. Its eyes were hazel, and long lashes gave the impression of someone particularly demure. It held itself similarly. Beautiful, enormous wings covered the rest of its body. Each feather shone nacreous. Miniscule movements were enough to nearly blind me.

But it appeared entirely contained to the circle where, if my actions for the other representatives proved true, I must have summoned an Earl of Hell. Surely this was the same creature as the one that had hounded me? The hart-like demon turned by some illusion?

It had not answered my question.

"Tell me your name."

It cocked its head at me and smiled. The expression dazzled me. Not only were the teeth beautifully white, but the emotion it evoked was both sensual and somehow romantic. I felt like I had known the creature for eons, that it had my best interest at heart.

"My name?" it cooed. The voice that emerged was altogether different to the raspy, quick-spoken hart. This angel spoke slowly, with a resonant drawl. Not overly deep, but full-bodied, like an aged red wine. I opened my mouth to drink it in. "My name is Furfur."

"Furfur," I repeated. "You are an Earl of Hell?"

"A Great and Mighty Earl of Hell," it said. "And you are a little human whore."

I—hadn't expected that. I jolted in place as the incongruency of the angel's image and its words ran through me.

"My name is Alessandro."

A bright, happy laugh. "I could not care less what you call yourself. I can smell you from here. You reek of demonic sulphur, but your humanity's stench is stronger. Foul. What have you done to come here? How can you traverse this land without my brethren punishing you?" Its eyes flicked down my body, and its eyebrows raised. "Ah. I see someone has already attempted to punish you."

I flushed. I became overly aware of my body,

"Come here and let me help you."

"I am Asmodeus'," I clarified. "I am here on its order."

It raised its other brow at me until its look of disbelief was almost comical.

"I have heard no such thing."

"I believe that is part of the challenge, Earl Furfur."

It laughed again and opened its wings fractionally. I noticed a few feathers singed as they touched the invisible barrier of the circle's edge. Furfur tried in vain to keep the pain from its face, but that beautiful nose crinkled as it snapped its wing to its side.

I walked closer, confident it was contained.

"You can't get out of the circle?" I asked. Of course, it did not answer this. "Not until I tell you to?"

It glanced away, so I guessed I was right. Why this rule applied to Furfur and not the others, I could not be sure.

"Are you being punished?"

It snapped around. The angelic visage cracked; oozing blood leaked from its eyes, which had turned pitch black. The voice turned demonic, a thousand shouting cries at once as they screamed, "So many questions for a whore!" Its facade returned momentarily and that old, pleasant voice with it. "I should be asking you what gives you the right to gallivant about in mine territory."

I hesitated only momentarily but ended up telling it. What was the point in pretending to be anything other than what I was? I invoked Asmodeus, my Lord, at least four times, and each time Furfur sneered at me.

When I was done, it stared blankly at me before that placid face devolved into a grimace. It threw its head back and laughed so hard its body shook, wings bouncing by its side.

"Do you expect me to believe that, little human?" it snarled. Quickly, it pressed itself against the invisible barrier that kept it trapped within the circle. All those fine features scrunched against the delineation of the sigil's power, skin bunching up, nose upturned, mouth and teeth bared as it breathed heavily. The skin singed, and it hissed. "How could you have piqued the Lord's interest? Asmodeus is a King of Hell!"

Emboldened by my time with Furcas and, of course, by the safety granted by this sigil's power, I stepped close. I told Furfur, "Because I summoned it," and watched gleefully as its face fell. Curiously, Furfur tilted its head. The curled hair drooped to the side as it considered me in this new light.

"One of my brethren destroyed your body," it said quietly. "You must have convinced someone to fuck you. Lustful, abhorrent human—I'm surprised by your persuasion."

"Furcas did that to me," I said and watched as Furfur raised a brow. It did not hide its interest in that and grinned broadly.

"Furcas? That ridiculous primordial cunt." It spat the last word through its overly large smile. "It would not touch a human."

"Unless. . .?" I prompted.

Furfur's face fell. Inexplicably, in seconds, it drew its wings around itself. The white feathers shone as they slotted against one another, and soon I could see nothing of the angelic form beneath. Furfur was. . .hiding from me.

This lasted nearly half an hour. At first, I tried to speak to it, to encourage it to converse with me. But it was thinking, or sulking; I knew not the nature of demons and had found they weren't consistent creatures. For whatever reason, Furfur did not wish to look upon me whilst it ruminated.

I drew away from it and lay down on the hot rock, letting it think and deciding I would stay there as long as it took. Asmodeus had tasked this of me, and so long as the sigil held, Furfur would be trapped. In the meantime, I set about trying to feel what was happening in my lower body. I spread my legs and reached around to feel the smooth, sensitive insides that had spilled out. It twitched as I tensed, half curling back towards the anus but not slipping back inside.

I flushed because I knew then that I would need help, and when I looked up, Furfur was looking back.

Its face was the picture of innocence, all upturned brows and gently pursed lips. It tilted its head as its wings sank behind its back. Quickly, I stood up.

Furfur said, "I have been thinking."

"Yes, I gathered that."

A beat passed. It looked me up and down. "What happens to me if I touch you?"

I frowned. What? "Nothing. Except, I suppose, a bit of pleasure."

"And what happens to me if I don't?"

Without thinking I replied, "I'm much more concerned about what happens to me . Lord Asmodeus tasked this of me. I won't be allowed at its side without pleasuring a demon from every rank."

It looked—defeated. Suddenly, I was hit by the softness of its tone. It had sounded so sincere, then, like a youthful young man. Like Oliviero, worried about forgetting a passage he had meant to memorise. But this—Furfur's voice had a tinge of fear.

Then, stepping forward, I clarified with, "What are you afraid will happen?"

To my surprise, it answered immediately. "It is as you said before. I am being punished. Where my brethren's circles summons them alone, mine binds me to the summoner.

I realised what it was saying belatedly. "You are worried I will force you?"

And I was floored.

At once, all of my Biblical studies rose up against me. It felt as if I had been punched.

Do not ask me why it had not crossed my mind before. Everything I had done in Hell, whether I had resisted out of fear or not, I had wanted; I had consented to in my heart of hearts. But the teachings rose in me, phrases and passages that had caught the morality in my mind raised up again.

The covenant of marriage became a bulwark against immoral action; marriage itself was all the consent a man could ever need to touch his wife. Sex was a duty for so many of the Christians I knew. In the community I had preached to, it had happened many a time.

If he forced himself upon her, was it rape, when Proverbs 5:19 said he could have her "at all times"? When 1 Corinthians 7:4 said, "A wife does not have the right over her own body, but her husband does"?

"Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing ."

Ephesians 5:24 (KJV)

Sex was a martial debt that was owed; it was not about mutual pleasure, it was not about love, it was not about consent. I realised with a dawning horror what kind of God I had served for so long, where even the demons that had used me until breaking point had done so because I had sought them out willingly.

Tears were in my eyes when I looked up at Furfur. "I will not ask anything of you that you do not wish. But I will ask you to direct me to another Earl so that I might fulfil my duty to the Lord Asmodeus."

Furfur looked at me and tilted its head. "Why do you cry? Do you want me inside you that badly?"

It made me laugh just slightly. I put aside my sympathy and shook my head. "For what are you being punished?"

"I am reckless. Chaotic. Asmodeus has made it so I must tell the truth when summoned. Our Lord has prevented me from tricking humans so easily."

Then, this sigil made it vulnerable, and its attempts to hide from me behind its wings appeared as reactions to that awful feeling I knew all too well.

"Furfur, I will let you go if you tell me where to find another Earl."

"And what if I don't want you to find another Earl?"

"Why. . ." I did not know what question to ask. Why are you like this? Why are you chaotic, and deceiving, and why does it seem like you're frightened of me? I was stumped by this indecisive attitude, which did not align with my understanding of demons at all.

Furfur saw through all of this. "Because I am bored, little human. Bored out of my mind. A millennium has passed with nothing interesting happening. You and your arrival here is the most exciting thing in an age. But I do not like humans; I cannot separate the reality of where I live now from where I used to live, the reality of who I am now from who I used to be. It does not matter that ages of men have risen and fallen or that I am so different now from the angel I once was. There is a part of me that craves the comfort of Heaven without God's tyranny, but He was always a tyrant, and Heaven was never as soft as I believed it to be. I did not wish to bow for humans. I still do not wish it."

"I am not asking you to bow for me," I said. "I will release you from this circle. I am asking you to put me in my place."

This sparked something in Furfur's eyes. The beautiful angelic face flushed, and light sparkled in its eyes. "I want to put you in your place."

My breath hitched. I flexed my fingers by my side, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Then you'll help me?" It wavered anyway, with hope and desire.

Furfur did not answer. It was bound to tell the truth, so I gathered its silence was a kind of truth; uncertainty. I smiled somewhat at that, amused by the thought of sanctions on demons, though the smile faded quickly. Then I asked it to tell me more about itself. It did not react well to this at first; its wings flared up as if to shield its face and body from my scrutiny once more. But with a placating hand and a few words, I managed to ask it carefully, "Tell me about the hierarchy. Tell me how you came to be an Earl."

Furfur stood straighter as pride bolted through it. I saw momentarily the kind of angel it might have been, the sin of its self-interest that had led it to follow Lucifer Morningstar into a war.

"Earl is my title. We were the many angels who joined the rebellion against God after we saw higher and mightier angels launching the assault. They did not tremble in fear of the Almighty; they attacked without remorse. We were the ones who bolstered the ranks. Lucifer granted us this title to recognise that service."

I felt my walls falling. I expected. . .something different from Furfur, or from demons in general; it told me it was a liar and a deceiver, and I could feel my empathy encompassing it in an embrace. Some voice told me not to trust it, but I trusted Asmodeus more than myself; I trusted that my Lord would not allow me to suffer unduly.

"Put me in my place, Furfur," I murmured.

It flashed me a look, those large hazel eyes growing watery, expression soft and sweet beneath those long lashes. It wet its lips. "Is that a command?"

"A request," I clarified. "Only if you wish it."

We stared at one another, and eventually, the angelic creature shook out its hair. The shiver went through its whole body, each feather rustling and fluffing up, and it drew its wings away from its body.

It revealed to me genderless perfection. I saw the supple chest, which was without nipples, the body smooth and soft and without a navel. My eyes cast lower, glancing off its hairless stomach to its genitals, which very plainly did not exist in any way I could comprehend. Gone was the abnormally fluffy cock of the hart form Furfur had previously taken. There was a smooth, firm mound that curved beneath its stomach, similar to a doll's form. Its legs were rounded, thighs soft and large. Alabaster smooth, like youth untouched.

My attraction to it proved complicated almost immediately. I felt interest tug in my belly, but there was a strangeness to the feeling. Part of me desired to gender Furfur, to seek out masculinity in its form and use that as a crutch on which to anchor my desire. But this was not what Furfur was. Indeed, it was what any of the demons were—neither man, nor woman, nor human. They were creatures whose bodies were moulded to change into forms I could recognise. This choice I would not take from Furfur. I would not ask it to appear as something else for me.

"How can I pleasure you?" I whispered. So much of my understanding of pleasure related to genitals; I craved to milk demons until they writhed with joy. Other erogenous parts of the body I comprehended as added benefits, ways to increase the feeling in the main areas I was set to touch.

Furfur smiled a dazzling smile. Its teeth were perfectly aligned and beautifully straight, teeth like freshly anchored pearly headstones, all in a row.

"Carnal pleasure does not interest me," the Earl said. "But I am interested in. . ."

Its eyes dropped to me—to my cock. Once again, I was hit by the terror of having my pleasure accounted for. I flushed immediately. "I—that was not what Lord Asmodeus meant. I am to pleasure others, not?—"

"And what if this gives me pleasure?" Furfur's teeth turned strange and sharp, fangs growing from red gums. It bared them to me, shoving its face against the barrier. "To reduce a human to a mewling, wanton mess with only my hands and my mouth? To take the form of an angel and sour that beauty with carnal depravity? What if it bolsters both my mood and my self-image to remember much of humanity is so easily tempted by matters of the flesh?" Furfur pressed close against the barrier until those fine features were pressed and stretched almost humorously. "What if your puny human mind cannot comprehend my desires? What if something as simple as orgasm does nothing for me after eons? You can't possibly understand; you are still an infant in your discovery. So do not presume to tell me what it is I desire!"

Its voice raised to a howling shriek, and I shied away from the noise. My heart ached in my chest from the speed of this change, and another part enjoyed it. The blasphemer in me saw the angelic form and shivered with equal parts revulsion and thrill. But I enjoyed, too, the layered truth.Beneath this beauty was a demon who, like me, had turned its back on God. Who enjoyed playing with forms, who in part still clung to its angelic identity—who understood implicitly that the most depraved thing I could imagine would always involve religion.

"I—apologise," I said, and Furfur's wrath withered away in moments. Beauty returned; Furfur stepped back into its graceful form.

"Then?" it whispered. "Will you let me touch you? Let me drop your anxious, fleeting mind back into your body?"

"Yes," I said. "Step out of the circle."

And so it did.

As if there had never been a barrier, Furfur daintily stepped over the circle's grooves. Each step had a grace to it, a deliberate and measured approach. It looked up at me, its head lowered so half of its face was covered by its long curls. Those beautiful wings wrapped around its body, and only when it was close to me did it stretch them out wide, wide, wide until a great shadow fell upon us. Furfur reached out to me with strange gentleness, a hand on my waist as it pulled me close.

Very softly, it kissed me.