The Fallen Angel (Closed for ThePhoenixMan and I)

Calistial closed her eyes and sighed as her hand slid over the soft, feathery down between her slender legs. Her fingers, smooth and supple, the tips wet from her own tongue, slid up and down along the tender flesh there, spreading her lips, sliding inside her, seeking those secret spots she'd become more and more intimate with since she first discovered them not so long ago. Yet again, her orgasm, when it came several long minutes after, felt hollow and empty. Nothing like the wave of power she'd felt from the mortals she'd spied copulating on her last mission to the Battlefield below. One had been a priest, the other a whore, and she had dispensed justice upon them as only one of the seraphim could. Yet not until after she had watched them climax from hiding.

Their sexuality was like a virus. Calistial had, of course, known of sex, and knew that HE had given her a body capable of all the lusts and pleasures of a mortal creature, MORE, in fact, just so she, as all the other angels, would have something to deny themselves. To deny pleasure is to be pure, and only the pure could serve as HIS warriors on the Battlefield mortals knew as Earth.

Yet Calistial was no longer pure. She had coaxed a dozen orgasms from her, and now she realized she needed a partner, someone who could do for her what she could not do for herself... bring forth a true climax, one worthy of a servitor of heaven.

And no sooner had she made up her mind to seek out such a partner than one of the Arbiters stood before her, his body blinding in radiance, his expression one of profound disappointment.

"CALISTIAL. YOU HAVE LOST YOUR WAY. YOUR THOUGHTS HAVE DAMNED YOU. THIS IS YOUR TRIAL AND PUNISHMENT. YOU ARE TO BE EXILED FROM THE SEAT OF HEAVEN, TO SPEND A YEAR AND A DAY ON THE BATTLEFIELD AMONG THE TEMPTATION AND SQUALOR YOUR BODY HAS COME TO CRAVE. IF YOU CAN RESIST AND ABSTAIN, THERE MAY BE A PLACE FOR YOU HERE. IF NOT, YOUR EXILE SHALL BE A LASTING DAMNATION. THE TRIAL OF CALISTIAL IS CONCLUDED!

The angel barely had time to comprehend what had happened. Suddenly, she was hurtling through the air, her ethereal body hardening, taking on the shapely flesh of her warrior form, yet without her sword or armor. Her skin, alabaster and pure, stung as the wind tore against it. Her wings desperately spread, golden feathers that shone like the sun, yet they could not find purchase. the trailing corona of her fiery red hair flew behind her like a comet's tail, and she could do nothing but watch as the Earth rose up to meet her. She had just enough time to notice she was about to strike down on the banks of a river, just where it flowed under a rural bridge in a mountainous area, before she hit and everything went dark.

For several hours, the unconscious fallen angel lay there in a crater at the river's edge. She would remain unconscious well after she was discovered... and when she WAS discovered... it would not be a human that carried her away to his lair...

Nefarius had spotted her from afar, a beautiful winged creature, young, pure and so naive. She was one, he knew he'd try to tempt. He knew them all, he knew their purpose, to protect mortals from the evils the like of Nefarius and his counterparts. They had done battle on numerous occasions, vying for the souls of those who inhabited the sphere of Earth. Yet Nefarius, one of Satan's favorites, took delight in, not only taking the souls of the pitiful mortals, but battling the seraphims directly, or indirectly as in this case.

His forked, snake-like tongue slithered out as he salivated, looking over the ripe form of the one called Calistial. She was a perfect target, for she must have been new. He had not seen her on the battlefield before, and set his targets upon her. His spear-pointed tail wrapped around his torso and Nefarius stroked the scales, scheming how he would entrap the haloed beauty.

It was actually quite simple. Nefarius followed the cute cherub to house of worship, where she no doubt felt safe on her first visit. His cunning and wit, sharp as his tail, Nefarius closed his eyes and envisioned himself differently. A few minutes had passed and the tail was gone, his talons shortened, his wings disappeared, his forked tongue had normalized. Atop his head, he had short cropped hair, chestnut in color with some graying. His form was thin, yet not frail. He was dressed in black. And around his neck, he wore a white collar!

Nefarius had transformed himself into a priest and walked right on by her, as if he did not know she was there. He smiled as he felt her presence, hiding in the shadows, as he slipped into a booth, and listened to a multitude of confessionals. The last confessional was with a lovely matron, whom he took into private when they were done. In no time, the female parishoner was on her knees, tending to him in the most lascivious ways, drinking his communion from the shaft. And that was only the beginning, for they copulated in many ways, Nefarius having corrupted the mortal with little faith. All the while, he knew that the true object of his desire was in the shadows, probably aghast at what she was witnessing.

He held back his laughter as she dispensed her justice and then fled. He had already been condemned, and he had no desire for salvation. As for the mortal, there could be no greater sin, than that which she had just done, and Nefarius gloated. A married woman, fucking a priest, in church! She'd surely be one of them, another warrior added to their army.

It took Nefarius a while but he found the young one once more on the battlefield, lurking in the shadows of a busy city alleyway. Once again, another transformation, and Nefarius had shapely legs, long brunette hair, oversized breasts, a tank top that was three sizes too small, and a mini skirt that was too short. She was accented with fishnet stockings, high heels, big hoop earrings, and way too much makeup. She walked into the light of the alley and lured the first available john to join her.

Just as the priest and the married woman, so where the whore and her trick. A blowjob was followed by a good hard fuck up against the wall, and then Nefarius let the john stick his cock in her ass as she bent in half, encouraging him on. The whole time, Nefarius moaned and groaned, filling the alleyway with sounds of pleasure until the man exploded. Just as she had done before, the lovely one made herself known and dispensed her condemnation.

It was then, that Nefarius knew the battle had been won. It was then, he saw in her eyes, a glaze, a haze, and a hollow curiosity. It would only be a matter of time!

+++ +++ +++ +++ +++

She had been gone from the battlefield for some time, yet Nefarius kept his eyes open for her. He had no doubt she would return. She was too young, and way too pure, to be part of their army. They were foolish to send such an inexperienced soldier into battle. So he just waited, continuing to commit more and more mortals to his legions.

Then it had happened! A streaking comet, burning through the skies from above. The red flaming tail, reminding him of his own, Nefarius watched, golden hues streaking along the outer edges, wings unmoving, unable to catch loft. He eyed the hurtling form as it came nearer and nearer, heading towards the mountains.

He spread his wings and quickly flew off towards the mountains, chasing after that which fell from the sky. A rather loud thud had filled the air, the land rumbling and shaking as it finally landed. Nefarius hovered overhead, finally swooping down towards the riverbed, and the crater the object had created.

There it was, just as he had anticipated, the conquest of his battle. The one they call Calistial. Long red hair lay strewn about her crumpled form, a sheer white robe, covering her pale flesh. Golden feathers of her wings were mired in the soft mud in which she had landed, all lustre gone!

Nefarius landed next to the unconscious one, and transformed himself into a young mortal of equal age. His form was firm and solid, strong, but not overly. His hair was black, as were his eyes, and it flowed to just above his shoulders. His clothing was as modest as hers. He would call himself Damian.

He sat in the mud and lifted the poor creatures head into his lap and stroked her hair and her face, waiting for the moment her eyes would open, and then they'd meet ...

Calistial

There was an overwhelming sensation of vertigo, as if of falling, yet no wind rushed through the feathers in her wings nor rippled against the simple cloth of her robe. All around was darkness, with no point of reference to fix upon. At once it felt as if she were hurtling at impossible speeds and caught motionless at the core of infinity. She felt exhilarated and sick, freed and imprisoned. And then, strange sensations flooded into her. Cold... wetness... and a dull, trembling ache through her entire body.

Her eyes parted, but only barely, enough to let in the light. As it stabbed at her, she squinted her eyes shut again, then opened them carefully.

She was being cradled by a man.

With a start, Calistrial staggered away, pulling back from the human. Her golden wings, spattered with mud, spread wide, and as they did pain shot through them and she crumpled to her knees, staining her white robe even further with mud and dirt.

"You... you must not remain here..." she gasped to the man, "You should not be seeing this..." But that effort was too much. She faltered again, her brilliant red hair cascading down over her face as she slumped to gather in crimson spirals in the water and dirt below.

Nefarius sat with the angelic creature, comforting her, holding her, caressing her. He could have easily carried her away, caged her, taken her, and claimed her for himself. But that was not enough for him. To do such, she'd be taken against her will, and could still be rescued by her legions. But! If she were to, of her own free will, commit, and submit, to the sins of mortal souls, then it would be her soul that he claimed, and not just her body. That would be a glorious victory.

He acted with surprise, and feigned concern and disappointment when she had awoken. When she had jumped and ran from his arms, he merely sat in the waters, watching her intently. Her purity, stained by the mud and murky waters, he watched as she stumbled and fought for balance. He listened to her plea for his dismissal, yet gave it a deaf ear, watching rather how she faltered among the loose rocks and fell back into the waters rushing by her. Her crimson locks floated atop the rolling waters as just her head remained above the level.

He rose to his feet and waded into the waters. He lifted her from her fallen position into his mighty arms and hoisted her up till just her buttocks remained dipped in the cool wetness. He carried her to the riverbank and beyond, to a soft meadow of greens, warmed by the sun above. He lay her gently upon the soft bedding, eyeing the transparency of her gown, soaked with the river's waters. The cool wetness, causing stiff peaks in her bosom where her robe clung like a second skin. There, too, between her legs, a fiery nest of red curls could also be easily seen. While the vision was sweet, he let not the cherub he saved know of his lustful desires.

"Sweet maiden. My name is Damian, and ye shall fear me not! You are weak. You need not struggle. Relax, and sleep if you must." He cradled her again, rocking gently, coaxing her to relax and melt into his arms. "Speak not now, till you regain some strength." His voice whispered warm air over her.

He stayed there with her, not letting her oppose his offer, till she relented and once again fell asleep in hs arms. As she slept, however, Nefarius smoothed his hands over the golden feathers, still mired in the dirt, and plucked one loose feather from each wing, tucking them inside his shirt as a souvenir. He smiled.

Eventually he would collect every feather, one by one, an offering from her as she willingly fell prey to his charms. One by one, he would gather them together until they rolled among them doing the most vile of acts two could do, her will totally committed to him. Her wings would then be clipped, never again allowed to soar with the likes she was accustomed to. But all that was in due time.

Damian sat there caressing her head, and stroking her hair as she slept comfortably. When she awoke, he would ask of her, and tell her of him. They would take time to know each other. He would take her to his house in the hills, far away from any interference from other mortals, or any legions.

Calistial

It wasn't long before Calistial felt the world returning to her. Her eyes fluttered, then opened, and as they did, gold sparks seemed to dance within the fathomless depths of her pupils. She started again, sliding out of the human's embrace and drawing up against the trunk of a nearby tree. She shivered, not entirely out of cold, and seeing how her soaking wet robe revealed her curves, she drew up her legs and pulled her arms across her chest. Yet this time, she did not attempt to flee. She flexed her wings experimentally and winced at the pain they caused, then looked over at the man.

"You... you do not flee from me? And you do not look upon my form in shock? Do I not awe you, human?" she asked, but without any sense of arrogance or pride. It was an honest set of questions; few humans could look upon an angel and not be awed, not feel fear. Had Calistial been thinking more clearly, she would have wondered if this man were human at all, but her Fall had done more than damage her wings...

"I need somewhere to hide. I have many enemies, and they will doubtless be seeking me. If you do not leave me, human, they will find you too. And without my sword or wings, I cannot protect you. I ask you again. Leave me."

Damain listened intently to the fallen one speak, her voice was sweet and full of innocence. 'Tis a pity, they shall lose one so sweet', he thought to himself as he regarded her questions. With quick thought and cunning cleverness, he responded in kind.

"Should I be frightened? Are you here to cause me harm? Nay. I think not! Where you came from, I do not know, but you are quite obviously in pain and in need of some assistance, and probably of some fresh clothing, food and water."

Damian pointed off in the distance. There is a house over yonder hills. Tis my home, where I was raised. I live there alone, tend to some sheep, and live off what the land offers me. There is no one else about, nary a soul trespasses these green pastures, I assure you."

Damian rose to his feet, his own cloak stained with the mud he had been sitting in with the winged one. "Come. Let me take you there. You shall see you are quite safe there. If there are others in search of you as you seek, no one knows these hills as I. There are many a cave full of a labyrinth of halls under these greens where we can hide."

The truth of the matter was that Nefarius knew the path through the caves, because it would wind down through the hills, deeper and deeper into the core of the earth, down to where he and the likes of his kind called home. In due time, he would take her there, but it would be of her will that they travelled there. It would be her own decisions and doing which would take her on that path.

Damian walked till he was standing before her and extended his hand. "Come! Let me show you." With confidence and surety, he took the hand of the virginal girl and grasped it firmly. He helped her to her feet and started off in the direction of the humble house he spoke of.

"Tell me," he asked of her, "of yourself." Damian wanted to know about her so he asked as they walked along. "What is your name? ... Where is it that you come from? ... Who is it that you must hide from? ... What was it that brought you here?"

It was the last question he was most interested in, wondering if the pure one would tell the truth, or fall prey to the first of many temptations and lie?

Calistial

Calistial watched and listened as the human spoke, still rattled and confused after her long fall from Heaven. When he extended his hand for her, she took it almost automatically... and once on her feet, she felt a tiny bit of control return to her. She was able to stand, and after a few tentative steps realized she could walk. Her wings still ached, but with time she hoped they would heal as well. She began to follow her new companion, holding her still-wet robe to her in an attempt to conceal her modesty.

"I am known as Calistial, although I think that I should, perhaps, not reveal to you where I am from. Your acceptance of my wings, of the state in which you found me, indicates to me that you at least have a good idea of what I am and where I am from, so for now I would remain silent on those answers. As for who I must hide from... there are many out there who would seek to do me harm, for I am a warrior and a soldier. The enemies of my lord would doubtless pay dearly for my capture."

It was more a testimony to her confusion than to her naivety that she didn't realize the danger of following an unknown to his home; right now, all she wanted was to be somewhere hidden. Being out in the open like this made her nervous.

"As for why I am here..." she cast her eyes down for a moment. "I am being punished. I have failed my Lord, and now I must atone here. But first, I must find shelter."

Damian listened to the cherub, and relished in the sound of her voice as she spoke. The hand she had placed in his was soft and gentle, and he could not imagine her yeilding a sword or inflicting pain. His hand felt hot compared to hers, the heat radiating from his body quite evident as they walked through the hills en route to the small cabin, tucked away in the woods.

He had wished so badly that Calistial, as he now knew her by, would lie her way through his questions, yet she did not, though never quite revealing the whole truth. She was clever indeed, noticeably choosing her words quite carefully. Yet Damian was undeterred, continuing to pry as they went along.

His means were subtle, but nonetheless, he continued to pry. He divulged a bit of history, completely a lie, but one he was sure Calistial would believe. "Tis a pleasure to meet you Calistial. The name is quite fitting, but would you mind if I merely called you Cali? Tis much simpler. As I've said, my name is Damian." He looked towards her and batted his eyelashes just a bit, giving an ever so brief glimpse of what she believed was his soul through his eyes. "I was born to these mountains. My parents passed, the year past, fallen to plague and illness. I know not much of things other than what they have taught me."

As they crested one hill, Damian pointed out a cottage next to a streaming brook still a ways off in the distance. "There. There is where I grew up. There is where you will be quite safe, I assure you." They walked some, then Damian inquired of her wings. "You speak of your wings, but they don't allow you to fly? What purpose do they serve if not to fly? If I had wings I would love to soar the skies above and see the hills like the birds and other creatures that float in mid air." It was a simple statement, but one he hoped would leave a profound impact upon Calistial.

"Please tell me Cali. How did you fail the one you call your Lord? You speak of punishment, yet I don't understand? My parents would whip me, yet I was never banished from them, or their love. I find it difficult to understand. What could be so bad that one would send you away as punishment?"

Damian never released his grip as he felt her hand tense with his questioning words, searching for answers. In fact it was Nefarius who was twisting and contorting the logic within the fragile young one's mind as he asked the questions.

Finally reaching the cottage, he ushered her inside. The appearance from the outside belied how spacious the inside was. Though there were no rooms, a large fireplace along one wall warmed the entire house. A bed was nestled along one wall, a table and three chairs along the other. There were two large cabinets, one next to the bed, which stored clothing, one next to the table, which stored food items. There were no other amenities needed in the wild, living off the land and its natural resources.

Damian walked to the closet and fetched one of his mother's pink gowns. "Here, you can change into this," he said rather assertively, handing her the robe. "If you wish to rinse or bathe, I can fetch some water from the brook?"

Calistial

Calistial's wits were slowly returning to her, yet not so quickly so as she could realize that this man who led her spoke in a strange archaic dialect, or not so she could interpret the true meaning behind the heat of his hand. His constant questions served to keep her distracted as well, forcing her to choose her words carefully. She had no desire to lie to this helpful young man, yet knew also that to speak too plainly of the truth could scare him away, or worse, damn him with knowledge that he had no business knowing about the worlds above and below.

"Cali will do fine, Damian. As for my wings... yes, they do allow me to fly. Yet they were wounded during my... fall. I do not think they are broken, yet they cause me great pain when I attempt to unfurl them. I am sure that with rest and time they will heal."

"As for how I failed my Lord, please... do not ask me to divulge more. It can be no mater of lasting interest to you, in any event, for it is unseemly to dwell too greatly upon the misfortunes of others. One who has lived a life so secluded in these beautiful mountains can, of course, be excused for what is likely inexperience in the social medium... and please do not take my words as a slight. Your manner strikes me as quite charming, Damian, charming and kindly, traits that life in civilized reaches are often ground out of a soul at an early age. Suffice to say, my Lord had very clear and simple rules for those who dwelt in His house, and I suffered but a moment of weakness and broke one of them. I have been cast down here as punishment... for now, I wish to speak no more of this."

By then, they had reached the cabin. Calistial looked around the place, marveling at how simple a life this man must lead.

"This is but a small abode, Damian. Is there no one else in your life? You speak of parents... were they good souls? Perhaps I might have known them... I am sure they are in a better place now."

She took the simple gown from him when he offered. The concept of getting into clean, dry clothes appealed to her, and this gown had a low cut back that would allow her wings to protrude with ease. Yet she did not like the concept of changing in front of this man, however friendly he may have appeared. An idea struck her.

"Why... why water to rinse in would be delightful, Damian. If you could bring some for me, I would be much obliged." Hopefully, the brook would be far enough for her to change into the gown with plenty of time to spare.

Damian remained as polite as he could be given the situation. However, as Nefarius, he was sure he knew why the cherub had fallen from grace. It was his own doing, his own temptations, which she had fallen prey to. While Cali had not done anything sinful as of yet, he was determined to push her to her very limits.

Having handed her the pink robe, he noted how she refrained from changing into it before his gaze, rather accepting his invitation to fetch fresh water. Undeterred, he pressed forward with his plans.

"Just allow me the opportunity to change out of these also, then I will fetch you some fresh water," Damian offered as he fetched a clean white shirt and clean brown trousers to replace his own muddy attire.

Without one bit of shyness, or apprehension, Damian stripped naked in front of his guest. He paid no attention to her reaction to his nudity, rather making it seem as if he knew no other way. Crossing his arms, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted up, peeling the murky garment from his finely trimmed form. He tossed it to the side, seeing how it flitted to the floor. Then, with equal calmness, he untied the leather bow about his waist and loosened his trousers. Bending at the waist, he lowered his bottoms until they were over his ass, and slid effortlessly to his knees. Damian then stepped purposefully, out of the legs until he was completely naked.

With casual grace, he walked by Cali, to the bed where his clean clothes lay, and proceeded to redress. It mattered none to him that his semi-flaccid cock, that slapped the top of his thigh was on full display as he walked by Cali. Nor did he show any concern as he bent over, giving Cali a clear view of his firm tight buttocks as he picked up his trousers and put them on, pulling them up. He tied the drawstring taut and then pulled the loose-fitting shirt over his head.

Damian turned around and saw Cali staring ...

Calistial

As Damian began to strip, Calistial's eyes widened. She turned away, looking for something, anything, to distract her. She busied herself looking over at the dresser by the side of the bed, yet images of his chest remained in her mind's eye, the way his well-toned body seemed almost to glow in the ambient light. She could hear his clothes dropping away behind her, and then suddenly he walked back into view. Her eyes widened again at the sight of his cock; Calistial had never seen one this close before, and the sight of it was almost hypnotic. It seemed so soft, so innocent, hanging between his legs... she wondered how long it would take for it to grow hard, and how long it would be once it was.

And that's when Damian turned to face her. She blushed and looked away, hoping he hadn't seen her staring but knowing he had.

"Oh... oh my goodness... Pardon me. I didn't mean to stare..." she stammered out as her hands nervously worked at the fabric of the pink garment.

Damian was amused by her looks, a knowing blush coloring her face in such hues that she obviously saw his nudity and was affected by it. It was that sweet temptation that he knew she'd be unable to resist, the temptation to not just look, but hunger and wonder. She could not deny, nor hide from Damian what he saw in her eyes.

He regarded her embarrassment with a sense of confusion, only to belie the fact he did it on purpose. "Sorry? Is there something wrong?" He flashed the cherub a questioning glance. He looked down at himself as if his clothes were on backwards or something? "What is it?"

Damian knew the mere looking upon one's naked flesh by an angel was not a sin. For as he had heard, all were equal, and it was only when one looked upon the naked flesh with lust and hunger was it a sin! He had done it. He had gotten the first sin from her. Surely, he would find feathers fallen from her wings for such indiscretion. It may take a while, but he was determined to collect every one of the golden feathers that adorned her wings, so that she could no longer fly with the likes of her kind.

She did not answer him, and his expression remained confused. But sure enough, there it was, at her feet. Two feathers, one from each wing lay between her feet, the luster of gold, faded from its tips. Damian walked towards her, bent down and picked up the two feathers, holding them for Cali to see. A pained expression was quite visible on her face.

"Is everything all right," he asked, clutching the feathers tightly. Damian thought he saw tears beginning to form. "Maybe I should go fetch some water?" He drifted out of the cottage and left Cali to her own. Once outside, he gloated with glee at his success, and headed toward the brook with a pail in hand.

Calistial

"It is nothing," Calistial said. "Just repercussions from my fall... a lingering vexation that I trust will soon pass... yes, water would be wonderful." Calistial watched as Damian left, the sight of those two fallen feathers heavy in her mind. She knew well what those feathers meant; they were manifestations of her weakness. She inspected her wings for a moment, noticing that two more had fallen at some point when she hadn't noticed. It wouldn't take many more to drop before she would be perpetually land bound...

She sighed deeply, then quickly slid out of her white robe. Her skin was pale and flawless, her body voluptuous and full, perfection of physical beauty and grace. She longed to touch herself, to send her delicate fingers down between her legs where a thatch of fiery crimson down lay nestled, hiding the entrance to her most sacred of places. Yet she resisted. Quickly, she slid into the pink gown, pulling it down over her body and painfully sliding her wings up and out through the low-cut back. Only as she tugged it into place did she realize how poorly sized for her body the garment seemed to be. The lower hem of the robe came only to mid thigh, barely amounting to any modesty at all. She would have to remember to take care when she sat. And above, her breasts were barely contained by the gown; they filled it near to the point of bursting, and an ample display of cleavage nestled at the top. She was about to strip the sinful garment off, but at that moment she heard Damian returning. As he entered, she rose and tried to appear grateful for his generosity, well aware of how the slinky fabric clung to her every curve.

Damian left Calistial to her own, knowing full well she'd fret over the two additional feathers he now owned. His smile widened as he envisioned things he'd like to do with those feathers, things Calistial surely never dreamed of! All in due time! He was taking delight in the gradual demise and transformation. It was much more fulfilling than doing battle. She was not as easy as most mortals, yet he was determined she'd fall to the lowest depths and love every bit of it.

He reached the brook which was only a few feet behind the cottage. He filled the bucket with fresh water which was bubbling over a gathering of smoothed stones. In no time he was on his way back to the house passing by one of the two windows. He stopped, just out of sight, though enough of a clear view to see Calistial changing from her murky garment. The sight was devilishy delicious.

For the first time, he saw the true beauty that was beheld beneath the sheath of garment. Her full voluptuous breasts stood proud without any sag, pert nipples perched perfectly among the mountainous caps. His mouth salivated at the prospect of soon placing his mouth over those peaks and lashing his forked tongue over those nipples till they strained against the puckered flesh.

Then the sight of the downy curls, fiery red, only served to remind him of how ironic that was. Fiery red, down below ... yes indeed it was! His tongue slipped out and bathed his lips, coating them with moisture. Damian could easily imagine his tongue slipping beneath those curls. As he pictured that, he imagined something else slipping in there, and as that played in his mind, it grew and swelled. The bulge in his loose trousers was obvious, and he made no attempt to quell the rise in his pants. Rather, he moved towards the door.

By the time he had reached the door, opened it, and walked through, Calistial had managed to don the pink lingerie. Damian would have much rather Cali remained naked as he had seen her, but the picture before him was just as tempting. He could tell that the cherub was a bit uncomfortable with how much it revealed. There was no denying that it still looked quite wonderful on her.

Damian didn't say anything. He merely smiled politely and walked to her and set the pail down at her feet. As he straightened, the pail no longer hid his arousal. He showed no embarrassment for his obvious swelling. However, he did take note that Cali's eyes did see it!

Damian waited a few seconds as no words were said, not even a 'Thank you' from Cali. "I'll tend to the fire as you clean."

With that, Damian went to the large hearth and poked and prodded, stirring the red embers. As a small flame erupted amidst the ashes Damian added several logs, waiting for the flame to envelop them. He stood by the flames, bent at the waist, his buttocks towards his guest. Once the fire took hold, Damian added several more logs, ensuring the fire would provide warmth through the night, and heat for the cooking he was prepared to do.

He turned to fetch a meal and met eyes with Cali once again. She had cleaned up well.

"You must be hungry. How about if I go gather some food?"

Calistial

The sight of his erection had shocked her. He had to be HUGE in those pants, MUCH larger than the glimpse she'd caught of him naked earlier. She seemed to be hypnotized by the sight, but glanced away as he mentioned tending the fire.

The water felt good; she used it liberally to clean the mud from her legs, arms, face, and wings, and thought again of where those last two feathers had gone. No matter, she supposed... they were gone now. She just had to make sure that she didn't lose any more.

When he asked about food, she looked at him quizzically. She wasn't hungry... angels didn't eat or drink but for pleasure, and apparently her appetite wasn't something that had changed with her fall. That gave her some small token of hope; if she hadn't lost ALL of her angelic features, maybe she could find her way back into heaven after all?

"I am not hungry, but thank you. Certainly, if you're hungry, please eat. I could use some rest, actually, while you do so..." She WAS rather tired... the long walk after her fall had taken much of her energy.

Quizzically Damian regarded her comment, for he truly was famished. He left the cottage in search of food. As soon as he was out of sight, the form of Nefarius took shape. He spread his wings as if from a morning stretch, the snap of his tail was like the crack of thunder. He took to the air and within seconds had made meal of some poor woodland creatures. Their blood still lingered on his lips as he flew back towards the cottage, when he spotted a flock of sheep. He made short order of a young lamb, providing it a quick death, yet not devouring his flesh. He carried the kill to the cottage and settled down.

Once more, Damian took shape and carried the fresh meat into the cottage. True to her words the young maiden was tired for she slept soundly on the bed. Unfortunately for her though, a few tosses and turns upon the bedding had managed to allow her meager clothing to rise up upon her legs, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her sex. The low cut cleavage offered her little modesty also, for a single breast had innocently popped out into plain view.

She was there for the taking. Damian could easily, and innocently take her,for she was teasing him so. But he refrained. He placed the lamb on a skewer and placed it into the fire. He seared the young meat and let it cook over the flame.

In the meantime, Damian fashioned a bed upon the floor with some extra blankets, right aside where Calistial slept. So close, and the temptation was great. However, Damian closed his eyes and untied the knot to his pants. He lowered his trousers and kicked them off. With visions of her nakedness in his head, Damian began stroking himself, his hand wrapping tightly around his shaft. Up and down his hand began moving, faster and faster as he envisioned the things he'd do with Cali. In no time at all, Damian felt the urge to explode.

It was at that moment, that an evil image filled his brain, and he acted on impulse. Rising to his feet, Damian stood over the sleeping one and stroked harder and faster until he could hold back no longer. He aimed his cock over her wings and coated them with his sticky semen, matting the fine hairs of her golden feathers. By the time she woke, they'd dry, he was sure. But they might stick together.

Damian shrugged, looking at how great she looked, and could only wait until his semen was coating other parts of her body. He lowered himself back onto the blankets and slept. He slept below Cali on the hardened floor, in the nude, as she slept comfortably above him.

Damian wasn't sure how long he had slept, but it was Cali that had stirred him awake!

Calistial

Calistial woke early in the morning, yawning and stretching. She winced slightly as she stretched her wings; the pain was almost gone, though, but there remained a strange numbness in them that actually worried her more than the pain had. She turned her head, and noticed something strange on her left wing. A sticky residue had spattered all over them. Curious, she reached out with a finger to touch the sticky white stuff, rubbing a dollop of it off on the pad of her finger. She raised that finger to her nose and sniffed; the musky scent made her head spin. Next, she touched that fingertip to her tongue, and the taste filled her mouth with an unexpected but quite delicious flavor. A flavor that made her belly tingle in a strange, pleasant way. She reached back to scoop up some more, but froze as an entire feather came off in her hand. She gasped, dropping the feather onto the bed. When she saw that her gasp and motions had caused Damian to stir, she quickly hid the come-stained feather under her pillow and pulled up her sheets around her, watching as he woke.

Damian yawned and stretched languidly, taking considerable time to come from the depths of sleep. He made special effort to ensure that it was known that he was quite uncomfortable with the sleeping accomodations. Damian rolled about the blankets on the floor, clutching his back as if it pained him to even move. He craned and twisted his neck, the sound of creaking bones filling the cottage's air. It had actually taken him quite some time to finally rise from his sleeping position.

Damian stood and rose to the hearth, the fire having dwindled during his sleep. The young lamb, having blackened accordingly, still remained skewered high above the tiny flames. Holding the cast iron poker, her stirred the embers once again, reigniting the dance of the flames. The heat from the fire warmed his naked flesh.

It was only after the fire had been well tended to, did Damian make an effort to dress. His casual, cavalier movements around the cottage seemed as if it were only natural for him to do as he was doing, to do as he had done so long, in the absence of any guests. So why should he do any different, now that he had a guest in his household, regardless of where it was she came from?

Back to the lamb, he tore from it a chunk of blackened carcass, and took a healthy bite. It was only then, that he turned back to the bed and noted Calistial staring back at him, a strange look upon her face. She was turned and strained in such a manner that it was clear she was tending to the feathers of her wings. He wondered if any had fallen during her sleep? His honest debasement by itself could not have caused such an event ... unless she found a certain knowing pleasure of such? Or maybe, maybe she was having impure thoughts as he walked around in the nude? Or had she woken during the night and spied upon his naked flesh in lustful ways?

He held out his hand, the meat within. "You sure you wouldn't like some? It's quite tasty, and nourishing." He licked his lips, moistening them with the flavor of the meat.

"You okay?"

Calistial

Calistial started as he addressed her. She shifted up in the bed a little, feeling how the sheets and pillowcase under her tugged slightly as they stuck to whatever the stuff was that had dried to a tacky film on her wings.

"Oh... no, thank you for the offer again, but I do not need to eat. But do not let that bother you... feel free to eat. I will not be offended at all."

She looked around the small cabin, as if realizing for the first time just how small and unassuming the place was.

"Your home... it seems so small, so simple. Is this really all you have in your life? Do not people have desires? Needs for physical wealth, to accumulate trophies and glory?"

Calistial knew that there were a rare few mortals who chose simpler lives, to eschew material things in favor for a more pure life. If, in fact, Damian was one of these mortals... perhaps he could help her? Perhaps his pure soul could serve as a guide for her back into heaven? The thought of executing him made her shiver in revulsion, for he had done nothing wrong, and if he HAD done something deserving of an angel's wrath, of course he wouldn't be going to heaven when he died. She sighed in frustration, wondering if this was just another test the Lord had set in her path.

Damian listened to Calistial and wondered if she had listened to a word he had said on the way over? Nonetheless, he reiterated, to reinforce the lie he had perpetrated.

"I now not of what you speak. This is all I know. I live each day as it is given to me, and enjoy it to its fullest. I live by the means with which my parents taught me. It's only been us in these hills. Only once in every few moons do others pass through. Mostly travelers, or traders are the only ones passing through. I do recall one time a wayward family, and another some hunters, had asked about passage. Tis the way I've been raised."

Damian then sat on the bed at Calistial's feet, looking quizzically at her, with the blanket pulled up around her neck. He reached out and touched her leg and noted how she jerked beneath the covers.

"Why is it you ask such questions? And why is it you seem so scared?"

He was rubbing his hand up and down her leg as he continued to talk to her.

"Cali? Please tell me more about you. Why is it don't you eat? What is it about your wings? Shouldn't you have a halo or something? I mean, Momma told me about angels, but she didn't describe them like you. How is it that you're so different?"

Calistial

It felt strange, a bit shocking, in fact, to hear Damian call her an angel. She had never spoken of what she was to him, although it had been obvious from the start that he knew what she was.

"I... I have fallen," she said, her voice soft and quiet. "During that fall, my wings were damaged and my halo stripped from me. If I am to regain them, I must prove to my Lord that I am worthy. I have been cast down here to the world to be among mortals, to be tempted, and if I can resist what temptations saw me cast down for a year and a day, and if in that year and a day I can redeem one soul lost to Hell, only then shall I be allowed back into heaven."

It felt relieving to say all this to this man, even though at the back of Calistial's mind tiny warning bells were ringing, warning her not to speak so freely in front of a man who she knew so vaguely.

"As for my appetite... I suppose that is something my lord has elected to let me keep. As an angel, I need not eat. I suspect he allowed me to retain this minor quality to remind me that I am not human, that I am not like you."

She sighed. "Your mother did not speak of me, Damian, because I am not to be admired. I am fallen, and I do not deserve your admiration or the admiration of any of your brothers or sisters."

"Brothers and sisters, I have none. I am one, alone. I try to understand, yet we are different." Damian continued stroking Calistial's legs, his touches deliberate and smooth. It was an innocent gesture, yet one, he hoped was having some kind of an effect on Calistial. "A year and a day? Are you to be here with me that whole time? Is mine a soul lost to Hell? Are you here to save me?"

Damian's eyes were full of confusion, a multitude of expressions crossing his face. It was an excellent acting performance, one he hoped would convince Calistial, he was no threat, but a mere innocent wanderer among the battle without knowledge or influence. He wanted her to see him as merely a curious one with many questions, questions only she could answer.

Damian knew he might have to resort to more drastic measures if he were to tempt the young one. He hope however, he wouldn't have to resort to such tactics unless absolutely necessary. His hand continued to stroke her legs, when his eyes lit up with an idea.

"Would you like to go for a ride?"

Calistial

The way Damian was rubbing her leg felt strangely pleasant, and on one hand Calistial wanted him to rub more of her, to slide his hand higher, but then she realized where those thoughts were leading her and she pulled her leg away as she slid out of the other side of the bed. She smoothed down the rumpled, wrinkled pink gown she was wearing, frustrated with how high it rode on her legs and how low-cut the front was.

She turned to face Damian and shrugged. "What do you mean by 'ride'?" Had she been less naive, Calistial would have read the sexual innuendo into the comment, but as it was she simply wasn't sure what he was talking about. "Horseback? Or do you have an automobile or other conveyance you speak of? In any event, I suppose getting out of this house would be nice... but I don't think I should be going anywhere where anyone could see me." She flexed her wings. "I mean... causing a scene in a public place like this probably wouldn't do so much for my chances of getting back into heaven..."

Damian smiled to himself, watching Calistial as she jerked away from his ministrations, which had obviously created some tension. As she slid out of the bed, he took great delight in the pink gown he had chosen for her. It offered him a great view of her creamy legs all the way to her shapely thighs. The generous expanse of cleavage offered to him was also quite delicious. He licked his lips at the thought of how sweet her sugar would taste upon his tongue.

However, as Calistial questioned his request, he became annoyed at her worrisome nature. He was also quite upset that she hadn't answered him about his soul and if she were there to save him? Nevertheless, he remaine calm and reiterated their status as the only people on the mountain.

"Cali? I've told you! Are you not listening to me? We are the only ones on this mountain. Visitors, we have none. Do you mean to stay inside this cottage the entire year and a day? Are you never to set foot outside? Are you never to kiss the warmth of the sun and all that nature offers? Locked up inside, is definitely a form of punishment, but I can't see you saving any souls if you are locked up and never face an individual?"

There was a bit of uneasiness in his voice. He was irritated, no doubt, though he remained calm through his questioning. He then replied to her travel concerns.

"As far as the ride? There is no auto that could handle this terrain. The only transportation offered through here is by foot, or by horseback. So? I ask again, would you like to go for a ride?"

Calistial

Calistial noticed the strange edge entering Damian's voice... frustration, was it? Yet at the same time, she realized he probably had plenty to be on edge about... as simple as he said his life was, hiding an angel in your home had to complicate matters for anyone.

Of course, she'd certainly seen her share of horse riders in the past, but Calistial had never tried to ride a horse herself. What was the point when you could fly? Yet nevertheless, the proud beasts had always struck her with their nobility and power. Riding a horse might be an interesting first step in learning about the mortal world and how she could find her way back above.

"Yes, Damian," she said, finally. "A horse ride sounds wonderful. Yet... do you have something more appropriate that I could wear? This hardly seems like a horseback riding outfit to me..."