Chapter 29 #2
I wasn’t entirely ignorant of what it meant to be a seraphim, but if her weakness was humiliation, nothing was more humiliating than someone so obviously your lesser bending you completely to their will, forcing you to debase yourself again and again.
The less educated she believed me to be, the more shame she would feel giving in to the pleasure I offered.
Her ability to change forms already revealed she was an ascended seraphim and not a born seraphim, and that distinction was important to celestials.
A seraphim could come to be in one of two ways: They were the offspring of full-fledged seraphim and were, therefore, born as seraphim, or they were born on lower planes and earned the right to ascend to the seraphim plane.
The concept of ascension took me some time to grasp in terms of mechanics and philosophy.
Paladins like Paulson the Pure saw ascension as a reward for being exceptionally noble.
If you were a really, really good person, a celestial would invite you into the heavens where you could reap the rewards of your dutiful commitment to righteousness, but that was a naive oversimplification.
The actual process was far similar to Solara’s Spell Forgemaster quest in that one had to meet several criteria before ever setting foot on the next plane up.
Any physical being could travel between planes regardless of what they were and what choices they had made in their lives, but the ascension process specifically forbade visiting an upper plane prematurely.
If you attempted to do so too early, your ascension would be forever tainted, and you would never progress further than you had at that point.
Again, the physical act of moving from one world to another was always possible, but the ascension process was like an esoteric secret society.
You weren’t allowed to go through that door yet because an unseen force said so.
If you did it anyway, you were banned from the club for life. No do-overs. No second chances.
If you moved to the next plane up and met the unspoken requirements of becoming a higher being, that new plane rewarded you with a litany of system-based benefits that were akin to unlocking a class upgrade.
You could, at will, take the physical form unique to the plane, access new spells and abilities, and receive several extreme stat buffs.
Most beings who ascended stayed in their highest form because of the status it reflected, but in practice, they could take their original form whenever they liked.
The angeli depicted in most religious texts were humans who ascended to the plane of the angeli.
They could fully transform into the Cici-like statue forms, or they could transform in pieces, hence why these illustrations had a human body with angeli wings.
They chose partial transformations so that humans were more comfortable interacting with them.
I didn’t know his actual history, but if Arcturus was born on the plane of angeli and ascended five times to reach the plane of dominions, he would have six total forms, his original and then one for each of the new planes he reached.
If he were born on the plane of dominions, then he had but that one form.
The exact requirements for a successful ascension were not publicly known, but the general path seemed to be an extreme amount of leveling, a great deal of prayer and meditation on the virtues, socially significant actions and achievements, and an unwavering faith in yourself and the heavens.
The seraphim before me had worked to reach her station, toiling to meet the requirements of ascension.
“In truth, your rank or status or title doesn’t matter to me,” I said. “Regardless of where we start, I know this will end with you begging me for mercy.”
The beginnings of a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You believe you can satisfy me?”
“My specialty is breaking powerful women. My cock doesn’t care what accolades you’ve earned.”
“Ha! You are the animal Arcturus promised.”
“Come here,” I commanded.
“No.”
“Disobedience will be punished.”
“I will never submit to a human.”
My silk bracers unfurled and shot forward, snatching her wrists. With a stiff yank, I pulled the seraphim toward me and onto her stomach. Her full cheeks jiggled from the force when she landed.
“If you dare to touch my skin, you will burn,” she said with sadistic glee. “You are evil incarnate, and I am the pinnacle of holiness. Your party tricks-” she paused to tug on the silk around her wrists. “Your party tricks don’t scare me.”
Her diamond eyes followed me as I walked around the bed, but the rest of her remained still.
“That weakness works both ways, from what I understand,” I replied. “Holy hurts me. Unholy hurts you. What we’re really debating is who is more capable of managing the pain.”
That last part was a lie. I had Immunity from Holy. The only person who would suffer here was face down on her bed, believing she was entirely safe.
“Of the two of us,” she began, “I believe it is I who is more capable.”
I brought a bare hand down on her ass with a quarter of my strength. The sting was sharp and loud, like the crack of a whip.
“Ah!” she cried, twisting to look over her own shoulder. “What? How-”
The second spank was half of my strength.
“Oh gods…” she whimpered.
Sensing that another strike was imminent, she turned to roll to her back, to hide her ass from punishment.
“Tisk tisk,” I scolded. “You’re being a bad girl.”
I sent two more ribbons of silk out and latched onto her ankles.
I tugged her arms and legs in opposite directions, stretching her body taut on the bed.
Her breasts were too large for her to lie perfectly flat, their mass squeezing out from either side of her ribs, like balls of dough pressed flat.
I threw the pillows and blankets aside until she was the only thing left.
If she wanted comfort, if she wanted soft and gentle, she would have to earn it from me.
Reaching out, I rubbed and squeezed the ass cheek I just slapped.
“You’re getting welts already,” I teased. “Your skin is so soft, so fragile.”
“Release me.”
Smack. “I tell you what to do,” I explained. “You don’t give me orders.”
“Fool. You-”
Smack.
“Stop it-”
Smack.
“Gods! Please.”
I slid my hand up the back of her neck and into her angelic hair. It felt like thousands of silk threads that had sat in the warmth of the sun. With a fistful, I gently–relatively–pulled back on her head and leaned over to look her in the eyes.
“We’ve barely started the first act,” I said. “If you’re struggling this much already, I’m worried you won’t last.”
“Your soul be damned.”
I grinned. “The game is simple. If you follow orders, you will be rewarded. If you endure my tests, you will be rewarded. If you disobey or if you fail, you will be punished. This is going to be hard no matter what, but it’s up to you just how hard it gets. Tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
My grip on her hair relaxed. “Now you’re getting it.”
Since this was a paid session, I wouldn’t earn Will points. If ever there was an exception to that rule, this should have been it. Even without the Will points, however, bending a seraphim was incredibly rewarding.
I ran my hand down her back, a delicate caress slow enough to appreciate the arch of her spine between her wings. I continued that gentleness, over her ass, along her thighs, and finally to the soles of her bare feet.
The spanking resumed. She thrashed and yelped and cried out, but I didn’t stop. Ten slaps later, I paused to let her rest. Her butt was a collage of red handprints.
“Say, ‘thank you,’” I commanded.
She glared but seemed to think better of defying me. “Thank you,” she grumbled.
With Silkmancer, I lifted her from the bed.
Hanging from her wrists and ankles bent her like a hammock, gravity pulling her hips low while my restraints kept her hands and feet high.
I paused a moment to sample her boobs, their enormity fascinating me.
Two hands weren’t enough to contain all of one breast, and it seemed as if her very skin wasn’t quite enough to contain them either.
They were taut like overfilled waterskins, like milk could surge forth if I squeezed too hard.
I released my grip and slapped one of her dangling tits.
“No, please,” she managed, the strain of her suspension reflecting in her voice.
I smacked again just to hear her gasp.
I dipped into the bag I had brought with me and produced two small glass cups.
“One of my girls made these,” I told the seraphim as I set a cup to suction one of her big nipples. “The blood flow really amplifies how sensitive the skin can get,” I added, as I set the other.
She fought to swallow her moan.
“We can make that a little bit stronger… There.”
The seraphim bit her lip.
“What do you say?” I asked.
She stared at me with defiance, and I shook my head with disappointment.