CHAPTER 154: WHEN ANGELS BEG (18+)

The throne room reeked of heat, sex, and victory.

Allen slouched lazily in the pulsing, moaning seat of flesh beneath him—his cock still hard, streaked with drying cum and milky demon cream. Around him, the succubi were in a daze, sprawled across the floor like used toys, their bellies round and twitching, faces flushed in afterglow worship. The Demon Queen lay at his feet, moaning softly every time her womb throbbed with life. Her glowing skin shimmered, her body visibly pregnant already with the spawn of her conqueror.

But the silence didn’t last.

A scream echoed from the massive obsidian gates—high-pitched, terrified, and strangely... holy.

Allen’s eyes twitched toward the noise as the doors creaked open, pushed not by claws or demon hands, but by armored knights clad in ivory and gold. A dozen priests and inquisitors poured into the corrupted chamber, each gripping blessed weapons, their faces pale with shock at the depravity they’d walked into.

Their leader—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a golden halo and silver cross etched across his chestplate—stepped forward.

"Demon scum!" he bellowed. "Release the priestesses you’ve corrupted and surrender! In the name of the Holy Flame—"

His voice cut off when Allen stood.

Still naked. Still erect.

Still dripping with enough cum to coat a cathedral.

The man flinched.

The succubi began to giggle, low and sensual, licking their lips as their glowing, stretched bodies shimmered in the torchlight.

Allen didn’t speak.

He just walked—slow, deliberate, cock swinging like a weapon forged by lust itself. The holy knights raised their swords, but their eyes flicked—again and again—to the thick, veiny shaft bobbing between his legs.

One of the younger priests whimpered. His knees buckled.

Allen stopped in front of the leader, cock now eye level with the man’s stunned, trembling face.

"I’m the reason your priestesses stopped praying," Allen muttered, voice low and magnetic. "Because when I fill their holes, they scream louder than your sermons."

And before the man could react, a familiar voice echoed from behind the knights.

"Master..."

A gasp spread through the room. One of the "captured" priestesses stepped out—her once-white robes torn and transparent, her eyes glowing faintly red, and her thighs soaked with lingering lust. She dropped to her knees before Allen, mouth open, tongue out.

Allen shoved his cock into her throat without hesitation. Her neck bulged, her eyes rolled back, and the wet sound of slurping devoured the silence.

GLRRK—SLRP—GGHHK—!!

The knights were frozen in place.

Then another priestess emerged. And another. Six in total—all corrupted, all broken, all addicted.

They surrounded Allen like worshippers, their hands trailing up his legs, their bodies slick and eager. One began licking his balls, another rubbed her breasts against his ass as if begging to be noticed. They moaned his name in reverence. His name had become their religion.

The haloed knight dropped his sword.

"You... you turned them... into this...?"

Allen grabbed the nearest priestess by her waist, spun her around, and bent her over one of the holy knights’ shields, still glowing with faint divine light. Her pussy was already dripping.

He slammed into her with a growl.

THHRRMP—SLKCHH—THMP—!!

She screamed in divine ecstasy, her voice shattering the silence like stained glass under a hammer. The holy shield melted under the heat of their union.

"Salvation," she moaned between thrusts, "finally feels real—ohh fuuuckk~!!"

The other priestesses began to beg.

"My turn, Master—please! My womb is empty!"

"Fill me next! I want to feel holy!"

Allen kept thrusting harder. Faster. His balls slapped against her soaked thighs, his cock visibly bulging through her belly. Cum from the earlier orgy still dripped onto the ruined tiles, mixing with the gold-painted boots of the stunned knights.

One of the inquisitors fell to his knees. He whimpered.

"What... what is this temptation...?"

A corrupted priestess crawled toward him and whispered into his ear.

"It’s not temptation. It’s truth."

She mounted him before he could answer.

Screams echoed. Moans rose. Swords dropped to the floor like forgotten relics.

Allen came hard inside the girl bent over the shield—his cum gushing out of her like a ruptured baptism. Her womb bloated instantly, her tongue lolling out as she collapsed in pure bliss.

He pulled out and turned to the rest.

"Line up," he growled. "Mouths open. Knees spread."

They obeyed without question.

And Allen walked the row—cock slapping each tongue, sliding between soaked thighs, jerking and twitching with the power of a man who had defiled Heaven’s finest.

Behind him, more of Hell’s demonesses watched, slowly crawling forward to join the feast.

And above them all, the Demon Queen laughed softly from the throne, her belly full, her legs spread wide, one hand rubbing her cunt like a purring cat.

"Heaven’s fucked," she whispered. "And he hasn’t even touched the angels yet."

Allen turned to the throne room doors.

He knew what came next.

The angels would descend, swords raised and wings wide, determined to cleanse the filth.

And he’d show them exactly how good it felt to be dirty.

The sky cracked.

Not like thunder.

Like glass.

Shards of light rained through the torn ceiling of the throne room, slicing through the demonic haze in jagged halos. Trumpets screamed, not from mouths, but from the air itself—divine noise made manifest. The corrupted priestesses flinched, shielding their eyes, their corrupted bodies hissing against the sudden purity.

Allen didn’t flinch.

He stood at the center of it all, cum still dripping from his cock, bare-chested, smeared in sin. The aura of his dominance pulsed like a second heartbeat—hungry, thick, inevitable.

Wings unfurled.

Golden.

Feathered.

Pristine.

They descended in a slow, rigid spiral—seven angelic warriors in gleaming armor, blades of crystal light strapped to their backs, breasts wrapped in divine silk, glowing with untouched righteousness. They hovered just above the floor, untouched by filth.

The lead angel landed first.

She had white-gold hair, eyes like untouched snow, and lips shaped into permanent disapproval. Her chestplate was molded perfectly to her heavenly tits, nipples barely hidden behind ethereal glass. The sword in her hand pulsed with holy judgment.

"Allen," she said, her voice a whisper that cracked stone. "Your defilement ends here."

Allen tilted his head.

"Defilement?" He gestured lazily to the priestess still twitching on the ground, cum leaking out of her like an overused chalice. "I call it enlightenment."

Another angel landed behind her—taller, darker-skinned, but no less radiant. Her wings flicked once in irritation.

"You think your seed can corrupt us?" she hissed. "You’ve defiled weak mortals and mindless demons. But we are seraphim."

Allen smirked. "And seraphim still moan when fucked properly."

The angels hissed in unison, wings bristling.

The lead one surged forward, blade raised.

But Allen didn’t dodge.

He raised one finger.

A pulse of power surged from his skin—a ripple of raw, dripping lust, heavy and inescapable. The moment it hit her, the lead angel froze mid-strike. Her wings faltered. Her breathing hitched.

She dropped to her knees.

Hard.

Her blade clattered to the ground. Her mouth opened—but not to speak.

To pant.

"No... what... what have you—" Her words caught in her throat as her thighs slammed together, body shaking violently. Her face flushed with pink, then crimson, then shame.

Allen stepped forward, cock bobbing.

"Say it," he whispered. "What do you want?"

"I... I don’t..." she whispered, face twisted in conflict. "I was... holy..."

He grabbed her by the chin, tilted her head up. Her lips were trembling.

"Beg," he growled.

And she did.

"I want your cock... I want it inside me—I want to be ruined."

The other angels gasped in horror—but none moved.

Allen slammed into her.

THRRRMP—SLKHHK—WHMP—WHMP—!!!

The holy aura around her shattered like a broken hymn. Her halo twisted, warped, then snapped into a jagged crescent. Her moans weren’t human—they were divine, like a choir climaxing in one unified note of bliss.

She clawed at his back.

"I feel it—I feel the sin—I’m drowning—aaAAHHH~!!!"

He pulled out mid-thrust and dragged the next angel forward.

"No," she cried. "Please—don’t—"

But her cunt betrayed her. Soaking. Slick. Ready.

Allen forced her onto all fours, yanked her armored skirt up, and slid in with one brutal stroke.

SPLLLLRCH—FHHWMP—SLRP—THWACK!!

Behind him, the rest were trembling.

One angel was openly fingering herself, her gloves wet and shiny with arousal. Another had dropped her weapon and was slowly licking cum from the floor. One had fallen backward, legs spread wide, grinding against a holy scroll as if trying to unwrite it with her soaked slit.

Allen moved between them like a force of nature.

He turned purity into filth.

Turned prayer into whimpers.

He made them beg not for salvation—but for more.

"Breed me, o defiler!"

"I renounce my wings—just please, fill me again!"

"Blessed be thy cock—Holy is thy thrust!"

One by one, their halos cracked.

Their wings dimmed.

And their wombs swelled with unholy seed.

Allen stood amid the pile of twitching, panting, creampied angels, his cock still erect, shining with a mix of holiness and sin.

He lifted the last one—small, silver-haired, still clinging to the last fragments of divinity—and held her upside down by the thighs. Her eyes widened as she stared at his twitching cock inches from her face.

"Still think I can’t corrupt you?" he asked.

She whimpered. "I want you to try..."

He plunged into her dripping pussy while she hung suspended, her scream echoing like a church bell struck too hard.

And as he fucked her, the last rays of heavenly light above shattered.

Darkness fell.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was his.