Crown of the Endless Flesh

Chapter 5: Blasphemous Consequences

The city groaned beneath me as the sky tore open.

They came just after dawn, when the night’s filth still clung to my thighs, when Caliel lay naked and ruined beside me, her halo shattered in the gutter. Lucien had vanished into shadow, the coward. But I didn’t blame him.

Heaven had sent its hunters.

Seraphim. True angels. Not like Caliel—not beautiful, breakable things—but living flame and blade. They dropped from the sky like comets, wings made of searing white light, their voices screeching in a language that cracked glass.

And I smiled.

Because I was ready.

I stood there, naked, blood on my mouth, cum on my thighs, shadow-forged blade in my hand, and met them like a queen welcoming executioners.

The first one landed before me—a towering angel wrapped in chains of fire. He raised his sword, eyes blind with holy rage.

“You defiled one of ours,” he said. “You will be unmade.”

I stepped forward, ran my blade across my own palm, let the blood spill. “Then come unmake me, motherfucker.”

He struck.

I danced.

His blade kissed my skin, slicing across my side, burning like acid. I moaned, the pain electric, my cunt throbbing. I returned the favor with a slash that took one of his glowing wings clean off.

He screamed.

The others swarmed.

And I unleashed.

I cut through them like a storm of knives and hunger, screaming with laughter as holy blades cut into me, blood streaming down my thighs like second cum. One pinned me to a wall, drove his sword through my shoulder. I bit his face. Another grabbed my throat—choking me while I came from the pressure, grinding my blood-soaked pussy against his leg.

And then Caliel rose.

She was different now. Naked, glowing, dripping with sin and fury. Her eyes were no longer innocent—they burned like mine. She flew into them with a scream, spearing one of her own sisters through the chest with a stolen spear.

“She is MINE!” Caliel howled, covered in blood and sex.

They hesitated—just long enough for me to pull myself free.

I summoned chains from the ground, dragging two seraphs to their knees. I kicked one in the face, slammed the other’s head into a wall, then mounted the third like a beast.

“I’ll show you what unmaking feels like,” I snarled, grinding my slit against his armored chest, smearing blood and cum across his purity. “Feel this fucking fall.”

I forced his face between my legs, made him lick me as his wings burned away.

Caliel fought beside me, soaked in gore, eyes wide with lust. She grabbed the last angel by the throat and kissed her—hard—before tearing her wings out and screaming in orgasm as blood poured over her.

By the time it ended, the alley was painted in divine viscera. Feathers littered the ground. Holy swords lay broken. My body was sliced open in a dozen places, but I was still standing. Still wet. Still hungry.

I looked at Caliel. Her face was smeared with blood, lips parted, eyes begging.

“Fuck me,” she whispered. “Hurt me.”

I dragged her into the filth, mounted her on a pile of holy corpses, and rammed my cock into her cunt so deep she screamed. I bit her shoulder, twisted her nipples, shoved fingers into her ass until she sobbed with bliss.

And I fucked her through the fall.