Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13670832.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      Darksiders_(Video_Games)
  Relationship:
      Death_(Darksiders)/Original_Character(s), War_(Darksiders)/Original
      Character(s), Strife_(Darksiders)/Original_Character(s)
  Character:
      Four_Horsemen_of_the_Apocalypse_(Darksiders), Vulgrim_(Darksiders),
      Lilith_(Darksiders), Angels_(Darksiders)
  Additional Tags:
      Erotica, Angst, Master/Slave, Bondage, Spanking, Humiliation, Vaginal
      Fingering, Anal_Sex, Loss_of_Virginity, Lesbian_Sex, Sexual_Slavery,
      Cunnilingus, Masturbation, Mutual_Masturbation, Oral_Sex, Hermaphrodites,
      Original_Character(s), Originally_Posted_on_FanFiction.Net, Fallen
      Angels, Hybrids, Dom/sub, Dominance, Orphans, Nipple_Play, Nipple
      Licking, Sibling_Incest, Brother/Sister_Incest, Implied/Referenced
      Incest, Anal_Fingering, Sadism, Masochism, Threesome_-_F/F/F, Implied/
      Referenced_Rape/Non-con, Unplanned_Pregnancy, Sex_Toys, Torture,
      Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Stockholm_Syndrome, Girl_Penis, Nephilim,
      Hair-pulling, Foot_Fetish, Cum_Inflation, No_Romance, Nipple_Piercings,
      Double_Penetration
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-14 Completed: 2018-02-28 Chapters: 9/9 Words: 31223
****** Death's Slave ******
by MillionHaunting
Summary
     Ophelia Carnby, a doe-eyed seventeen year old girl finds herself
     orphaned during the end days. In need of a young slave, Death takes
     her in and gives her a new life. Under his orders, Ophelia must learn
     to abandon her little girl mindset or forever remain bound to her
     ideals.
Notes
     *Disclaimer*
     I do not own the Darksiders franchise nor am I doing this for profit.
     I am merely a fan.
     Also! I want to give a shoutout to Aragem for inspiring me to write
     this piece. You rule!
     - Heather
***** Wasted Days *****
Ophelia stared at the demon merchant. Her eyes never leaving the basket of
fruit around his waist as he made amends with an armored Nephilim. There were
shiny red apples free from brown spots and scratches, ripe pears the color of
champagne, grapes without seeds still attached to the vine, orchid plums that
glistened gallantly in the sunlight; Strawberries, cherries, pomegranates, any
kind of fruit imaginable all contained within the basket. Ophelia longed for
them all.
It had been days she had eaten properly. She had neglected her hunger, but when
he-Vulgrim - had brought the barrel, she was ravenous. Alas, she was afraid of
him. As she was of every passing Nephilim who so much as glanced her way. This
whole ordeal had reminded her of The Goblin Market. Ophelia could just picture
herself as the sister who had fallen into temptation of the fruit. It made her
even more weary than before at the prospect of that metaphor. She had arrived
three mornings ago on horseback as Vulgrim had told her. Truthfully, she hadn’t
remembered much save for what had happened before her arrival. After that,
everything went to black. Ophelia sighed and rested her head against a weeping
willow not even daring to ask Vulgrim for so much as an apple. He scared her.
It didn’t matter how charming he appeared to be.
Her wrists and feet were bound by a pair of rusted shackles tied to a couple of
gnarled, uprooted stumps if she planned an escape. Even she thought that was
silly of him to do. Where, on Earth or wherever she was, would she possibly run
to? Vulgrim had dressed her in a cream white tunic complete with a headband of
equally white roses. Almost a hundred Nephilim had bidded on her already. One
going so far in attempt to rip her tunic. Vulgrim had stolen it from a fallen
angel upon one of his scouting’s. He was thinking of selling it when the
armored Nephilim made him a deal over Ophelia who left off with an antique
stalker’s bone dagger.
Upon Ophelia’s waking, she screamed and tried kicking him even spat at him. It
wasn’t until he had managed to drug her with one of his elixirs that she calmed
down enough to allow Vulgrim to bathe her free of the layers of dirt, dust, and
debris that had claimed her skin. Once he finished, he dried her off with a
makeshift towel, dressed her only in the angel’s tunic allowing her to keep her
panties underneath, and led her to a stone-table that contained a primitive
hairbrush, various pallets of eyeshadow, blush lipstick, and a long gold tube
of mascara.
“Where did you get this?” Ophelia asked in a dream pointing to the possessions.
“Off an angel, of course.” Vulgrim said curtly.
“Did you kill her?” Ophelia’s voice sounded distant; albeit still accusatory.
Vulgrim giggled sounding much like a hyena.
“You really find me the murderous type? I am but a simple merchant. I only take
what I can sell. Now, make yourself look approachable. You have precisely five
minutes.”
Ophelia feeling like she had just awoken from a long, long slumber studied the
eyeshadow pallet. The makeup itself was the color of sand on pair with her
brown eyes giving her the appearance of an Egyptian goddess. Ophelia started on
her hair. Running sleepy strokes through her red wet knots and tangles. The
soap he had washed her with was lilac scented. Not her first choice, but that
hardly mattered to her right now. She was glad to be rid of the dirt and grime
that once caked her skin. Once she was done, she applied the eye makeup.
Vulgrim appeared in the middle of finishing her eyeshadow. He was holding what
looked to be a wreath.
“Here, wear this.”
Vulgrim’s alligator smile becoming wider as his eyes took in her appearance.
She will make a lot of Nephilim happy. Of that I am for certain.
Ophelia now felt like a whole new alias. She was not just some whore. She was a
scared, exhausted, human girl who should have been with her mother back at the
shelter.
Ophelia longed to hold herself like her mother would when she was frightened.
The enticement of the fruit now waning. The dins of the Nephilim as they made
lewd remarks, Vulgrim’s chides all made her wish to be away even more.
Defeated, alone, depressed and still suffering from the after effects of that
strange drug Vulgrim had given her, she rested her head on the tree and closed
her eyes.
Those damn monsters. Through the cabinet. The rubble. My mother…
Ophelia awoke in horror to the digging of claws riving at her tunic. She
screamed as she was met face to face with a Nephilim who looked to have pebbles
plastered onto his face like growths. His eyes appeared swollen and dangerous
like a jackal’s.
“Stop! What are you doing?!”
Ophelia helplessly struggled as the bust ripped in half. Giving him a view of
her breasts in plain sight. This proved an interesting sight for the other
Nephilim as well. For they were already jeering at her attacker. Ophelia
screamed at him to the fit of tears to leave her alone. However, Vulgrim
intervened.
“Enough! I will not have you defiling my slave if you cannot so much as bid on
her. Show me your souls. Only then may you use her as you please.” He barked.
The attacker only grunted and turned on his heels. Ophelia remained sobbing.
Vulgrim glared down at her in disbelief.
“Brush yourself off, slave. He didn’t hurt you. You should be lucky that other
Nephilim brought you here. Otherwise you would’ve ended up like the rest your
kind or worse.” With that, he left.
Ophelia scowled at him and tried fixing her shredded tunic over her breasts.
Slave. That was all he referred to her as. Vulgrim never once bothered to ask
her name, let alone her age. She guessed that was just regular procedure which
infuriated her even more that situations like hers were considered “regular
procedure”. The chains scratched at her skin.
She groaned. Fearing tetanus from the amount of rust on them.
Over a hundred of those psychos are bidding on me right now and all I’m afraid
of is tetanus?
Even if she could slip out of her shackles somehow, where would she go? She was
in an open space. Kind of. A valley, nearly looking like the ones back on
Earth. Save for many of Vulgrim’s charms hung from every nook and cranny to
entice a fellow customer.
Souls  of who?
A few minutes later Vulgrim appeared with a painted jug of cool water. Ophelia
drank it in mouthfuls.
“Enjoy it while you can my slave. You must keep hydrated.” Vulgrim sneered
taking it back once she was finished.
“Please, may I have some fruit?” She timidly asked, wiping her mouth.
Vulgrim grinned down at her with his sharp jagged teeth that reminded her so
much of an alligator.
“For something so ethereal,” he began beguilingly “there is an equally ethereal
fee.”
Again, with the riddles.
“You sold my book bag yesterday. How am I supposed to pay for it?” Ophelia
replied grudgingly.
Upon discovering her bag, Vulgrim had held it for an auction the day previous.
Ophelia had watched in horror as the new holder ransacked it. Flipping through
her drawing book, her schoolbooks, pressing on the screen of her phone. Ophelia
wanted so badly to break free of her cuffs and jump on his back, screaming at
him to release it.
Vulgrim only sniggered.
“Sweet, sweet slave. There is still so much you need to learn. If fruit is what
you truly desire, then feed my desire. I will unlock those restricting shackles
if you come to terms with my deal. Can you do that?”
Ophelia’s stomach paned from hunger.
“Yes.” She said casting her eyes down.
“Good girl.”
Vulgrim hovered over to her producing keys from his belt. Once he unlocked
them, he took her sharply by the arm. His sharp nails digging into her flesh.
Ophelia winced.
“Now, go to your bedchamber and undress.”
“What?” Ophelia whipped her head at him. Imagining herself looking like a
frightened girl from Woodstock.
“Calm yourself. I’m not planning on defiling you. That is not my place. Now go
your bed chamber and undress.” He repeated.
Ophelia narrowed her eyes at him then stomped off.
You fucking auction me off now plan to use my body as a means to an end? Oh,
God what is he planning on doing to me?
Ophelia began trembling as she undid her tunic and stepped out of her panties.
She could have begun crying again if she hadn’t spotted Vulgrim’s silhouette in
the hallowed-out doorway on time. Ophelia placed her tunic on the bed frame and
took a seat on the end of the bed which was nothing more than a cot made
entirely of sticks and a mattress that was overstuffed with feathers. She
quickly grabbed the blanket of some unfortunate beast’s furs to cover up.
“Face me, good girl.”
Ophelia looked at him pleadingly.
This has gone too far…
“Now slave, take that blanket off.”
Ophelia reluctantly obliged.
Please, please, I can’t do this. I can’t. It was never meant to be like this!
Ophelia began to panic.
“Hush. I’m not going to rape you. Take it off and spread your legs.”
Ophelia, beyond despair did as the demon commanded.
“Don’t fucking touch me!” She screamed as he came closer to her.
“As tempting as that sounds,” began Vulgrim “I want you to show me what you
know instead.”
“What? You can’t be serious!” Ophelia whined.
Vulgrim scowled.
“I take it that you’re not hungry anymore?”
Ophelia hushed.
She couldn’t even remember when she had last done this exact same thing.
 
The Nephilim became silent as the din of hooves sounded from across the valley,
up the boulders, and echoing amongst the trees and up to the now foggy sky. The
creatures that had been lounging in the trees scattered into various knotholes.
The only sounds in the crowded area were the squawking of a peculiar crow.
“Dust.” The gravelly voice of their brother reprimanded.
The bird took his seat on the mount of the rider. Most of the Nephilim only
glared at him, others casted their gazes down to their sabatons refusing to
meet their brother’s face. His fiery eyes remained forward. His thoughts
however, remained elsewhere. He had heard talk of their being a human still
alive. A female nonetheless. Vulgrim promptly greeted him from the entrance of
his setup.
“Welcome Horseman.” The demon purred.
The rider dismounted.
“Vulgrim. I heard talk of a human female.”
“So you did. I had a feeling you would come.”
“Well then. Bring her to me.”
“Not so fast, Death. I require a fee, naturally.”
Death grunted.
“What is it you demand this time demon?”
Vulgrim smirked.
“The heart of a Suffering.”
Death produced the thing hidden from within his tattered robes. It was still
warm, throbbing, and bloody. Vulgrim giggled and greedily took the bleeding
flesh into his claws. Death waited patiently, but not without revulsion - until
Vulgrim had finished devouring the oversized organ. His tongue snaking out to
lick the pulp off his lips.
 “Now, come with me.” The demon enticed gesturing to the makeshift tent.
Death grunted and made his way to the entrance.
“She’s very submissive. Untouched as far as I’m concerned. One of your brethren
brought her in the other morning. You should have seen her, she was terrified.
Vulgrim rattled on as he held the tent open for Death to enter. The girl had
just finished the fruit Vulgrim had provided her with. At Death’s intrusion,
she immediately began to panic. Her chest rising with every small breath as she
crawled over to the bedpost. Death reached his hand out to stroke her cheek.
Savoring the feel of her shiver underneath his cold flesh.
“W-who are you?” She integrated before grabbing the blanket and wrapping it
around her naked body.
“Stop stuttering! And get dressed. You belong to me now.” Death demanded.
Ophelia only glared at him.
“I belong to you? No, I don’t belong to anyone! I can’t be here anymore.”
Death’s eyes burned with fury. They started to scare her. With a bone crushing
grip, Death grabbed Ophelia by the wrist causing her and the blanket as well,
to fall off the bed.
“What are you doing? Let me go, fucker!” Ophelia was in hysterics.
“I have no problem breaking your wrist if that’s what you would prefer. It
would make it much easier for me.” His grip tightened causing the girl to
scream out in pain.
Ophelia finally shushed.
“No, no please don’t.”
“Good girl. Now get dressed.” Death let go with such force that she fell to the
ground.
“Please, where am I going? What are you going to do to me? I’ve lost everyone I
know.” She began to cry again.
“Stop that. Of course, I know what happened to you. Why else would you be
here?”
Ophelia looked up at him. Oblivious to the fact that her mouth was just inches
away from his growing length. Vulgrim was right. She was submissive; helpless.
She had no one. She was all alone. The only one of her group to have lived the
massacre. Death grinned as he took in her naked flesh.
“Can’t you look away please?” Ophelia whined, trying her best to cover herself.
“I am not in the favor of taking orders from a slave girl. I can look at you
however and whenever I want to. Don’t you forget that.” There was an edge to
his voice.
Ophelia gave her new master a reproachful look before slipping her panties and
tunic back on.
“What is your name?” Death asked in barely a whisper.
“Ophelia.”
“How old are you Ophelia?”
“Seventeen.”
“Still just a young one.”
Ophelia didn’t know what to say.
“Who are you?” She forced herself to meet his face.
“Death.” The name brought chills to her skin.
Death? No way…
Death made his way toward the girl who tried her best to comprehend what he had
just said. He approached her with what looked to be a collar and a leash.
“What is that for?” Ophelia panicked, beginning to back away.
“You really think I’m just going to let you walk out of here? You’re mine now
Ophelia. Every. Fucking. Bit. Of You. Is mine.”
Ophelia froze at his tone. He placed the collar around her neck. The leather
scratched her, acting more like a choker than an actual collar. He slipped the
leash in and gave it a small tug to make sure it worked. Ophelia felt
humiliated. Her cheeks burned as she casted her gaze down. Her breathe heaving
at the feel of the foreign material on her skin.
Death examined her. She looked so vulnerable, so meek.
“Tell me, are you a virgin?”
“Huh?” Ophelia had to meet his eyes to make sure she had heard him right.
“Are you deaf? I asked if you’re still a virgin. Have you ever been fucked
before?”
Ophelia bit her lip at his words.
“No. I’m a virgin.” She choked out.
“Oh good. Young and untouched.” Death turned his way to stroke her cheek once
more.
Ophelia had to force herself to will away the urge to rip off her collar and
choke him with it. Instead she refused to meet his gaze. One harsh yank was all
it took to urge her out of her fantasy.
“Come Ophelia. It is time to meet my brothers.”
“Br-brothers?” She rasped.
“Yes.”
Her legs felt so stiff as she tried to catch up to his long pace. Dust cawed a
greeting from above. Ophelia watched him encircle them twice before taking his
seat on her new master’s shoulders. With one bone crushing hand on her leash,
he stroked the bird’s greasy feathers with his other. Ophelia watched this
bizarre scene with a feeling of ice chips in her heart. The rest of the
Nephilim only stared at the duo. Some watched with lust at the sight of the
young human woman on the leash. All Ophelia felt was stomach knots and despair.
“Walk faster! You’re lagging.” Death snapped.
Ophelia readily sped her pace. Death came to a halt next to one of the
boulders.
“Why are we stopping?” Ophelia’s voice shook preparing for whatever he planned
on doing to her whether it was a smack or an attempt to rape her.
Death grunted and muttered to himself in a strange archaic language.
What language is that?
Out of nowhere, his stead appeared. Ophelia screamed as the horse’s whiny
pierced the air. His long, flowing skeletal mane billowed in the cool air.
Death approached the beast with all the coolness of an experienced trainer.
“My God.” Ophelia couldn’t help but exclaim.
“I reckon you’ve never seen a horse before?” Death taunted stroking Despair’s
muzzle.
“Not one…as unique as yours.” Ophelia chose her words carefully.
“Hmph. His name is Despair.”
Death tugged her closer. She winced at the feel of his cold skeletal fingers
grabbing her waist and propping her on his horse. Death sat behind her
carefully setting the leash in a way to avoid it from snagging.
Had he already planned this through?
Death gave a swift command to Despair who took up a steady gallop. Ophelia dug
her fingers deep into his wispy mane abhorring the feeling of Death’s now
digging nails into her flesh.
“Please, you’re hurting me!” Ophelia cried over the gallop of hoofs.
“I don’t recall a slave giving her master orders. As long as I’ve got you on
this leash you obey me. I don’t care what the situation us. You are mine now. I
tell you to undress you undress. I tell you to fuck me you fuck me. I tell you
to scream. You scream.”
His whispers sent chills through her as did the feel of his lips brushing
against her earlobe. Death’s hands crept up to her chest. Ophelia shut her eyes
as tight as she could while his cadaverous hands cupped her breasts firmly. He
squeezed them twice. Going so far as to tweak and pinch her nipples.
Stop stop You can’t do this to me this is my body you can’t stop stop stop
please
Ophelia felt hot tears course down her cheeks. Death snuggled her cheek.
Ophelia whimpered at the feel of his cold, clay skin rubbing against her
flushed wet cheek.
“They’re so ripe even for someone so young. I can’t wait to taste them. To
taste you. Don’t you know how lovely you will be Ophelia?” Death cuddled closer
to her until she felt his stringy hair against her cheek, intertwine with hers.
Ophelia trembled and sobbed until her eye makeup ran down her cheeks.
“My brothers are going to cherish you.”
Despair galloped faster.
Ophelia saw through teary eyes that they were still in the valley. Hills
glistened with little streams of water, lush grass and wild flowers blew steady
in the breeze. White butterflies fluttered past them. The sun was setting
against clouded skies; producing an orange magenta sorbet sky. However, this
tranquil scenery did not last long. It was quickly masked by a sudden fog up
ahead that was so thick she couldn’t see what was ahead. If there even was
anything ahead.
“They’re ashes.” Death said placidly as if reading her thoughts. He kept a firm
grip on her body.
“Ashes? Please Death where are we going? And what did you mean by brothers?”
She stopped herself. Afraid he would hurt her for speaking without permission.
“Yes. War, Strife, and Fury. The rest of the Horsemen. I am the eldest of the
three.”
Horsemen?
Ophelia felt dizzy. As if she were about to faint. Her heart fluttered like a
butterfly in her chest. Death felt her falter in his arms.
“Stop that. Sit up!” Death growled.
Too late. Exhausted from sleep deprivation and shock, she grew limp in his
arms. Falling into a sleepy, starless outer space. She felt as if she were in
some type of void.
Ophelia found herself hazing in and out of consciousness upon awakening in a
one-room chamber lit by only a few small candles on a candlebra. Her clothes
were forlorn, save for her panties. The air was thick with the smell of dust,
horse urine, and dung. She figured she was in a horse stable. Her wrists were
bound up by rope, causing her knees to dig deep into the piles of hay scattered
on the ground. There was a filthy cloth in her mouth pressing uncomfortably
against her tongue, prompting her to dry gag. She could only whimper in fear at
the many possibilities about what would happen next.
Just then, she heard a door open on the opposite side of the room. As the
blinding light flooded into the stable she could make out empty mangers that
had long since rusted, a couple horse saddles, and a riding crop. She could
only whimper in fear at the prospect of what that they could be used for.
Judging by the mangy tendrils of black hair, it was him. Death shut the rust-
hinged door quietly behind him and approached her with the calmness of a
horsemaster approaching his stead. She could hear his sabatons crunch in the
hay as he made his way toward her. He kneeled beside her and stared at her
scrutinizing her terrified expression and body. Ophelia turned her head away as
she felt those dirty fingernails stroke at her skin. He explored her face, her
neck, her collarbone, stopping at her breasts where he fingered her nipple.
Death brushed his thumb across her right one, only stopping once until it
became flushed and erect.
“Stop. Stop, please.” Ophelia stammered.
Death ignored her. He pinched it with both fingers, pulling and squeezing
making the girl whimper and thrash in her bounds.
“You like this, don’t you?” Death then squeezed her breast hard enough to leave
white subtle marks on her skin.
Ophelia closed her eyes, tight. Trying to will her tears away.
“N-no…” Her voice trembled.
Death stopped abruptly with a grunt. He then bowed down on one knee and looked
solemnly into her eyes. She didn’t like it one bit.
“I’m going to unbind you. Try to run from me or attack me and I’ll do a lot
more than touch you. If you obey me which is how it’s going to be from now on,
I’ll allow you a bath and maybe even your own bedroom. Are we agreed?”
Ophelia, hurting from the rope and exhausted beyond belief had no choice but to
nod in agreement.
“Good little slave girl.” Death’s words dripped with lust like a snake’s venom.
He got back to his feet. With the lithe precision of a cat, he produced a
scythe as tall as Ophelia herself.
Even in the dim light she could see the shining of the blade.
“Be still as I do this. I don’t want to cut you.” His voice became gentle. It
chilled her more than when he raised it.
Death took Ophelia into his arms after cutting the rope. He could feel her
nipples harden against his flesh from the coldness of his skin. He found this
fascinating. However, playing with his slave would have to wait until later
when he could savor it.
“Now prove to me that you can be a good girl and spread your legs for me. Then
maybe I’ll allow you to have a bath later.”
Ophelia couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Here, let me help you take those off.” Death gently pushed her down to the
hay.
Ophelia whimpered and flailed as he took hold of her panties. Her hair falling
into her eyes as the Nephilim slowly pulled them down from her legs. He
delighted himself by stroking the inside of her inner thighs, commenting on how
she had pretty skin. Ophelia, craving sleep only mewled in reluctance.
Unknowing to her, this only fueled Death’s desires. He could feel his pants
becoming painfully tight. Still, he had to wait to undo her fully.
“Good girl.” Death purred.
Ophelia whimpered as she felt his grimy fingers crawl up her spread thighs. He
caressed her sex like he caressed her cheek. He smiled as he felt her shiver
under his touch. His jagged nail grinded against her hidden bundle of nerves.
Ophelia thrashed around in her chains wanting, praying to be free of this
monster that was molesting her. Death poked and prodded at it until finally it
became hard and engorged. Death could smell her now. Ophelia snapped. She
cursed at him, screamed as he dove his fingers past her labia and into her
tight cunt.
“Fuck! No! They’re too big! You’re hurting me!”
Ophelia pleaded, twisted, and mewled in pain, disgust, and pure fear. Death
ignored her, enjoying the feel of her tight insides hugging his intruding
fingers. His thumb swirled around her clitoris, stirring a combination of
pleasure and pain. He continued assaulting her bundle of nerves for a couple
more minutes until focusing his attention on her anus. He stuck the tip of his
finger into her tight vestibule and swirled it around her clamping insides. He
shoved his fingers deeper inside her pink flesh prompting more curses.
“Curse all you want to girl. See where it gets you.” Death spat.
Oh no….No!
Death pushed his fingers deeper, deeper. Masturbation was supposed to be about
self-indulgence not power or pain or control. All she felt now was repulsion.
“I was going to wait until they saw you.” Death said pulling out of her too
fast causing Ophelia to feel nauseous. “But you are being so fucking adorable
right now.” Death began undoing his robes.
Oh no no no no No! I’m not ready!
“Please Death. Don’t do this! Please I can’t! I can’t! It was never supposed to
be like this!”
Ophelia’s head pounded from her tears.
Death turned to her midway unto undoing his robes. Ophelia was met with his
very knotted prick. It was roughly the same color as his skin. Save for the
head which was a dark purple. Ophelia couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“Suck it my little slave.”
Ophelia had no words.
“I said suck it!” Before a reaction could even slip across her mind, he grasped
her head and shoved her face up to his cock.
Ophelia had no choice but to take the thing into her mouth. She took as much as
she could before gagging as it hit the back of her throat. It was freezing
cold. She could feel the purple veins touch her sensitive flesh.
Oh God what if he gets me sick?
“Use your tongue pretty slave.” Death’s nails dug into her head.
Ophelia forced herself to taste it. Her tongue was inexperienced as she tried
licking it up and down only to be scolded by Death to really taste it; wrap her
lips around his shaft and suck. Ophelia finally did so. Sucking long and hard,
prompting Death to finally yank her from his being.
“What in the name of the abyss are you doing?” He growled.
“I’ve-I’ve never done this before. Please I’m new to it.” Ophelia sobbed.
Death grunted. Ophelia braced herself, expecting to be struck. Instead, he
chuckled and gave her brush on the cheek with his thumb.
“Open your mouth wide and take as much of me as you can inside it.” Death
commanded, softly.
Ophelia did as she was told. She tried her best to disregard the unnatural
coolness of his flesh.
“Now suck.”
Ophelia felt her eyes sting with tears as her tongue touched his icy skin. She
sucked it hard. Once, twice...
“I want to feel more of your tongue.”
Ophelia pleadingly looked into her master’s eyes as she did so.
Oh god eww..it’s so cold.
It didn’t take long for Death to release. His trembling and throaty moans gave
her insight. Suddenly, she felt his fingers twisting her hair and shuddered at
the inhuman chill of his seed spilling inside her mouth.
“Swallow it. Don’t you even dare spit any out.”
Ophelia gulped as much of it as she could. She abhorred his earthy taste, the
cold thick texture. Her stomach became knotted. Finally, Death pulled her away
trailing her saliva from the base of his half-mast appendage. She only stared
up at him, her eyes hazy.
“You’ll learn.” Death cuddled her cheek with his knuckle, trying to catch his
breath. Still her eyes remained fixed on his cock.
“I’ll take you to clean up. Then you will meet my siblings.”
Death began dressing leaving Ophelia draw her knees up to her chest. His taste
still coated her tongue. She felt a stray drop run down her lip. Impulsively,
she wiped it off. The horror in her eyes slowly churning to disgust as she saw
that it was a light purple.
Oh God I just swallowed that.
Ophelia covered her mouth trying her best to hold back her vomit.
Death walked over to a vintage trunk one might see on say a pirate ship. He
pulled out an animal skinned blanket and crossed over to Ophelia.
“Here. Wear this until we get to the castle.” He said half-heartedly.
Castle?
Ophelia shivered (had it suddenly dropped temperature?) and took the blanket
without much reluctance. Death gently guided her out of the horse stable and
into the charred grounds. Her bare feet digging into the sinking earth. The air
was cool against her skin. Despair rolled around in the ashes in attempts to
amuse himself while waiting for his master. With a curt whistle, Despair got
back to his hooves and trotted at the ground impatiently as if saying “about
time”.
“Put this on.” Death coerced, holding the dreaded collar out to Ophelia.
Ophelia took the awful thing with the readiness of a Stepford wife. Death
produced the leash out from Despair’s saddle. He could feel himself once more
become hard as he heard her mewl at the tightening of the fabric.
The ride only took a couple of minutes. Yet to Ophelia, it felt endless. All
she could sense was sleep deprivation. Her sleep pattern had been disrupted
ever since her and her mother arrived at the high school shelter. No matter
what time it was, there would always be a baby crying, a child needing to use
the restroom, nightmares, sobbing, the guttural groans of the mouth-breather’s
who roamed the streets, a beast’s screech…Ophelia was much too frightened to
leave her mother’s side. It was her, her mother, and a couple of her good
friends and of course, all their families who slept side by side in their
sleeping cots together. All she had left. She was terrified of the thought of
being separated from them after all they had been through. When it was
completely silent which was exceptionally rare as there was nearly always
someone awake or the sound of the Sky Terrors as some of the committee would
call them, screeching their awful cry. Ophelia’s mother would hold her and sing
to her some of her favorite lullabies as a little girl.
Now, that was all just a memory.
“We’ve arrived.” Death’s voice stirred her from her reminiscing.
Ophelia couldn’t believe what she was staring at. It was as if she had stepped
into a fairytale book. The piles and rain of ash had ceased. Now the sky was as
pink and orange as a sorbet. With clouds that took on the hue of the setting
sky. The sun was just setting. Surrounded by vibrant redwood trees was a castle
at least seven stories high complete with towers and stained-glass windows.
Moss and kudu enshrouded the brick exterior. Vegetation had completely
overtaken this side of wherever they were. Ophelia couldn’t spot a speck of ash
anywhere. She was taken aback to say the least. Despair came to a halt before
the large wooden doors.
“It’s beautiful.” Ophelia’s words came out as a whisper.
“This is all we have left of our home. Mine has long since demolished ever
since my brethren were revived.”
“I’m sorry.”
Do you actually here yourself right now? Suck up.
“Don’t. You’ve done no wrong.”
Death climbed off Despair’s back and held his arms out.
 “Jump.”
Ophelia did so gasping as he caught her. For a second, she was pressed against
his cadaverous flesh. She could feel her nipples react to his freezing skin
even through the heavy blanket. Their hearts beat in unison. Her quim became
wet and warm. Death could smell her arousal. It made him hard and stiff.
Gently, Death placed her down.
“Come. I’ll take you to the bath.”
Death lead her through the foyer which was dimly lit by a large glass
chandelier that hung from a stained-glass ceiling overlooking cobblestone
walls, two grand staircases and a primitive stone floor. Ophelia’s bare feet
pattered alongside Death’s sabatons.
“You’ll be sharing a room with me. How am I to know you won’t try to find some
sharp object and try to stab me in my sleep. Or try to harm yourself. Even if
that is the case, I can resurrect you Ophelia. No. I’m sure you wouldn’t want
that.”
At the word “resurrect” Ophelia’s face grew pale.
“I have my ways, little one.” Death confided.
Once in the hallway, Ophelia tried to turn her attention to the tapestry to the
right of her. Stitched in was griffon standing proudly with its paw arched out.
In front of it was a human man dressed in a cloak who looked like he was either
trying to make amends with the beast or pacify it. Surrounding this scene were
bizarre looking plants and flowers. To the opposite were three windows which
overlooked the ashlands. Perhaps she was seeing things, but it looked as if
there was something stalking in the distance.
“Are there any bears or wolves here?” Ophelia asked with an edge to her voice.
“Not any of that sort. There are creatures, but you need not to worry about
them.”
Ophelia kept looking ahead. Death told her that their bedchamber was four more
floors up. Ascending all the stairs, the twists, turns, spirals, and windows
overlooking the treetops made Ophelia feel dizzy and sick. She despised height
ever since she went on her first roller coaster when she was ten. She hadn’t
been ready even though she was just as excited as her friends were. She
remembered afterwards crying and feeling goosebumps all over. It certainly
wasn’t a happy thought. One she tried to push out of her head, yet the
experience was exactly just like this.
 
“This is where we’ll be sleeping.”
We? I’m gonna have to share a bed with this monster?
She had been much too absorbed in her own musings that she had forgotten
entirely about what Death had said about sharing a room. The bedchamber could
have easily held another bedroom. With tapestries in between two stained glass
windows, a wardrobe dresser, a vanity mirror and a window seat overlooking the
ashlands, and trees from below. From ahead, Ophelia could spot various
different realms. Death closed the door behind him. She heard it lock into
place. She knew firsthand that this was a bad sign.
“Take that thing off. I’ll pick out your clothes for you when you’re finished
bathing. Or you can if you be a good girl.”
“Okay.” Ophelia dropped the blanket to her feet.
Out of her peripheral vision she could see all the dirt, scratches and scrapes
that laid claim of her body in the mirror. Death lead her to the bathroom which
was the door next to the bed. Ophelia had never seen one as luxurious as this.
The bath was marbled with steps leading up. Directly above was a window looking
up to the sky. Ophelia could only look at Death skeptically. Here was this
frightening non-human living in such a pristine palace.
“When we first came here.” Death said turning off the water.
“The whole place was enshrouded with corpses. Naturally I took care of them.
The rest of my brethren laid claim to half of the castle while I reside on this
half. They know better than to bother me now. My…mother resides her as well.
She remains far enough from us. You’re not allowed to visit her at any cost.”
He said all this as if he was giving her free reign of the whole castle. And
what could he possibly mean by mother?
Death has a mother? Who is she? Pets? Mother? Well of course. Everyone has a
mother.
“Nor Absalom. You will not visit any of my brethren without my presence. When
you’re with me. You do as I say.”
“Y-y-yes Death.”
Out of the mosquito buzz of questions concerning the law he had just laid down,
one managed to blurt out before any of the other could so much as reach her
tongue.
“What did the people die of?”
Death shrugged
“Disease, age…They were here when we found them. You don’t have to worry about
the mess. I tended to that. Here. Your bath is ready. Step in.”
Ophelia allowed Death to drop the blanket to her feet. The water was at a
perfect temperature. She was about to get herself comfortable when she heard
Death undressing. The warmth and embrace slowly waning as Death stepped in
behind her. His chest pressed against her back. Death reached for a bar of soap
opposite of Ophelia. He moved her long hair out of the way and gently began to
wash her back using a pink sponge.
“Death, please. Why did you choose me?” Ophelia couldn’t help but ask.
“Why? Ophelia don’t you understand how perfect you are? You’re submissive,
young, fuckable, and smarter than you think. You have a delicate face, nice
curves, charming eyes, a divine ass. You are a perfect slave.”
At that moment, Death’s hands crept up to her breasts.
“They’re already ripe.” Death commented lewdly, giving her twins a squeeze. She
mewled in fear and turned her head.
Please don’t let him take my virginity. Not now! I’m not ready. It wasn’t
supposed to be this way!
Death continued molesting her breasts before creeping down to her thighs.
“Spread them.” He ordered.
The water added extra stimuli as Death’s fingers slid right inside her tight
hole. Ophelia hated to admit that she enjoyed the feeling. Something beyond
what she had every felt before. Death’s fingers spread, swirled, and wormed
themselves inside her like a knot of snakes. They were like two gaunt serpents
inside her virgin entrance. She tried her best to resist her climax. Alas the
dead giveaway fell asunder when her hips bucked and her whole lower body
flailed splashing water over the tub. She bit her lower lip as her orgasm
ceased. Her heart beating like a pocket watch.
“That’s enough of that my slave.” Death spoke softly licking her earlobe.
Ophelia shook in fear.
Death silently began washing her hair. Scrubbing softly, his nails going to
work on running the soap through her long, wet strands. Once he was finished,
he handed Ophelia a surprisingly modern looking razor.
“Try anything and I’ll do it for you,”
Ophelia nodded. She longed to get out of the tub. For the water had already
grown cold and she was beginning to feel sick again. Ophelia stood up much to
the excitement of Death and commenced shaving using the soap. She stopped once
she reached her mons pubis. It had been awhile since she had shaven. Showers
were only fifteen minutes long back at the shelter.
“All of it.” Death said curtly.
Ophelia proceeded slowly so as she wouldn’t cut herself. Once she was done,
Death pulled her out and drained the tub. Afterwards, he took her over to the
fogged full body mirror on the opposite of the bathroom and made her examine
herself. The hair on her body had been all but removed. As she did so, Death
wrapped his muscular arm around her waist causing her breasts to bounce and
overlap. Rivulets of water ran down from her wet hair and to her breasts. Death
watched a lone drop of water lay claim over her nipple. He began caressing the
junction of her thighs. Ophelia leaned into his chilling body as he felt her
bare skin. Her ass resting deliciously against his waist. Calloused touches
sent waves of fear to wash over her. Death parted her soft folds then rested
his thumb on the hood of her clitoris.
“Do you enjoy when I do this?” He teased running his thumb over it, slowly.
“N-no.” She confessed watching herself in the mirror. Her flower in full view.
“I have a feeling you’re lying to me, slave girl.”
To test her, Death crept his finger inside her warm, wet entrance. He could
feel her pink flesh squeeze his fingers. Ophelia whimpered little cries of
reluctance. Death’s appendage hardened, almost to the point of becoming
painful. Two arches of his fingers were enough to send her to tears. His
fingers dripping with her sex juice. Death guided them to her, allowing her to
smell her own musk. Ophelia produced a noise which sounded to him like a moan
and a purr. Death smiled. He left her to fetch a robe from the other room. He
produced a cream colored one that was much too short for her and draped it
around her wet , hot body. The material was silk rubbing gently in between her
petals and skin. She enjoyed the comfort. Her face blushing both from the
kindness and the after effects of the bath.
“You’re blushing, child.” Death said.
Ophelia could hear the smile in his voice even without having to look up.
Ophelia looked up at him, noting his strong sunken neck. His strong jawline,
his chest, his ribcage. Ophelia’s pussy pulsed as she felt his cock rest
against her buttocks. That was enough to stir her out of her daydream.
Death chuckled. His throaty voice sending chills to her flesh.
“I’ll take you to bed. You need your strength for later. I’ll have the servants
fetch you something to eat. Would you like that?”
Ophelia nodded. It had been awhile since she had last eaten anything.
“Yes please.” She replied timidly.
Death carried her like a little child to the bedroom. She held on to him
sleepily resting her head on his shoulders. Death tucked her in and stroked her
cheek stopping to finger her lips. Her hair was still wet with water. Some
dripped on her skin. Death wiped it off with his thumb. Soon Ophelia was
asleep. Death sat by her bed watching her.
Ophelia awoke cocooned in the embrace of the floral duvet. She couldn’t
remember the last time she had slept in her own bed. She felt like a princess
despite her unfortunate circumstances. Ophelia groaned and nestled in deeper
than before fearing the threat of what was to come should, she step out of the
womb of the blankets. Suddenly, she felt a shadow draw over her.
“Ophelia.”
Death took a strand of hair in between his fingers.
Ophelia refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she buried her face deep within the
covers.
“Ophelia, I know you’re awake. You don’t need to hide from me. You haven’t done
a thing wrong. Wake up. I have something for you to eat.”
Ophelia slowly pulled the covers off her dreading the absence of that warmth
and security and crawled out of bed. She stopped to glance at herself in the
vanity mirror across from the bed. Thankfully, he dark circles of exhaustion
had all faded. Death sat her down on the armchair next to the window and
presented a tray in front of her with a bowl of soup with some strange herb in
it, homemade bread, and a small cup filled with tea. Next to the plate of bread
was a small teapot. Death took a seat on the chair across from her.
“The servants brought this in while you slept. It’s nearly midafternoon. It’s
alright if you sleep past morning. You may do so for only a couple more days.
After that I’ll start you with work.”
Ophelia watched as Death scooped up the herb. She had slept surprisingly well,
yet something deep inside her urged to climb back into the bed.
“Eat.”
She stared at it skeptically. Fearing that it might be some sort of drug.
“It’s not lethal. You have to keep your strength up.”
Her eyes went to his other hand which lay perched atop the table counter like a
tarantula ready to pounce. Ophelia took the strange morsel into her mouth and
began chewing slowly. It tasted earthy, but not bitter. She tried to wash the
odd taste from her mouth with the herbal tea. Death scooped up more soup. Some
ran down her chin which he flicked off with his thumb. Death noticed her robe
top was opened. Exposing her cleavage ready to spill over the silk.
Death didn’t care whether her mouth was full of soup or not. He leaned in
staring momentarily into her curious eyes and kissed her hard. The soup
spilling out of her mouth and dripping down her chin. She cried with fear and
reluctance. She tried pulling away. His arms caught her just in time. His
tongue explored hers before tickling the roof of her mouth. His other hand went
to her breast which spilled over the top. He pinched her soft nipple until it
became long and hard and rolled it between his rough fingers.
“N-no…” Ophelia choked out as he gave her one last kiss.
He kissed his way down to her neck. He kissed her collar bone, the freckles
underneath, the valley of her breasts. Teasing her until he reached her nipple.
He gave it one gentle kiss before swirling his cool tongue around it. Ophelia
arched at the stimuli.
“Death!” She gasped. Hot tears coursed down her face.
Death licked, sucked, and bit at her delicate nipple. His other hand squeezing
tightly around her small waist. Death smiled at her reluctant cries as he
tasted her sensitive flesh. He gave her nipple one last taste before pulling
away to look at her. He took in the confused fear in her eyes. Her heavy
breathes of fright, the way her eyes stared into his pleadingly, the beauty of
her tears, her face flushed from his doing.
“Death?” Ophelia’s voice trembled. She tried to fix her robe.
“Don’t touch it!” Death growled.
Ophelia shook in her chair. She could only stare at this creature. Stare at the
horrid expression on his face. The rage in his eyes. The want. The desire. She
could jump from the window. Or better yet push him out of it. No. Between her
and him, it was obvious who would win. And the fear alone of him reanimating
her corpse was enough. She remained on the seat leaning into it as if he could
pounce any minute.
“I apologize,” the Nephilim began after taking his seat. “If I scared you. I
don’t like hurting you Ophelia.”
What? Then why are you doing this to me? Why are you scaring me, attacking me,
molesting me? What is the gain you seek from doing all this? Ophelia wanted to
demand.
“I hate you.” Ophelia said on impulse. She refused to meet his eyes.
Death chuckled and sat back in his chair.
“So you’ve said. It is not the first time I’ve heard it before.”
Death chuckled. His acceptance only fueled her distaste. Still, Ophelia was
glad she had said it.
“Are you done pouting now?”
Ophelia looked away. Tears plastered to her cheeks.
“Good. I want you to go and wash up. I’ll lay out some clothes for you once
you’re done. Then acquaintances will be made.”
 
Ophelia found a stockpile of makeup, perfume, a hairbrush, and even a
toothbrush and a vile of what she believed was toothpaste all in the bathroom
closet.
As she brushed her hair, she tried hard to imagine what Death’s siblings could
look like. Were they just as cold and sadistic as himself? Were they as savage
as the ones back at the market? And the most disturbing thought of them all,
why were they so keen on visiting her? Ophelia did her best at trying to hide
her fear. But still, the unwavering questions hung over her and ceased to leave
her mind. Her stomach was in knots as she imagined various scenarios regarding
their visit.
If he’s talking about the future. With me. With…us. Chances are he’s not
planning on letting any harm come my way. But then again, he hurts me and then
plays it off like it never happened. Oh God I am scared.
Ophelia briefly chased away her fear through brushing her teeth free from any
traces of Death’s taste. She couldn’t believe she had gone to sleep with that
odd texture in her mouth. It made her shiver.
Ophelia studied herself in the mirror. She had washed her face and applied a
liberal amount of makeup. Back to the Egyptian goddess look, she thought
wearily. It was like a whole beauty salon in the closet. She didn’t even want
to begin to think where they got all the stuff from after hearing that Vulgrim
got his merchandise off corpses. The finishing touch was the perfume. She
applied it to every inch of her body including her mons pubis. It was pretty
smelling which was comforting at least. Still, she felt so unlike herself.
School days for her usually consisted of waking up, showering, and applying
eyeliner no more no less. Then throw on a graphic tee and usually skinny jeans.
Now you are a slave, not a school girl anymore.
Ophelia sadly turned away from the mirror. It was time to go. Silently, she
said a farewell to her old life before taking her leave and heading into the
bedroom where Death was waiting for her.
***** Downpour *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia meets Death's siblings.
Death grumbled a silent "thank you" to the young servant girl who nervously set
the clothing on the bed and hurried out of the bedroom. He gazed out the window
pensively. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened. The girl stood in the doorway
twirling a strand of red hair between her fingers. Death sensed her fear and
chuckled lightly.
"The servant has set out clothing for you. Dress slowly and face me."
Ophelia hurried over to the bed. Sure enough, the clothing consisted of a white
bodice laced corset. It could have been classy, save for the equally white
thong.
"Leave them off." Death demanded.
Ophelia-cheeks burning-reached for the corset.
Death took in her small frame with his fiery eyes. He cherished her divine
Venus contour, her freckled body, her delicate toes, her long legs, the way her
breasts bounced deliciously as she laced the corset over them.
"Come here." Death spoke so softly she could barely hear him.
Ophelia approached him with the reluctance of approaching a poisonous spider.
Death stroked her cheek, his fingers trailed to her lips. Her whole body began
to shake in terror.
"Suck on them, little slave."
Ophelia opened her mouth, her eyes staring distrustfully into his.
She sucked on two of his fingers. They tasted of the earth. Death enjoyed the
feel of her warm tongue on his cold flesh. He pulled them away following a
translucent strand of saliva to drop from his fingers.
"Death!" Ophelia cried out as she felt his arm wrap around her midsection
causing her breasts to heave under his touch.
Ophelia gasped, moaned, and twisted as she felt him explore her slick orifice.
Once he was finished, he slowly pulled out of her with a whimpering moan and
examined the wetness running down his fingers.
"Do you like when I do this, Ophelia?"
Ophelia shook her head.
Death grunted.
He finally released his hold on her. His strength alone sent her falling to the
floor. With one swift hand, Death grabbed her by the arm and forced her on the
bed.
"Death don't! Please Death, no!"
Ophelia tried her best to crawl away, but the horseman's grip was too strong
and her limbs were fragile. He forced Ophelia face down into the duvet with her
ass arched up in the air and her hands bound together by Death's large hand.
She began to scream as she felt him throw a flurry upon flurry of slaps to her
buttocks with his free hand.
"You've been such a bad girl, Ophelia. You must be punished. Say you've been
bad."
Ophelia in hysterics-complied.
"Say it!" Death's cold grip tightened on her wrist.
"I'm sorry! I've been bad! Just please stop hurting me!
With that, Death ceased. Ophelia crawled away and clung to the bedpost. She
glared at Death with hatred in her eyes.
"Now look what you've done. Your eyes are a mess. Go clean up. Hurry now."
Ophelia didn't take her leave without giving Death another brutal scowl first.
Ophelia sat restlessly in the window seat awaiting for the arrival of Death and
his siblings. They were in the castle's kitchen helping themselves to meat the
servants had prepared. Ophelia stared out the window and wondered what his
siblings looked like. All the while she thought the sleepier she became.
Suddenly, the door swung wide open. Ophelia whipped her head to the other side
of the room and was met by an armored Nephilm with dark slicked back hair, skin
as dark as caramel and eyes as bright as fire embers. He was in the midst of
laughing-a cackle more like, but when he saw Ophelia he immediately ceased and
gave her the most sinister grin exposing his sharp ivory teeth.
The Nephilim next to him was about the same size, maybe a little shorter. He
wore a red cloak or at least what was left of a cloak. Behind him it hung in
battered tatters. His left arm was adorned by something that looked to be a
primitive gauntlet. It was made entirely of stone. Ophelia was curious to know
how he got it, but at the same time she was terrified to know. His appearance
would have almost been angelic. With his long hair, pure as the moon itself,
face as perfectly shaped as a cherub from an old renaissance painting, a
marking on his forehead that seemed to glow just as bright as his hair, and
eyes lively and glowing with anticipation. Ophelia could feel his eyes explore
her body. Searching every curve as if he was raping her with his eyes. She
could almost feel those milky eyes pierce her maidenhood, slip inside her and
steal every bit of innocence left within in her. Every trace of potential hope
and safety she saw in him were lost.
The last Nephilm to enter the room was a sight for sore eyes. Her magenta hair
billowed around like a mermaid. Her catlike eyes were as bright as her younger
brother's, her skin flawless, her legs long and limber, her curves subtle and
well pronounced as was her jawline and tight burgundy lips. Around her eyes and
forehead were black markings like the carving on Death's shoulder. She was
wearing what looked to be a purple robe made of cloth and lace. It fit her
shape perfectly; although it did little to prevent her generous breasts from
bouncing slightly as she made her entrance. Her high heeled metal boots
clicking absently along the floor. She regarded Ophelia with a scrutinizing
once over.
"Allow me to introduce my brother Strife, my sister Fury and my youngest
brother, War." Death announced gesturing to each as he spoke.
"So, this is the girl huh Death." Strife spoke first. He approached her slowly,
his grin becoming wider.
Ophelia's heart beat began to increase.
"She's so young. So scared. So alone."
"Patience Strife," Death said sternly. "War goes first. You'll have your way
with her very soon."
Strife grunted and whispered into his brother's ear.
"Better make it slow, War. I'd love to see her scream."
With that, Strife strode away and piled himself into the armchair. His sister
followed suite and sat in the one across from him.
"Yes War. Show us what our little brother is fully capable of." Fury giggled.
Ophelia could only stare helplessly at the horseman. War approached her without
hesitation. She was terrified. Without thinking she backed up against the
pillows on the window seat.
"Young One. Come to me."
His voice! So deep, so…for lack of better words fitting.
Ophelia had no choice but to oblige.
Strife watched her with amusement. Fury drummed her long nails on the armrest
taking in the sight of the frightened girl.
Ophelia walked over to War with trembling steps. Her bare feet plodding
silently on the cool stone-tiled floor.
"Look at my brothers when they speak!" Death growled from across the room.
Ophelia fought back tears as best as she could and instead focused her
attention on War.
"Well, tell him your name." Death commanded.
"Ophelia." Ophelia replied meekly.
"Ophelia." War repeated suggestively.
He knelt down to her own height and took a couple strands of hair within his
fingers. He held them up to his nose and sniffed.
Ophelia shivered within his presence.
"War. Take her on the bed."
With one arm, War quite literally lifted her off the floor and threw her onto
the bed prompting a cackle from Strife and a giggle from Fury. Ophelia looked
to Death with fear and confusion. Death smiled faintly and leaned against the
bedroom door. Possibly in case she planned to make a break for it. War took her
in with his luminescent eyes. He studied the heaving of her breasts, the mess
of red curls around her, her parting lips, her thin stomach... He moved in on
her, his lips softly touching her forehead, then her flushed cheeks, finally to
her lips. He kissed her hard and passionate. His lips were strangely soft. It
wasn't long before his tongue found hers. She moaned as she tasted him. His
taste was of smoke and some kind of alcoholic beverage. As he kissed her, he
began moving on top of her. Ophelia finally managed to breathe as he got up
from the bed to undo his pants.
Ophelia-still suffering the aftershock of his kiss began to struggle.
"No, no please. Please War I can't do this! I'm not ready, please!"
War ignored her protests and managed to get them off. Ophelia's eyes widened in
shock as she took in the site of his length. For his "little brother" it was
fair to say that War nearly outdid Death. War taunted Ophelia as he pried off
his robe.
"You think I'm just going to fuck you and be done? I want to enjoy this. Get on
your knees and put that coquettish mouth of yours to use. Show me what you can
do, Ophelia."
Ophelia swallowed hard. She was trapped. Defeated, she slid off the bed and
slowly approached War. Her knees shaking visibly. She fell to her knees and
faced War's massive length.
"Touch it." War demanded.
Ophelia reluctantly did so. Using two hands because of his size. One touch was
all it took for it to become longer, more pronounced and erect. Ophelia felt
every vein. Stroking it up and down careful not to let any of his semen touch
her skin. For one thing, it was warm. Just so, so, big.
As she massaged and explored it, War moaned louder and louder. His large hand
crept up to play with her hair; only to twist it painfully. She tried to ignore
the stress to her scalp, only expressing it through the tears in her eyes.
Finally, War could take no more. He shoved Ophelia's head up to his cock giving
her no choice but to take it into her mouth. One little protest escaped her
lips before she took in a mouthful. She was forced to suck him much to the
delight of Death and his siblings. Ophelia gagged twice as she felt his manhood
touch the back of her throat. She looked up at War with her tear-filled eyes
hoping that maybe he would stop and take pity on her. 
Alas, he ignored her feeble effort and her tears only aroused him further.
Three more sucks were all it took for War to cum. Ophelia took this as her cue
to release him from her mouth only to be struck in the face by his hot seed.
Ophelia cried out in shock and humiliation as her face was coated in his mess.
Strife began to laugh incessantly.
"Never knew you had it in you, little brother!" He piped.
Ophelia looked to Death.
"Ophelia, go clean yourself up. Now!" He barked as if it were her own fault.
Ophelia-cheeks burning red-got up and ran to the bathroom sobbing.
Ophelia took a long sad look in the mirror at her marred complexion before
fulling wiping the Nephilim seed completely off with a wet washcloth.
"Please, I'm sorry it happened! No don't do this to me, Death!"
Ophelia kicked, screamed, and sobbed as Death bound her hands to the bedpost.
The cold metal bars pressed against her skin painfully as she tried to twist
away.
"You were to suck him exactly how you did to me. You are not allowed to treat
them in any way differently from me. You are my slave. I own you. Do you
understand me or do I have to spank you again?"
"I- I understand."
"Good girl." Death whispered tickling her cheek with his fingers. Ophelia
wanted nothing more than to spit at him, although she knew it would do no good.
Once Death pulled away, it was War's turn to finish what he had started.
War crawled on the bed and positioned his legs on both sides of her. He had
some difficulty ripping her panties off with his prosthetic until Death offered
to do it for him. Once that was over, War traced his calloused finger up to her
mons pubis.
"Such pure skin." War commented softly.
He teased her by never coming in contact with her pink wet flesh. Instead, his
fingers explored her corset bust where he slowly undid the bindings. Once free,
her breasts bounced without restriction much to the Horseman's delight. Ophelia
shook and whined as War leaned over and gently took her nipple into his lips.
Ophelia could feel his manhood at her thigh as he did so. He sucked on her
right breast with lithe precision. It felt good considering how gentle he was
being on par to Death and how this was the first willing act upon her. But the
bad came in a form of a scary thought. Would Death be upset if he found out
that she was enjoying what War was doing to her?
War sucked her breast a couple more times before giving her nipple a subtle
kiss. He then moved his lips up to her earlobe, his soft skin brushing against
it sending little shockwaves of excitement throughout Ophelia's body.
"I can smell the lust on you, Young One. You like what I'm doing don't you? I
reckon Death doesn't treat you this way."
Ophelia bit her lip, unable to answer. 
War took a hold of Ophelia's small waist. Ophelia froze and stared into his
eyes, trying her best not to break. A wane smile crawled across War's face as
he slipped inside her hot, wet cunt.
"War!" Ophelia called out. She couldn't help it.
The Horseman had filled her up to the hilt. He was now deep inside her. Ophelia
struggled in her bounds, pleading for him to stop. He was so far in. She didn't
even know it was possible to touch where he was touching. Still, he kept his
firm hold on her waist. War rocked his hips, moaning as he did so. She felt
amazing. Like the virgin she was, her tight flesh clamped down on his
protruding phallus. He could smell her sex as he thrusted in and out of her.
His buttocks ramming along with his timed movement.
Strife took in this site with fascination. Fury remained silent, chewing on her
fingernail. Death watched his baby brother and Ophelia for that matter,
intently. Trying to distinguish the looks on both of their faces. To see if
they were enjoying each other's flesh a little too much. Death was beginning to
grow tired of waiting for his turn. His manhood becoming painfully tight even
under the many robes.
Patience. Patience is the key of life. Death mused to himself.
As War pierced that sacred place deep inside her, Ophelia's eyes scanned his
determined face. She saw scars, the rune marking on his forehead. The face of a
warrior more so than an angel. Yet there was something very angelic about his
features that made Ophelia think otherwise. Ophelia could feel that place
inside her rive. Unable to take it anymore, she screamed as War released his
hot seed inside her. Her maidenhood broken. Her sanity shattered along with it.
She was now a harlot. Death's harlot who replenished herself on fucking.
Fucking was now her source of life from the Nephilim men.
Her role as the slave of Death was to obey, and obey she must.
War collapsed momentarily on her breasts which served to him as pillows. He was
still connected with her. She could feel some of his seed spill out of her and
onto her thighs. It made her all the more want to push him off. Slowly, War
pulled out of her. Traces of his seed spurting on her thighs. Sweat plastered
his face, back, and chest. His siblings stared at him without a word. War
grabbed his clothes from the floor and began dressing. Strife and Fury looked
at each other in shock. Fury tried to suppress a giggle.
"Well brother. I guess you're up next." Fury teased.
"Hell yes I am!"
Strife stood to his feet, proudly. Ophelia -flushed and dazed-tried her best
not to make eye contact with the Nephilim. After watching her be defiled by his
baby brother, it was too awkward let alone risky if she so much as stared into
his eyes or anywhere on his body for that matter. Yet when he undressed, when
the armor was forlorn it was nearly impossible. His body-like the rest of his
brothers-was just as strong, fit, and agile. Ribs nestled with equally strong
abs among a dark toned body. From the other side of the room sitting on his
haunches, was Death fully aware of Ophelia's focus on his brother. He narrowed
his eyes. Just as he hoped Ophelia caught his attention, causing her to
immediately drop her gaze. Her cheeks burned in apprehension.
"Looks like War really took his time with you, little girl." Strife grinned,
eyeing her pink, soft flesh.
Ophelia could feel War's still warm seed inside her. Coating her thighs and
resting in her belly. It made her feel even more like a wench. Strife propped
his legs on either side of her. Ophelia began crying as she felt him take a
handful of her hair. He enjoyed her tears. He kissed her. His tongue touching
hers. His erection resting on her stomach. He continued to kiss her for quite
some time. Tasting her, teasing her. His hand slipped from her hair and down to
her breast where he squeezed it firmly, taking her nipple between two fingers.
He pinched and squeezed it until she thrashed in her bounds.
"That's enough of that, multum reginae." Strife finally said. "I want to feel
just how tight this little princess is."
Before giving her any warning, Strife slipped inside her using his younger
brothers cum to guide him. Ophelia cried and begged for him to stop yet it only
fueled his sinful need even more. Strife thrusted as far as he could go inside
her. All it took was just a couple more before releasing.
"You have no idea how lovely your cunt feels right now."Strife whispered
licking her earlobe, making her shiver.
As he fucked her for second time, he took a whole handful of her hair and gave
it a twist.
"Mmm, no! Strife please no!"
"Strife! Stop that at once!" Death roared at his brother.
Suddenly, War ripped Strife right off poor Ophelia who didn't even have enough
time to register. Death was a blur to her. She quickly crossed her legs with
Strife's seed still fresh inside her. Ophelia tried to catch her breath and
looked to Death for help.
"I will not allow you to cause any harm to Ophelia. She is my treasure. I only
allowed you to have her as a special treat. Harm her and you're in for it,
brother."
Any other comment Death or Strife may have had was all lost to Ophelia. For at
that moment her eyes grew heavy as did her breathes, and soon she had fainted.
***** Jealousy *****
Chapter Summary
     Death finds out what's on Fury's mind.
Ophelia awoke with her hands unbound and tucked into the covers of her and
Death’s bed. Death was softly snoring next to her with his back facing her. The
light streaming into the beautifully painted windows told her that it was a new
day. She threw back the covers and did a once over of herself. Death must have
cleaned her off. For her whole body was immaculate. She was clothed in a
burgundy silk robe and smelled of pretty soap instead of Nephilim sweat, seed,
and saliva. She tried to move, yet the pain between her legs was unbearable.
Strife. Strife caused me to faint. Oh God… They all took me. All except Death.
She felt filthy. Nothing but a whore. Confused beyond belief, she began to cry.
She didn’t care if Death heard her or not. He had hurt her enough already.
“Ophelia?”
Ophelia stopped sobbing and turned to face a bleary Death. He sat up in the bed
letting the blankets slide down to his belly button.
“Ophelia. Come here.” “Why? So you can rape me just like your brothers did?”
Ophelia brought the covers up to her breasts.
She fixed Death with such an icy stare that he couldn’t help but chuckle a
little. Even though his gaze scared her, she couldn’t let herself wane.
“Ophelia. Now that my brothers have had a taste of your pure flesh. It is my
turn now. We already went over this. Come to me now.”
“No.”
Ophelia felt the tears returning. Still, she didn’t waver.
“No, Death.”
Death pounced at her. He threw the covers off her and began to tear at the bust
of her robe. Ophelia kicked, screamed, and cursed.
“Death no! No please! No! I still hurt…”
“I’ll make you hurt a lot more if you don’t obey me!” Death struck her across
the cheek.
Once her breasts were in plain view, Death lowered his head and took her nipple
into his mouth. Ophelia all but gave up now. Letting the horseman taste her
skin without resisting. All she could do was nothing. Death released her nipple
from his cold lips and kissed his way down her midsection and to the curves of
her thighs.
No, not down there!
Death didn’t hold back as he kissed her already protruding bundle of nerves.
Ophelia tried to silence herself as he took it in between his freezing lips.
His sucks, his teeth scraping against it actually began to feel…good. She hated
it and she hated him and herself just as much for thinking his filthy act was
pleasurable. Death smiled through his licks.
It seemed his slave was willing.
It wasn’t long before her back began to arch and she cried out into the morning
light. To torture her, Death snaked his tongue down to her young cunt. She
tasted so sweet, so ready. Ophelia’s hands grasped at her breasts which she
caressed absently. Perhaps to stimulate the pleasure or to act as a source of
comfort. Whichever it was, it only fueled the rider’s lust. He watched keenly
as her soft thumbs rubbed her erect nipples up and down. He prodded deeper and
deeper never taking his glance off her until- “Death! Fuck…” Ophelia cried out
as she rocked her hips following something much stronger.
Her first orgasm.
Death had touched that place deep inside her. That place so sacred, so pure.
Something Ophelia herself hadn’t touched in quite a while. She completely lost
all the innocence she had left inside her. With her hips bucking
uncontrollably, Ophelia came twice coating Death’s lips in her hot arousal.
Death slowly pulled away from the girl to lick the remaining traces from his
wet lips. Ophelia had tears in her eyes just from his doing. A mix of pleasure,
pain, and confusion had shadowed her face. Ophelia didn’t expect his next
action as Death took a hold of her foot. He brushed a finger along the curve of
her left one prompting giggles from his slave.
“Death, ahahahahaha! Stop please! No…. mmmm! Stop!” Ophelia flailed and laughed
as the horseman tickled her feet.
He took her big toe inside his mouth and began to suck it. Ophelia never
thought of anyone doing this to her. It was arousing, yet made her feel sick
and vulnerable. Death released her big toe which was warm and wet with his
saliva. He stood up greeting Ophelia with his very knotted cock, already beaded
with purple cum. The nephilim grabbed the girl by the ankles and forced her
legs open. The realization quick and terrifying in Ophelia’s brain.
“No…” She flailed.
Death ignored her pleas and positioned himself on top of her. Ophelia craned
her head into the pillows as the horseman impaled himself inside her. He rocked
his hips with such strong force that the bed began to creak. Her sex was hot,
wet, and so very tight. He smiled as he smelled her. He watched her cry and try
to push him off. Finally, the young slave grew tired and allowed him to fuck
her. As bad as it was, she began to like what he was doing to her. Her
slickness allowed his manhood to slide in and out of her perfectly. She could
hear her wet flesh squelch from their fucking. Her hands slowly reached out to
touch her master’s back. She found the cadaverous curvature of his spine. The
feel of bones under her touch felt so unnatural, so foreboding. Like a corpse.
It scared her, sickened her, and at the same time, made her feel excitement.
Ophelia’s back arched as she felt herself just about to cum. She was actually
willing. Death could sense it too. Before allowing her to do so, he pulled out
of her and threw her on her stomach until her face was pressed against the
mounds of pillows. With her back still arched and her perfect little ass in the
air, Death unleashed his purple, chilling seed onto her backside letting it
splatter down her lower back and her buttocks. Ophelia could feel her pussy
throbbing, craving for Death’s manhood. Out of the confusion and deprivation,
Ophelia didn’t have much to do.
Instead, she tried to catch her breath and face being shoved into the pillow.
Until she knew what Death was planning on doing to her. Ophelia gasped and
buried her face deeper into the pillows as she felt Death enter her tight hole.
Her anus constricted as he forced himself inside her. It was too late to try to
resist now. She had never ever thought of a man entering inside her this way.
The whole sensation caused her to arch her back higher and higher. Death thrust
in and out of her canal enjoying the tightness of her pink walls. He came twice
inside her. Ophelia could feel his seed trailing from her anus as he pulled out
of her tight ass.
Ophelia, hurting and trying her best not to let her tears flow over sat up with
her back to Death. She turned to face him, her eyes full of hurt and distrust.
Death took a moment to catch his breath.
“Come. I’ll run a bath for you.”
Ophelia was more than happy to oblige. Although she didn’t show it. For some
reason, she felt as if there were eyes upon her and not just Death’s.
Fury stood up from her seat at the keyhole. A hiss escaped her pouting lips.
Her hatred growing for Little Ophelia and her brother as well. She crossed her
arms over her breasts and leaned against the wall next to the door. Just then,
Death came out wearing nothing but cloth pants, boots, and a leather belt. He
softly shut the door behind him and focused on his younger sister.
“You sure trust that child enough to leave her alone.” Fury commented
spitefully.
“She’s taking a bath. I locked the door behind her. Besides, she knows the
outcome.”
“What is she to you, Death? What is so special about her in the first place?”
“She is possibly the last of her kind and the most fragile.”
“And what has that got to do with-”
“Because she is mine.” Death confirmed in a voice that Fury knew too well.
The discussion was over. Silence. Fury pressed on.
“So you like her better than me I suppose.”
“Sister. Is that what was really on your mind?” Death couldn’t help but
chuckle. Fury pouted and looked away. Her pale cheeks turning red.
“You know I don’t feel that way, don’t you?” Death affectionately put his hand
on her shoulder. “Fury look at me.” He felt his sister tense to his touch.
“Your flesh is always so cold.” Fury said meekly.
Death’s hand went to her blushing cheeks. He stroked them softly. Fury’s spine
straightening against the wall as he touched her. It was rare for Death to
touch her like this. When she was younger, her and Death had been close. Death
would let her ride on his shoulders and even taught her how to hunt. They would
take their horses out and ride together along the paths and up the valleys and
hills of their world. All that was so long ago. But the way Death was touching
her was different. It was more than just a sibling bond. Death examined his
little sister. She had grown up to be such a beautiful Nephilim. Her cheeks so
full, her jawline strong, her attitude reminding himself of him.
A determined horseman’s sister.
Death brushed his thumb along her lips. Fury looked up at her brother with her
bright eyes.
“Brother? Do you want me?” Fury asked softly.
Death suddenly pressed her against the wall. Fury gasped. She felt something
she wasn’t accustomed to. Helplessness.
“Brother…” She gasped as she felt Death’s fingers go to her top.
He undid the lacing with surprising litheness. Death fell to his knees and took
Fury’s breast into his mouth to suck on her nipple which was already hardened
from the chill of the castle. Fury felt herself become wet underneath her
skirt. Her hand strayed down from it’s place on the stone wall to rub herself
through her panties. She used two fingers to encircle her clitoris. She began
pinch and pull on it until it was visible through her undergarments. As she
masturbated with each of Death’s sucks, her other hand went to caress her
brother’s head. She stroked his black hair while her back rested against the
wall.
“I want you to treat me better than how you treat your little slave.”
“And how is that exactly?” Death asked teasingly, ceasing his doing.
Fury giggled. Death stood up to meet his sister’s eyes. He took a hold of both
her wrists and thrust himself upon her waist. She could feel his very knotted
manhood through the fabric. Suddenly, two phantom hands appeared at his side.
They went to work on undoing his pants until his cock was in full view. Once
they served their master, they crawled up Fury’s skirt to peel off her soaked
panties. Fury smiled as she felt the slick fabric rip from her body leaving her
sensitive wet flesh exposed for Death’s view. Death’s reaper hands seized her
skirt and gave it a sharp tug, ripping the material in half.
“Brother! You owe me a new dress-ah!” Fury hissed only to be silenced by the
feel of Death’s mouth to her quim.
“Ah, yes brother!” She cried as she arched against the wall.
Death licked at her bundle of nerves that stood hard against her hot, pink
flesh. He sucked on it, savoring the feeling of Fury’s fingers pressing her to
him. He continued this for some time until Fury couldn’t take it anymore.
“Death, stop teasing me. Please brother, I’m going to go mad!” The Nephilim
female moaned. 
Death gave her one last suck before pulling away.
“Patience sister. I’ll give you plenty.”
Fury gasped as she felt his reaper hands once more this time, fondle her
breasts. It had been a while since her and Death had such an intimate
chemistry. Being the last female Nephilim came with the disadvantages. Not that
Death had been too keen on letting his younger sister court any Nephilim men.
“Death! Mmm…Fuck me…Yes Death…” Fury whispered.
Death’s hands slid from underneath her buttocks to lift her up against the
wall, giving him a better angle to fuck her. The wall was cold, and her skin
crawled with goosebumps as it touched her. Yet she didn’t care. What Death was
doing to her was so perfect. Death smiled as he felt her buttocks jiggle with
each thrust. She was so wet, so hot, so tight. It had been forever since he had
felt her insides. It didn’t take long for Death to reach his orgasm. They both
came at the same time. She enjoyed the feel of Death’s hands squeezing her ass.
Her legs tightened around him as he released his cool seed inside her. She felt
some spill down her inner thighs and stain her skirt.
Bastard. She thought, not without smiling to herself.
Death remained inside her for a couple more minutes before slowly pulling out
of her, his cock coated in her cream and his purple. He gave Fury a chance to
cool off and rest against the wall for balance.
“Brother,” Fury finally gasped. “Give me more.” She moaned, spreading her legs.
“You were always such a spoiled girl.” Death teased grabbing his sister’s hips.
As he fucked her again, he studied her face. So flushed, so strong, determined,
yet breakable. She was his sister after all. The resemblance was striking.
Death released inside her three times with a gruff moan. Drool coated itself on
Fury’s chin. Her brother was still so rigid, so rough. She loved it. Her
thoughts only focused on him as she enjoyed their first connection in
centuries.
Ophelia sat on the edge of the bathtub in nothing but a crimson robe. She
watched as the purple bathwater swirled down the drain. Her hair hung in wet
tendrils around her waist. Her skin free and clear of any remaining traces of
Death. Ophelia had already rubbed scented lotion on her skin to ease the pain
and friction on her thighs and lower area. She crossed her legs and began to
whimper in discomfort. Her womb hurt. Just envisioning the Nephilim’s seed
inside her was enough already. Sleepily, she made her way to the door only to
find it locked.
That bastard. He locked me in here.
Ophelia pressed her ear against the door. Were those voices she could hear?
“Death?” Ophelia called.
No answer.
Ophelia began to panic. He wouldn’t just forget about her, would he? No of
course not. She was his slave after all. Ophelia searched the sink cabinet and
took out a pillow. She placed it in the bath and climbed back in to rest. It
was uncomfortable, to say the least. Although, she felt somewhat safe. Death
wasn’t there even though the bathtub was hard and nothing like her bed. It
reminded her of the awful cots they had to sleep on back at the shelter. If she
closed her eyes and thought hard enough, she could picture her mother and
friends by her side. Soon, she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
***** Sweet Girl *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia discovers that Death isn't the only master she can serve.
Fresh sunlight streamed through the stained glass window and patterned along
the bed. The light poured into Ophelia’s sleeping face. Still half-asleep,
Ophelia groaned and turned to her side only to be met with the sleeping face of
Death. He snored silently, loose strands of black hair hung around his face,
unwavering. His face hardened as if battling something in his sleep. Ophelia
watched him in this tranquil state. The more she watched, the stronger the
desire to touch his face creeped into her mind like millions of little
spiderlings scouting for a crevice to take shelter in after emerging from their
mother. It was a strangely peaceful sight to see this Nephilim man finally in a
docile state. She could watch him some more or she could thrust the pillow from
underneath her and press it to his face. She pondered about this. Would he be
aware of her intention seconds before she so much as grabbed the thing or would
he simply struggle and kill her with his own hands? Ophelia could almost feel
those cold skeletal hands around her neck. It made her stomach churn. Her eyes
panned to the great stained-glass window that overlooked the both of them.
One fall and I’d be done for
Ophelia thought grimly.
One shatter and the glass could cut me. Or better yet, I could cut Death. Slit
his throat.  Ophelia stared at Death for just a couple more minutes.
No. Then what would become of you? Just to get auctioned of again to one of
those monsters out there who would do worse things such as rape you, maim you,
and kill you? You’d be dead in a heartbeat!
Out of her peripheral vision, she caught Death’s fiery eyes on her.
“Good morning, Ophelia.” Death’s voice sent tremors down her spine. She was
almost afraid he could hear her thoughts.
“Good morning.” She said - a little too timidly.
“It’s time for your first day of work.” Death declared sitting up letting the
blanket fall to his waist. His hair cascaded down his mid-back. Long, greasy
strands askew. Ophelia would’ve giggled but knew better to catch herself.
“I made something for you to wear.”
Death cast the blanket aside and stepped off the bed exposing his bare,
backside to her. Ophelia couldn’t help but gaze. His body was so picturesque
for being the Reaper. So symmetrical, so perfectly fit…
Ophelia shook the thoughts from her head and focused on Death pulling the dress
out from the wardrobe.
It was a pretty, cream color - almost angelic. He handed it to her along with a
pair of equally white panties.
“I stayed up all night making this for you.”
“Thank you Death.” Ophelia said distractedly. He had truly done a fantastic job
on it. The fabric was so soft.
Ophelia examined her dress in the mirror. It was a little tight in the bust
which was more or less intentional with long sleeves and a hem that only went
up to her thighs. It showed off all her curves and most of her skin. Death even
stitched in a corset bust showing off her cleavage and pink outline of her
nipples. The panties were equally as snug. Death had also fixed together brown
leather riding boots for her. They were warm and stuffed with fur. A bit too
old fashioned for her taste. Still, it felt good just to be clothed. 
 
“I’ll take you to make breakfast for yourself. I trust you know how to do the
dishes?” Death spoke as he lead her to the kitchen.
“Yeah of course, thank you.”
Ophelia replied, distractedly staring at the cobblestone wall as they descended
the steps.
Ophelia had done more than enough dishes in her life to know. Being brought up
by a single mother, it was always her responsibility to do them when she got
home from school. She didn’t mind it really. A clean townhouse was a blessing.
 
Ophelia didn’t know that by making breakfast, Death would be referring to her
cooking breakfast for all three horsemen. At the long, wooden kitchen table sat
War to the left of Fury and on the opposite side was Strife who was carving
something in the wood with a slab of stone. When he saw her, he grinned.
“Rough night huh, princess?”
Ophelia turned her head in embarrassment. She remembered how the brothers had
been with her. How they had used her body as if she was nothing but a filthy
harlot. She tried not to cry as she felt Death’s siblings eye her. The kitchen
was small for such a grand castle. With a primitive stove and mounted pots,
pans, ladles, and colanders among the walls. To the right on the floor was a
mop and bucket.
“There’s coffee in the top right cabinet,” Death explained gesturing. “I
brought in the meat for you to prepare. It’s hanging in the pantry. Silverware
and dishes are in the opposite cabinet. When you’re done eating, I want you to
mop up and wipe down all the counters. When you’re finished completely, come
find me. I’ll be in the horse stables.”
Ophelia took the meat out of the pantry as Death had told her to and set it on
the counter. It was wrapped up tight in Butcher’s paper. It bled through the
wax and onto the counter. She had no idea what animal it could have been from
and had no intention to find out. She tried to push the gruesome thought out of
her mind as she reached for a frying pan. She lit the stove and placed the pan
on top. As she waited for the pan to heat up, she reached for the coffee. Once
the pan was hot, she ripped open the paper with a carving knife and placed it
in the pan. She looked around for something else to go with it. Ophelia grabbed
a jar that was filled to the brim with grain. The label read Porridge in
cursive letter much too dainty to be Death’s.
Ophelia just finished pouring the coffee into four tin cups. She gathered two
wooden plates for War and Fury. Just as she turned to get Strife’s, he pinched
her bottom. Ophelia jumped and let out a little scream of shock. This sent the
Nephilim into a burst of laughter.
“Hurry up why don’t ya? I’m starving.” Strife leaned back in his chair propping
his boot on the table.
Fury rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee. War grunted coldly as he bit
into a large hunk of meat. Ophelia set down the plate a little too harshly in
both annoyance and humiliation. As she turned to get her own, Strife pulled her
to his body causing him to sit right back up. Ophelia fell to his lap and
struggled to get up only to be pulled harder towards the horseman.
“Ow Strife! Let go!” Ophelia whined.
“Strife!” Fury hissed at her brother.
Strife released his grip sending Ophelia stumbling back.
“Why won’t you leave her alone?” Fury demanded.
“And what fun would that be? She’s so ready to break at any minute. Just look
at her. So pathetic.”
Strife grabbed the bloody meat with his own bare hands and began to dig in. His
sharp teeth pulling the meat clean off the bone. He licked his fingers after he
was done. Ophelia didn’t know whether to feel shocked, hurt, or afraid.
Instead, she felt all three at the same time.
Ophelia forced herself to eat her breakfast although she couldn’t really taste
it. She sat at the far end of the table excluding herself from the group. All
the while, she could hear Strife babbling in that strange demonic language and
Fury and War acknowledging halfheartedly as they ate. She had a feeling he was
talking about her judging by the way he kept stealing glances at her from down
the table. She didn’t dare eat the meat especially since it’s origins were
unknown, but ate the porridge and drank all the coffee in her cup. Once she was
done, she gathered the Nephilim’s plates and began to wash them. War and Strife
had left to train, they had said. All that remained behind was Fury. Ophelia
hadn’t met her gaze with her all morning even when she had stood up for her.
She thought of thanking her. She was- at least - the only one to show genuine
kindness. Fury was sitting with her elbow on the table drumming her fingers on
her cheek thoughtfully. Ophelia timidly approached the rider.
“Are you finished with your coffee?” She spoke up wringing her hands.
Fury either ignored her or didn’t seem to hear her.
“I’ll take it if you are.” Ophelia reached to take the cup. As she finished
washing the last remaining dish, Fury spoke to her.
“Death really finds you special, child.”
Ophelia shut off the water and set the cup on the drying rack.
“I guess.” She said as if it was nothing.
“You’re afraid of me, aren't you?” Fury asked amused.
Ophelia didn’t know how to respond.
“You’re adorable, you know that? Death and my brothers can do whatever they
please to you and you would still find yourself in the same place. It seems
like the end days kept you the same. Weak.”
Ophelia sighed and felt all the hope of befriending Death’s sister lost.
“I- I’m sorry.” Ophelia whispered.
Fury stood up to take her leave. As she made her way to the steps, she stopped
and turned her head to Ophelia.
“Just remember your boundaries, girl. Watch yourself and maybe you’ll become
stronger.” With that, Fury left. Ophelia watched until she disappeared up the
steps and she could no longer hear the clicking of her heels on the cobblestone
floor.
 
After Ophelia finished cleaning up the kitchen, she made her way out the back
door and to the horse stables. Ophelia dreaded the place every since her first
encounter in the strange realm had given her an insight on how her life would
be from now on. College, marriage, a family of her own, were now just a little
girl’s fantasy. Ophelia approached the open entrance like a young girl who was
trying to sneak by a sleeping fierce dog. Like a bizarre orifice, empty and
hollow inside. Dark, dim, with a cold, chilling welcome. Ophelia stood in the
doorway and watched Death lovingly stroke Despair’s muzzle. Dust rested on his
saddle that was slung on the wooden post half-obscured by the darkness, only
his shiny eyes remained luminescent. Once he spotted Ophelia, he shook himself
awake and picked absently at his feathers. Ophelia leaned against the entrance
and watched the horsemen. He was being so good, so gentle to his stead. As if
every ounce of evil and doom had left him. Ophelia began to see a much softer
side to the rider. She didn’t know how to feel. Something had made him want to
keep her, that was for sure. But just thinking about how he had raped her,
slapped her, and made her bleed, brought back those hateful feelings toward
him. Still…
“Ophelia. I know you're standing there. Have you finished the kitchen?”
“Yes, Death.”
“Good girl. Come over here and I’ll teach you what to do next.”
Ophelia approached.
“Here.” He handed her a curry comb.
“I’ll show you how to brush Despair. Run the comb through his mane like this.”
Death took her soft hand with his and helped her guide the comb through his
long, stringy mane. With the other, she stroked his broad chest. Her fingers
dug themselves into the crevices of his bones. She was surprised at how
deteriorated the beast was, yet how alive it seemed, as if it were a healthy,
living horse. Ophelia brushed through his mane, untangling all the knots and
tangles. Once that was done, his mane remained long and frayed but not without
a healthy, almost living shine.
“I’ve always wanted a horse.” Ophelia spoke running her fingers through his now
vibrant mane.
“Would you like your own?” Death asked, as if considering it.
Was he really giving her that option?
“Could I?” Ophelia spoke like a child.
“It could be arranged.” Death chuckled. Was this the same monster who tied her,
gagged her, and slapped her?
Ophelia focused her attention on Despair.
“Maybe.” She replied.
After this was complete, Death gathered a rake from the back of the room. He
stood behind her and held her hands gently to demonstrate how it was done.
“Gather the hay into the center of the stable. Get it into a neat pile and drag
it out of the stable.” Death instructed.
Ophelia nodded as he guided her hands with the grip of the rake. Death stood
back and watched her gather the hay into a neat pile.
“Soon you wont even need me to help you. Tell me, did you ever work back in
your world?”
“I had a couple jobs over the summer. I babysat for a couple kids in my
neighborhood. That was pretty fun. Then My friends and I worked at an ice cream
shop. We would give free ice cream to little kids. It was a nice job. I liked
it.” Ophelia had to pause to wipe her teary eyes. She missed her home, her
friends, and most of all, her mother and her old life. They were all she had,
and now that was all gone. She stopped where she stood and gripped the rake.
Her tears running down her face in little ribbons.
“I miss my home.” Ophelia said, finally.
Death made his way over to her and took the rake from her. He set it aside and
held Ophelia. Her body was so limp, Like a forgotten bisque doll. Ophelia
allowed the horsemen to press her close to him. Even though he was cold, she
felt so warm inside. She had forgotten what it was like to be held for the
longest time.
“That’s enough of that, young one.” Death said after kissing her head gently.
His tone was as soft and gentle as if he she were a little girl.
“Death, I’m scared. Please hold me.” Ophelia pleaded.
Even Death himself was surprised by her persistence. Death continued to hold
her and together they stood like that for quite some time.
Ophelia sleepily made her way up the steps. Her first day as slave had
completely taken it’s toll on her. All she wanted to do was get a bath and get
to sleep. If she wasn’t so tired, she would have been able to see the figure
sitting in the armchair watching her make her way to the bathroom.
Ophelia drained the bathtub and reached for the hanging towel on the rack.
After she dried her hair, she applied her body lotion and dressed in a robe
that was much too small for her. She stepped quietly out of the bathroom and
headed to the bed. Death wasn’t there. He hadn’t been there for dinner. He left
once she finished with the horse stables and ordered her to make the bed and
tidy up the bedroom. Ophelia guessed that he would appear later in the night
when she would be sleeping like he had the morning before. Strangely, Ophelia
felt another presence in the room.
She shook it off - reasoning that it was just her mind playing tricks on her.
She had been at it for hours. Pausing to have a light lunch and then to make
dinner for Death’s siblings. She undid her robe in the dark letting it fall in
a crimson pile at her feet and climbed into the soft bed. Just as she was
dozing off, she felt someone sit at the edge of the bed.
“Huh? Death is that?-”
Ophelia sat up wide awake and alert. In the dark, she made out glowing, yellow
cat eyes, a perfect jawline, sharp grinning teeth-
“Strife?”
Whatever Ophelia was going to say, it was all cut off by Strife’s warm lips on
her own. She could taste alcohol, smoke, and something that tasted of blood.
Cold,like his brother's but so much warmer. He was full of life.
“Strife! Strife, Death will kill me…” Ophelia cried trying to resist Strife’s
forceful kisses.
Instead, he kissed her neck and tried to pull the blanket down from her
shoulders.
“He’s not here. He’s been gone all night. I bet he didn’t even tell you where
he went did he? He’s always been that way. Disappearing.”
Strife kissed his way down to he breasts. His warm lips found her cool nipple
that hardened from his stimuli.
“Strife, mmm! Strife, please…”
Ophelia clutched the blanket. Her cunny became hot and wet. She didn’t
understand why. Maybe it was because his forcefulness was somewhat consenting.
Mostly because how playful he was being with her. His left hand creeped to her
neck to tickle her. Strife kissed both her breasts and crept his hand to cup
her soft, warm flesh. He gave it a squeeze. Ophelia moaned and bucked her hips
enough to feel the blankets slide in between her legs. She could feel the
material become soaked from contact.
“I know you like what I’m doing to you, Slave.” Strife said, a matter-of-
factly.
Strife squeezed her nipple in between his calloused thumb and forefinger.
Ophelia was defenseless against him. She allowed Strife to pull the blanket off
of her, leaving her exposed in the cool night air. Strife let go only to
undress. Ophelia could barely make out his very knotted cock in the darkness.
“Strife, Death will kill me.” She repeated solemnly.
The young Rider positioned himself on top of her with his legs parallel to her
waist. He leaned in close enough to brush his lips against her earlobe.
“No he won’t. I won’t let my brother touch you while I’m here.” He whispered,
lust coating every word.
He looked Ophelia into his eyes. They glowed with sexual desire and something
that made her feel safe.
“Do you mean it?” Ophelia asked, gravely.
“Yes.”
Strife kissed her collarbone.
“Let me taste you, little princess.”
Ophelia spread her legs, not without reluctance.
“Mmm…Strife…Oh Strife…” Ophelia moaned sucking on her fingers to prevent
herself from screaming with lust as the Nephilim man ravished her soft flesh.
Strife smiled at her moans through teasing licks. She tasted so sweet. Her hips
thrusted in perfect par with his tongue. Finally, she came - soaking his face
in her cream. Strife continued his sinful doing.
“Strife, Strife! No, I can’t possibly…mmmnnn!” Ophelia cried out as she felt
another orgasm approaching.
Afterwards, Strife took her for the first time that night.
“Fuck you are so tight, Slave! Even after being fucked by my brothers. By the
Creator, you are so fucking hot.”
Their thrusts were perfectly timed. During the course of their love making,
Strife trailed his lips down her neck nearly driving Ophelia crazy. He did
something strange. Right when Ophelia was about to cum, he bit her neck. Not
too hard, but nearly breaking the skin. More so nipping, than actual biting.
“Strife, what are you doing? Please no! I’m scared, please no!
Ophelia started to cry. Strife slowly pulled out of her tight, little hole much
to her disappointment as she felt her approaching orgasm wane.
“Ophelia.”
Ophelia. He actually said my name for the first time. He remembered it.
Strife consoled Ophelia as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“Please don’t hurt me. Please…”
“I won’t. But I want to take you while you’re in this state. You’re so
beautiful right now. I need to see you cry. Your tears are bliss to me right
now as your screams will be.”
Ophelia nodded in the dark, thankful that it wasn’t Death who was commanding
her to do such a thing.
“Arch your back towards me so I can see your cute ass.”
Ophelia did so.
She gasped as she felt him spank her. He sent three harsh blows to her buttocks
leaving pink marks on her delicate flesh. Tears ran down her face, both from
shame and bliss. He hurt her, yet excited her in ways she could not say.
Strife straddled her hips and guided his manhood over her soft petals. He
lovingly stroked her cheek all the way up to her hair taking in a handful
before slipping inside her hot, wet cunt. This position was new to her. She
screamed, moaned, and cursed at him. A new sensation began to overcome her,
thrill. She liked the pain Strife was giving her.
“Mmm! Strife, mmm…Yes. Strife, yes!” Ophelia moaned as Strife thrusted into
her, deeper.
Her cunt was so wet, so tight. It made Strife come right then and there. He
remained inside her for the duration of her second orgasm that was brought when
his thumb began to encircle her protruding clitoris. Ophelia lost herself.
“Yes Strife fuck me harder, fuck me harder Strife! Strife! Aghhhh!”
Upon her third orgasm, Strife groped her breasts. Pulling and brushing against
her nipples that were equally as erect as her over-engorged core. With his
thumb teasing her clitoris, his other hand pulled her hair until he could make
out the outline of her sweet flushed face. This sent Ophelia over the edge.
They came together, their moans filling up the room as one.
 
“Promise you won’t tell?” Ophelia asked cuddling Strife under the covers of the
master bed.
The Nephilim’s seed slowly running down her thighs, her tummy protruding from
his gobs of cum - still warm and so, so comforting. She wondered if she could
get pregnant from him.
Strife kissed her head and pressed her closer to him.
“I promise. Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight?”
Ophelia glanced towards the door. She remembered Death and what he would do to
her if he found her and his brother in bed together.
“Your brother…Won’t he get mad?”
Strife shrugged.
“He has a way of disappearing. One time he left for nearly 500 centuries.”
“No.” Ophelia said, nearly laughing.
“It was very alarming for us. Especially Fury. She will do anything for Death.
They’ve been so close.”
“Huh.” Ophelia was surprised to say the least.
It seemed so strange that such a cold, unfeeling being such as Death could love
anything. She had seen him with his horse, with Dust, and now with his
siblings. It made her feel a twinge of jealousy in her heart.
“Come, I’ll take you to my bedchamber.”
Strife took her hand and lead her down from the bed. He handed her robe to her
before they left the room together. For the first time since she arrived in the
vile place, she was beginning to feel loved.
 
Death sat on a large stone sharpening Harvester. He had been to this place many
times before. A small wood a couple miles from the castle. A place to be alone,
to ponder. In the distance, he watched as Despair rolled around in the ashes
that coated the ground. Ashes rained down on the horsemen, peppering his hair
in wispy spiderwebs of cinders. He didn’t mind. His attention focused on the
blade. Judging from the coolness of the air and purple darkness in the sky, it
was midnight.
Death thought about the girl with each stroke of the blade against the
whetstone he carried strapped around his waist. From a dying tree branch, Dust
fluttered down squawking until taking his place on the cool stone next to the
horsemen. The bird puffed his feathers causing a flurry of ash around him, then
went to work on preening the remaining cinders out with his beak.
What about the girl? Dust’s sideways stare asked.
“When the time is right, it shall happen.”
Dust cawed as if asking, and what if she refuses?
“Then I will kill her myself. And you know the rest.”
Dust remained silent only chattering his beak as he shook the remaining ash
from his feathers. Death stared into nothing, going over the words he had just
spoken in his head.
***** Falling Away *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia loses her mind.
Ophelia had finished her chores early the next day. She had a particular reason
for this though. Today was a different day. She would be going out with Strife.
Ophelia smiled as she ran the bathwater. She waited until it became nice and
warm before undressing and settling in. Her mind went to Strife. She couldn’t
recall the last time she had been on a date with anyone.
She hurried over to the wardrobe and picked out a nice red robe with a laced
bust and slit in the thigh to wear. She chose a pair of high heeled boots to go
with it and braided the left side of her hair. Strife was already waiting for
her in the foyer. Instead of his usual armor he wore black clothe pants, a
brown leather vest, and black beat up riding boots. Strife smiled immediately
once he saw her. 
“You’re beautiful, Multum Reginae.” 
“Thank you, Strife. But what does that mean?” Ophelia asked laughing as he took
her hand in his.
“It means my little princess. To me you are my princess and not some toy for my
brother’s delight.”
Strife kissed her hand like a gentleman and lead her out of the castle.
He took her to the horse stables where a beautiful cream-colored horse was
waiting for them. Upon seeing his master, he thrashed his hooves up in the air
and whinnied with delight.
“Ophelia, Battle. Battle, Ophelia.” Strife introduced stroking his stead’s
broad neck.
“He’s beautiful.” Ophelia whispered in a trance, gently tracing her fingers
down his muscular chest.
Truly he was. Smaller than Death’s horse - at least by his shoulder length.
Strife helped her on top letting her take the front while he took his seat on
the back. Ophelia was at first fearful. She hadn’t rode on a horse since she
was five at a birthday party. But with Strife’s muscular arms around her waist,
it was promise enough that he wouldn’t let her fall. Still she kept his saddle
in a tight grip. Once she began to lose her edge, Strife would creep his hands
up to her breasts and squeeze them, pinching and rolling her nipples through
the soft fabric of her robe. The gallops of Battle fueling the desire between
her legs. Only until Strife gave a silent command in demon did Battle cease
causing Ophelia to lose the threat of release.
“You’ll get yours. What you’ve been wanting. Just wait, Ophelia. Just wait.”
Strife purred into her ear.
Ophelia smiled and tried to focus on the scenery in order to distract herself
from her near orgasm. A little ways up ahead, Ophelia spotted a large glowing
orb. It shone bright green, nearly as green as Despair. Engraved in it was some
type of runic markings.
“What is that?” Ophelia asked Strife warily as Battle’s galloping became
faster.
“You’ll see. Just hold on tight.” Strife reassured. 
Battle took on a full running leap. They soon both disappeared within, as did
the orb itself. They found themselves in a beautiful lush valley. Dragon flies
encircled a fairy tale pond that was full of shiny pebbles. They were enclosed
by a group of redwood trees as if they could protect them from the apocalypse
and it’s aftermath. The space was wide enough for only them and just as
secured.
"What is this place?” Ophelia inquired after Strife dismounted to secure Battle
to a deformed branch.
“What we passed through was a void. A new realm. In this realm, it’s just us. A
place where we can be together.” Strife explained as he helped her down.
“Come, I’ll show you.”
Strife held her hand as they made their way through the winding, redwood paths.
Past the trees was a lush valley. On top of a grassy hill was a large willow
tree. Ophelia was mesmerized.
“I’ll race you. Ready? Once, two, three!” Before she had time to react, Strife
began to run to the tree.
“Strife! Wait!” Ophelia cried through laughter, running to catch up.
Once she was on top, Strife grabbed her into a tight embrace. He began dancing
with her, twirling her, and dipping her so low her hair touched the ground.
Ophelia couldn’t stop giggling. Never before had she felt so free. Strife then
pulled her into him and together, they collapsed in the grass cuddling each
other. Strife took the time to look at her. He stared into her dark, sultry
eyes and took a handful of her hair gently interlacing the red strands in his
fingers. He sniffed her hair; smelling her sweet, lemon scented soap. He could
also smell her excitement that radiated from her womb. The temptation to take
her - tohave her under the anticipation of his will only - was strong. Strife
trailed his fingers to her plump lips before kissing her. Not wanting to make
love to her with her back pressed hard against the tree, he gently let her lay
down in the soft blankets of grass.
Ophelia giggled like the little girl she used to be as Strife took a hold of
her hips. He went to work on unlacing her dress slowly. Ophelia, not wanting to
look starving for his flesh tried her best to not beg; but it was too hard.
Strife kissed her neck, all the way down to the middle of her breasts. He
reached up her skirt and gently began to trace his fingers up her thighs.
Ophelia whimpered. His fingers gently stroked her pussy through her panties.
Ophelia touched his chest, running her hands down his tight abs. Once Strife
removed her panties, he lifted her dress and bowed his head down to kiss her
inner thighs…
“Strife! Your tongue is so gentle…” Ophelia cried out giving her fingers a
dainty little lick.
Her free hand went to caress her breasts. Her nipples erect and hard. She
almost forgot how she neglected to wear a bra.
“You taste so sweet, Princess.” Strife commented lewdly.
It only took a few flicks of his tongue until she came; coating his chin and
face in her hot cream. Ophelia writhed and moaned the rider’s name into the
chill of the realm’s air.
“So sweet. Just like you.” Strife said kissing her belly.
“Strife…I want to touch you as we make love.” Ophelia whispered deliriously.
Her face flushed, hair plastered to her face, her breaths slow, and rapid at
the same time. Strife paused momentarily to remove his vest, his cloth pants,
his undergarments, until his manhood stood hard and painfully erect. Ophelia
sat up and snuggled in to Strife. She traced her hands over his chest and abs.
She cuddled his neck as he played with her hair. She held the warm young
nephilim to her. The heat of his body was so special to her. Death was always
so cold. Not that she’d expect any less from the reaper himself. Ophelia kissed
his nipple. She licked it, and took it into her mouth. Strife moaned as her
tongue lapped at his hard nipple. She enjoyed the taste of his sweat, his
flesh. Strife grinned flashing his sharp teeth. He could still taste her.
Gently, he pushed her onto the grass; licking her earlobe, kissing her neck,
and swells of her breasts.
“Get on your knees, my little princess. I want to see your cute little ass as I
fuck you.” Strife paused momentarily; to whisper. 
Ophelia - like a cat - arched her back and pressed her palms into the grass.
Strife delighted in watching her succulent ass turn red under his slaps, her
buttocks jiggle deliciously. Her giggles, her moans, her sighs, he all took
pleasure in indulging himself with causing her pain and pleasure. He even
pulled her hair - to which she didn’t mind at all. It only made her arch
deeper. He released inside her twice. Filling her to the brim with his seed
that warmed her insides and engorged her tummy. Upon his third release, he
pulled out and let it splatter her lower back. Ophelia arched as high as she
could go, as his hot liquid coursed down her skin and settled into her dimples.
Her buttocks were still tender from his repetitive slaps. His surprisingly soft
hands pulled her into him. Together, they nestled up at the base of the tree
and held onto each other.
“I love you, little one.” Strife said kissing her head.
Ophelia blushed. Her cheeks becoming as hot as embers. Her heart fluttering.
“I love you, Strife.” She said back, truly meaning it.
Soon, Ophelia found herself asleep in the cool shade and muscular arms of the
horseman.
It was December. Fresh snow had began to fall in the world she was in and back
on Earth as well. Death had given her a status update one morning while she was
having breakfast with him. This was the first time they had sat down together
civilly. Usually and more often, he would appear in the bedroom after she had
finished her work to fuck her. She had orgasms. Many by him. And although his
manhood was twice as bigger and more rippled and rigid than Strife’s, she
couldn’t help but think of him when she came. Something about Death had excited
her. There were many factors. And what mattered most of all was his attitude
shift. Yes he would still rape her, many times even while she was working. He
would watch her on her hands and knees scrub the floor giving him the perfect
view of her derriere, then pounce on her. It hurt, she would bleed. Then there
were other times when he would show her kindness such as giving her wine,
sometimes even a flower crown he had purchased off in the plains he visite. She
thanked him. She kissed him. Afterwards, they would make love. But in the same
way, she hated him.
The snow that had once given her so much hope, so much happiness was only a
marking of how much time she had spent at the castle. When she had first
arrived, she remembered that it was September. She had just been starting her
senior year at Ellison Creek High School in New York. She remembered when she
had got home from school, she set her bag down, did the dishes and took out her
homework. As she flicked on the TV to watch her favorite show, she found in
horror that all the channels had been turned to the news.
END DAYS NEAR? APOCALYPTIC DOOMSDAY SHELTERS APPEARING WITHIN BACKYARDS OF
SUBURBAN HOMES. DEMON-LIKE CREATURES SPOTTED IN THE SKIES. SPONTANEOUS METEOR
SHOWERS AND LOCUST INVASIONS IN THE WEST COAST AND MIDWEST.
She had called her mother from work to ask is she had heard the news. The world
went into complete panic the next day. That was when her and her mother were
evacuated into the high school. She had only gotten a glimpse of what was to
come as military officials herded her and her mother out of their apartment -
after they had gathered as much of their stuff as they needed. For Ophelia, the
snow used to mean love, purity, a pain to drive in, and Christmas. Now it was
dread.
Her period was off. She remembered it had clearly started in the beginning of
November. They were usually on time, even in the shelter. Sometimes they would
arrive no more than three days later. But this was different. She could feel
something was wrong. Ophelia had woke before her usual wake up time to urinate.
As she came back from the bathroom, she felt swollen in her breasts and she
could scarcely breathe. She felt as if she might vomit. She even fell to her
knees and started dry heaving. Nothing. Her womb began to ache.
Oh God…I can’t be…Oh no what if I am?
The pain in her womb became stronger. She clutched on to it through her robe
and began to cry. It hurt so bad. This woke Death up from his sleep.
“Ophelia? What is it?” He asked, bleary-eyed. 
“I hurt.” She choked out through tears.
Death threw the covers off and knelt down beside her.
“Can you stand?” He asked sounding genuinely concerned.
“Yeah. I think so.”
Using Death’s arm as balance, she let him take her to bed. He didn’t put the
covers on her. Instead, he stood over her and put his hand to her forehead.
“You don’t feel warm. Where does it hurt?” Death inquired.
Should she tell him?
“My belly.” She said instead.
“Do you feel sick?”
“Yeah.” She said through tears.
“Here, let me get you some water.” Death left quickly.
Ophelia began to sob. Her mind raced like a fever dream.
Why didn’t I get pregnant from Death? From War? From…Wait….
The pain in her womb began to subside. The nausea however, grew worse. Death
entered shortly and held a tin of cold water up to her lips.
“Drink.” He said, simply. 
She did so.
“Are you still in pain?”
Ophelia shook her head.
“I’m fine thank you. I just feel like I’m gonna throw up.”
“Go back to sleep. You’re excused from work. Only until you recover.” Death
declared, curtly. 
Ophelia nodded. Death brought the covers up to her shoulders and slipped in
beside her to embrace her. He held her until she was asleep.
Death stayed by her side the next morning; making  sure she was fed with broth
and water. The pain in her womb would start out as sharp, then come back as
throbbing. She wanted badly to confess to Death, but instead found herself
bursting into tears whenever she tried. Death finally had it. He lost his
patience with her.
“What is it?!? Can’t you tell me?”
“Am…I gonna die?” She asked quietly. Her tears running down her cheeks.
Death looked at her with skepticism.
“Of course not. If you aren’t better within the next couple days then I’ll take
you to someone I know who can help. You’re just sick. You’ll make yourself
worse if you keep crying like that. Just rest.”
Ophelia nodded, although she knew it was more than just being sick. The next
day wasn’t much better for her either. She suffered from bouts of morning
sickness. Having to clamber out of bed and vomit. That was when she knew it was
time to confess.
“Death?” Ophelia asked that morning as Death spooned her broth by her bedside.
“What is it, Ophelia?” Death asked bringing the spoon up to her lips.
“I…I think I’m pregnant.” She said, readily.
“That’s not possible,” He said as-a-matter-of-factly. “Eat.”
“Not with your child. With Strife’s.”
He stopped. She was afraid he would hit her as she watched him slowly rise up.
Instead, he grabbed the bowl and threw it across the room. They both watched it
smash against the door in an explosion of broth drool and porcelain glass.
“Where is he?!” He screamed at her.
Ophelia brought her hands up to her chest and started trembling.
“Death please don’t-!” She pleaded. 
“Where is that bastard?! Tell me!” He screamed at her. His hands balled up into
tight fists. Creating indents in his clay-like flesh. 
“I - I don’t know!” Ophelia screamed equally as loud; tears welling up in her
eyes.
Death narrowed his eyes at her - as if in disgust - and stormed out of the room
slamming the door behind him. Ophelia was left speechless. She cradled her face
in her hands and sobbed long and hard until her throat ached.
 
Ophelia lay lifeless in the bath; letting herself completely lose herself in
the warmth and embrace of the water. Her entire body except her face, her
belly, and her breasts completely submerged. Her breasts had swelled, as had
her belly which she rubbed lovingly with her hands. She would talk to it;
smiling at the thought that there was another life inside her. Strife’s
child.Herchild. She hadn’t seen Strife since the day he had taken her to the
realm. Death had forbid it.
She enjoyed her alone time. Ever since Death had sent her back to work, she had
been harassed and taunted by the servants she had crossed paths with. They
belonged to the other half of the castle. Death had told her that they were his
mother's pets, but would tell her no more. They looked like human woman - save
for their teeth, skin color, and eyes. They wore scarlet hoods, with long green
hair, and partially exposed skin. Ophelia imagined them as being succubus. She
would hear them talk badly about her. Sometimes they would pinch her derriere
and call her a little whore.
“It seems Strife has took a liking to her…”
“What a wench she is!”
“That little waif? I didn’t know the horsemen liked them so young.”
“Her especially. She’s hardly more than a child.”
Both of them would cackle while poor Ophelia would try to ignore; tear-stained
eyes and scrubbing the dishes. 
One of the servant woman kicked her in the ass while she scrubbed at the filthy
cobblestone tiles on her hands and knees. She stumbled; grabbing the barrel of
water until it toppled over - splashing on her and her staining her dress in
filthy water. While Ophelia sobbed in humiliation, the servants would giggle
and run up the stairs leaving poor Ophelia to come up with an excuse to Death
on why her dress was caked in filth. After the day was over, that was when she
had all the time in the world with her baby. She had come up with names in her
head. All girl names. Her intuition told her it was female. She thought about
naming her after her mother, Claudia.
Soon, the water became cold and needed to be drained. Once she stepped out, she
dressed in a robe and made her way to the overstuffed armchair next to the
beautiful painted window. She told her baby about her life before. What she
would do for fun with her friends and sing to her.
“You’re the greatest gift I’ve ever received after I was brought here. If only
I could see your father.” Ophelia said to her tummy as she rubbed her hands
over it gently.
She leaned back looking out the glass into the faint traces of the stars. Her
mind dawdled to Strife.
Just then, there was a knock on the bedroom door.
“Strife!” She called throwing her arms on him once she opened the door.
“Shh..” He carried her with one arm into the room and shut the door behind him
“Oh Strife. Your lip.”
The young nephilim’s bottom lip had a visible slice right in the corner.
“It’s alright. Can’t even feel it. Death hit me pretty good.” Strife laughed,
dryly. 
“Strife, I’m so sorry.” Ophelia said warmly, holding his hand.
“Don’t. It is in no way your fault.” Strife kissed her head.
Ophelia led him to the armchair.
“Did you hear?” She asked, after she had sat down.
Strife nodded.
“Let me feel.”
Strife placed his warm hand on her belly. Immediately, the child responded to
his touch and kicked happily upon sensing her father. Ophelia was overjoyed.
She had kicked twice that day. First, when her mother was in the bath talking
to her and now, for Strife.
“She kicked! Strife, she kicked for you!” Ophelia cried, glowingly. 
“She? Aww, that’s too bad. And I was just settling on the name Corbin.” Strife
said, much to his dismay.
Ophelia couldn’t help but giggle.
“We’re not naming our child Corbin.” She teased. 
Strife tilted his head.
“Why? Whatever's the matter with the name Corbin? It’s strong, determined.
Everything that a Nephilim man should be.”
Ophelia shook her head, unable to suppress her smile.
“I can feel that she’s a girl. I don’t know Strife. Something just tells me.”
Ophelia placed her hand on her belly.
“Claudia. We’ll name her Claudia after my mother.” 
Strife placed his hand over hers.
“Claudia is a beautiful name.” Strife said in agreement. 
So it was decided.
 
Sometimes, Fury or War would come to visit Ophelia from the otherside of the
castle. She loved the affection they showed. But most of all, she loved how
much nicer they were being both to her and to her baby. Fury especially, now
that she would have a niece.
“Have you thought on a name yet?” Fury asked Ophelia one night while they were
having a late night cup of tea that Ophelia had made.
“Claudia. After my sweet mother.” Ophelia had told her, proudly.
“Claudia.” Fury said, staring at Ophelia’s plump tummy.
“May I?” She asked.
“Of course.”
Ophelia moved in closer to Fury allowing her to touch.
“She’s kicking.” Fury noted, smiling.
“She already loves you.” Ophelia replied with a smile.
For the first time in such a while, Ophelia was happy. Death had even showed
support for her. He would let her sleep more, let her go outside more, and even
begun to show her genuine affection. She still was confined to his bedroom, but
at least he was loving her. Things had finally seemed much better. But like the
snow, it didn’t last very long.
Ophelia had woken up one morning to pain in her lower back. It started as a
throbbing, sharp pain that soon traveled down to her pelvis. She sat up in bed
and started to groan. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. She had to vomit. She ran
to the bedroom - stumbling to relieve herself. In a dream, she tried to make
her way out of the bathroom but instead found herself clutching the threshold.
I can’t be going into early labor…I’m still in my second trimester…Unless…..Oh
no it couldn’t be….No, no its not. Oh God please don’t let it be…..
She felt something hot, sticky, and warm, run down her legs - staining her
nightgown crimson red. Blood coursed down her legs, pattering to the floor like
raindrops. One look, and she fainted.
 
Ophelia found herself naked underneath a leather blanket on a primitive bed
staring up at the midnight sky. By her side were the four Nephilim. They all
stared at her solemnly except for Strife and Death who’s gaze was cased askew.
Death was playing idly with his thumbs while hunching over a wooden chair,
Strife was looking to the ground with his hands in his pockets. Fury was
chewing on one of her long nails and War was standing against the brick wall of
wherever she was. His eyes obscured by his red hood, blocking out whatever
emotion showed in them. With his back to her was a large man with russet hair
dressed in a bearskin cloak.
“Where am I? My baby… Is she?” Ophelia choked out, clutching the blankets with
both her hands. 
The man turned to her. He had an ancient face, a braided beard, and kind, green
eyes that glistened with sadness.
“Hello Miss Ophelia. I am Solas. A healer…” His voice trailed off.
He opened his mouth to speak, but only sighed. He turned around and produced a
cup of hot tea.
“Drink please…” He gently commanded. 
“Where am I? My baby.” Ophelia repeated, less rushed. 
The healer looked at the horseman. Death shot him a defeated look - as if to
say “Go on.”
“My deepest apologies, Miss Ophelia. You have had a miscarriage.”
“Miscarriage? Oh God…No…” Ophelia started to cry - hard and anguished.
This had to have been a nightmare. Just some horrible dream brought on to her
by the greatest fear of losing the little life inside her. But by the look of
Death’s usually solemn, unafraid face - now overshadowed with something she
could only describe as apologetic - It was clear that this was no dream.
The whole room was enshrouded with silence… Finally, Solas broke it pressing
her to drink.
“It will ease the pain. You'll be able to sleep better.”
Ophelia to in shock to speak any further, drank.
 Absently, her tears spilled down her face and stained the blanket.
“Rest now. Tomorrow you’ll be leaving. Miss, I wish there was more I could say.
I am truly sorry.” Solas consoled.
“Leave her be.” Death ordered to the maker. “I appreciate your help, Solas. But
she needs rest.”
Solas nodded with understanding.
“If she starts ceasing…Well, you know were to find me.”
Death nodded, turning his focus onto Ophelia. Her tears no more. Instead, she
stared at the stars - not speaking - nor moving.
A flurry of snow had fallen the next morning; urging the horsemen to take their
leave. Death bundled Ophelia up in as much blanket as he could find in the
little establishment. Even the thought of hypothermia didn’t scare Ophelia as
much as it would have. What else had she to live for? Everyone she knew was
gone. The life inside her was as well. As fresh and new as snow, now rotted out
and dead. Leaving her just like the lives she had once knew.
Once they were back at the castle, Death ran a hot bath for her.
“Step in. I’ll wash you. Here.”
The poor child had gone limp as he washed her back, her hair. She just sat
there with her knees to her chin staring, staring at absolutely nothing.
Feeling nothing. She fell into a dreamless sleep once he put her to bed.
 
Ophelia hasn’t eaten in days. Nor drank a whole lot either. She isn’t showing
any signs of improving. She’s trapped in herself. In this dream that I can’t
wake her from. She won’t stir. She looks right through me. I can’t do much to
help her. Just wait. Poor child. I know it was wrong of me to hit Strife - to
smash his lip. Ophelia had loved him. And he loved her. I should have kept her
sacred. All the times I raped her, hit her, bruised her - I enjoyed it. And as
sick as it sounds… I can’t say I regret it. She needs to be put in her place.
No…The Nephilim were sterile! I still can’t wrap my brain around how she became
pregnant from my brother’s seed. Never mind that. Once Ophelia comes around,
she will be mine. And if I have to hit her or rape her just to get her to
listen to me, then damn it. So be it.
***** Nathan *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia makes a furry friend.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ophelia's P.O.V
Death has been a lot nicer to me ever since I lost Claudia. Sure he still yells
- and recently, he spanked me for dirtying my dress yet again. But all in all,
he has been showing genuine concern for me. He insisted that I go back to work,
so I've been working for most of the week. Mostly indoors because of the snow.
But when it melts, I'll be able to go outside like I used to. It feels weird
missing Christmas. I've been missing my mother a lot lately. She was such a
beautiful, strong woman. I never knew my father. My mother was always there.
Making sure I stayed on track with my school work, making sure I was provided
for, giving me pep talks when it came to anything from boys, to cheer tryouts.
Sometimes there are days when Death asks me about my past. Whenever he goes
back to Earth, I try to talk him into letting me come just to see the wreckage.
Maybe I'll be lucky enough to find her. Sad thing is, I don't really recall
what happened during that day anymore. Even though only four months have
passed, I just can't remember a thing. I remember hiding in the cabinet…But
that's all. I just can't believe that if that place did give out, If one of
those flying things got to them, wouldn't there at least be one survivor - if
not a few? I feel like Death's hiding something from me. I suppose for now I
should just look forward to leaving the castle. I want to find Strife, but I
can't just go look for him now. Death will get me and he'll bruise me. There's
a bruise on my left buttock that I don't want Strife to see. Already its turned
a dark, ugly, splotchy purple. I can't let him see that. I'm trying to think of
the good things to come. Just gotta get outside and clear my head. Just gotta
clear my head…
The snow had all but melted as Ophelia took her first step outside. The air was
crisp, but just warm enough to wear her usual slave dress. Ever since Death had
accompanied her to work, he forbid her from wearing panties. Today he had been
trusting of her and decided it was best to let her be on her own. But that
still didn't mean she was completely free of him.
"I'll be back noontime. Straighten the stables up a bit and then maybe I'll
take you riding in the valley if you would like." Death instructed as he led
Ophelia into the barn.
Ophelia gave Death a thankful, trusting look and stepped in to fetch the rake
to settle the hay - like usual - into one pile.
"And Ophelia?"
Death - having already turned on his heels, faced back to her.
There was a calmness in his voice that sounded almost genuinely concerned.
Ophelia met his gaze. His eyes were burning with something that Ophelia could
only describe as sympathy. She could tell that whatever emotion he was
conveying in his eyes was sincere. He wanted to say he was sorry. Wanted to
tell her that it would be all better, but instead he found himself sighing and
making his way toward the castle. Ophelia watched him until he vanished from
sight. Tears running down her cheeks. Her mind craved for attention from Death,
her captor. She wanted him to hold her like he had done the second day she
arrived. Instead, she too found herself without words. Somberly, she made her
way to the other side of the room to grab the rake.
Ophelia sat cross-legged on the barn floor scrubbing the dirty bridles in the
washbasin. She stared at the tainted water absently. It had been such a pure,
clear color now it was filthy with bits of dirt and grime floating to the top.
Ophelia wrung the soaked object out and set it to dry on the post. Just then,
she heard a high pitched whine. She jumped; startled by the sudden noise, and
craned her head to the entrance. Sitting there with it's head cocked to the
side was a large Deerhound. Once he caught Ophelia's gaze, he stuck his tongue
out and barked happily.
"Hey boy. Who might you belong to?" Ophelia asked smiling.
She slowly made her way toward the animal and held her hand out for him to
sniff. He gave it two wet licks. Ophelia got down on her knees and stroked the
dog's neck. He licked her face and wagged his tail. Then he pulled away, and
pranced over to the entrance where he stretched his paws on the ground and
stuck his hindquarters out.
"You wanna play? Wanna play, boy? What's your name?" Ophelia cooed. 
The dog barked and clacked his teeth together. Ophelia giggled.
Wait. A dog…Does that mean there's a human nearby? Maybe someone looking for
their pup?
Ophelia abruptly stood to her feet - causing the animal to run up to her,
jumping and urging her to play.
Maybe I should let Death kn-No! No he might harm the poor creature.
Ophelia looked to the dog who know stood at her feet. He whimpered at her
unwavering self, and yapped sadly.
"I'm sorry, pup but you can't be here. - I don't want to let you go -"If Death
finds you here..."
Just then, she heard the crunch of sticks breaking under heavy steel-tipped
boots.
"Ophelia?"
Death stood before them. Both girl and dog looked at him. Death narrowed his
eyes at the hound who was already growling. He stood in front of Ophelia ready
to pounce. His teeth barred, his growls becoming fierce, and hostile. Death's
spine straightened as if he was planning to strike the beast out of his way.
"No!" Ophelia stood between them.
Without waiting for her reaction, Death grabbed her sharply by the shoulder and
placed her behind him.
"Ophelia leave. Now!" Death snapped.
"Death, no! He's my friend!"
Ophelia ran out from behind Death and hugged the canine. The dog still wouldn't
surrender.
"Shhh… It's okay. It's okay. He's not bad…"
Yes he is pounce on him rip his fucking throat out.
"I thought it was attacking you." Death said, a little more calmly.
"Oh please don't hurt him, Death! I think he's lost." Ophelia begged.
Death grunted.
"He might be a maker's canine. I've seen a great many with one's like these.
Very well. But if that beast so much as bares it's teeth at me again, I will
have no problem ending it."
Death affirmed. 
"Thank you, thank you Death." Ophelia snuggled the dog who licked her face
lovingly.
Death confided the dog to an empty chamber in the east wing of the castle. A
cold, eerie place to say the least. Luckily, there was an animal fur rug in
which the dog could lounge on. Across from it was an unused fireplace that
Ophelia could use as a heat and light source when she came to visit him. She
asked Death if he could fashion a leash out for him and a collar. He agreed,
and strictly told her that she was allowed to visit him as many times a day as
she wanted. But only then. At night, she was only allowed to stay where he was.
She fetched a pail of water and a couple pieces of dried salted meat from the
pantry and brought them to the dog. Once he finished eating, he snuggled on the
rug where Ophelia lay with him in the dark. Together, they fell asleep until
Death roused her and took her to his room.
Ophelia decided on the name Nathan which he immediately took a liking to. She
was completely overjoyed at the prospect of having a new companion. Ophelia
would take him on walks around the castle, let him run around in the woods, and
give him baths in the stables.
"Nathan don't shake!" Ophelia would scold - only to soon find herself laughing
as droplets of water clung to her hair, her clothes, and her skin. Then she
would pull the towel over him and hug him tightly to her. Nathan was truly her
savior.
Chapter End Notes
     Hey guys!
     Yeah no erotic elements in this chapter, I know. I mostly added this
     in to soften the trauma Ophelia experienced in the previous one. Fun
     Fact: Ophelia and Nathan's bond was inspired by Karana and Rontu's
     from one of my favorite books, Island of the Blue Dolphins. Be
     prepared for the next chapter. It's gonna be brutal, and filled with-
     lets just say many surprises. Also! Ophelia's thoughts are supposed
     to seem crammed together to show how she's constantly in survival
     mode. Just wanted to establish that so nobody gets confused.
     - Heather
***** Candied Apples *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia has a horrifying, but strangely erotic encounter.
Something had to have been wrong. On this particular night, Death wasn't in his
room with Ophelia where he should have been. He had been so kind to her these
past few days. Even the love they made was different. True he was rough and he
still smacked her; but it felt different somehow. She couldn't explain it.
Whenever he left her, it scared her. 
Ophelia got a quick bath to distract herself from Death's absence. Afterwards,
she slipped into her usual lace robe. She let the bust hang out, no reason not
to. It was cold, and everybody was probably asleep. As quiet as a cat, Ophelia
slipped out of her room and headed towards the chamber where Nathan was
sleeping.
The castle was cold and dark. Her nipples reacted to the freezing chill by
perking up through her robe. The soft fabric rubbed up against her shaved,
chafed cunny with each step she took. Just as she made her way up the winding
stairway, she felt two chilling hands grab her waist. Ophelia screamed and
tried to whip her head around to see who or what had their hold on her.
"Death? I'm sorry. You were-What?" Ophelia heard a feminine giggle from around
her.
She saw the faint outline of pale, glowing eyes. She felt their hands slip
around her waist followed by short fingernails digging into her skin. Another
hand was clasped on her mouth. One of the hands around her waist crept up to
touch her breasts. It seized her left one, and began to squeeze her nipple.
Ophelia bucked her hips and tried her best to be free. She tried licking the
hand around her mouth, but it seemed to excite the creature even more. Ophelia
flailed - causing her perpetrator to press her closer to their body. She felt
their breasts against her back and something...hard as well resting in between
her buttocks. It felt strangely like a cock, but wasn't this creature female?
Ophelia, - from fear - began to swoon…
Ophelia sleepily opened her eyes. She awakened with the front of her robe
opened - her breasts in full view- cold, and frightened on a stained, loveseat.
She tried to get up, but thick leather had bound her wrists to the cushions
from which she lay. Instead, she could only lie on her back and nervously turn
her head to the only source of light around her. Candles had been lit in the
freezing, musk-smelling chamber. Her eyes paced from the left to the right,
then to the iron door at the very end of the confined space. It was bolted from
inside out by many chains and locks. Ophelia had the strange sense of eyes upon
her; but it was impossible to see the other section of the room. For it was
obscured by shadows.
Just then, a figure stepped out.
She - or so Ophelia thought at first - had pale, almost bloodless skin. Her
eyes were milky and opaque like War's. Long strands of platinum hair covered
the outlines of her breasts. She was clothed in only a white wrap-around skirt.
Ophelia made out two frayed upside-down wings protruding from her back. Upon
seeing Ophelia, she smiled wide enough to expose glistening, white teeth; sharp
enough to latch on to Ophelia's skin - if she were hostile. Ophelia turned away
from the fallen angel in fear.
"Mistress, she's awake now. May I?" The angel spoke in a delicate voice,
prompting Ophelia to look at her. 
She looked to be about the same age as Ophelia herself. Perhaps slightly older,
maybe nineteen or twenty at most.
"Not yet. You must obey me, Phoenix. If you do not, I will punish you." One of
the sweetest, softest voices Ophelia had ever heard commanded from within the
shadows.
Ophelia craned her head to the source of the voice and found herself staring
into a pair of yellow, glowing eyes. From the way they narrowed and the candle-
glow reflecting off of them, she could tell that the creature was smiling. 
"Yes, Mistress Lilith." Phoenix said with a polite, but impatient curtsy.
"Very good. Now, walk over to her." 
"Wait!" Ophelia cried. "Where am I? Where's Death? Who are you?" Ophelia
directed her questions to either of them. 
The unknown source giggled.
"Sweet child. I'm sure Death has much to say about me. I am Lilith. Mother of
Demons, Death's mother as much as he repels the truth. My little servant here,
you have already been acquainted with Phoenix - saw you, captured you for her
own and my own, and now you belong to us. You are our treasure. You are my
slave."
Slave? Hadn't she done this dance already?
"No, I can't be your slave! Death already owns me…and if he finds me here, he
might kill me. Please, you have to let me go." Ophelia implored with tears
welling in her eyes. 
Lilith tsked like a mother who was watching her spoiled child cry over a broken
doll.
"My son. Mmm, the fun we've had in this room together. But that was decades ago
and now he rarely pays me visits. Such a curious boy he was…" Lilith's voice
trailed off almost to a whisper as if Ophelia wasn't there.
"If he should come around, I suppose he'll just have to bet on you again." The
tone in her voice made it clear that there was no other way out.
Ophelia began to cry silently.
"Poor child. Phoenix, go over to her and tie her loose." Lilith ordered. 
Phoenix gave her mistress a subtle nod before appearing behind Ophelia. Soon,
her hands were free and she had control once more. She sat up on the loveseat
and looked to the angel with fear and distrust as she tried to obscure her
breasts with her robe.
"It's been so long since I've had the pleasure of a human female." Phoenix
confessed - reaching out to stroke Ophelia's face. Ophelia backed further into
the love-seat with a frightened   a whimper.
"Now, Phoenix. Lift up your skirt." Lilith's voice infiltrated the room like a
sweet-smelling perfume . 
Ophelia started to tremble.
"Please, I don't like girls!" Ophelia pleaded. 
"Oh, but I'm not a girl, miss. Not anymore." Phoenix piped with an innocent,
calmness in her voice. 
Phoenix lifted her skirt much to Ophelia's horror. For she was greeted by a
very well-hung length. Ophelia couldn't fathom what she was seeing.
"W-w-what a-are you?" She choked out.
"Once a young angel sentinel named Valencia, she desired something much more
than her celestial body could offer. She came to me and requested a small
amend," Lilith explained, her eyes igniting with every word.  "Touch it, Slave
of Death."
That very name brought chills to Ophelia's body. It was the calmness in her
voice that made her do so. Trembling, Ophelia brought her hand to the female's
length and clasped it softly, like she would with Death and his brothers.
"Pull it, Slave." That soft, almost nurturing voice urged.
Ophelia used both of her hands to stroke it up and down. Feeling every pulsing
vein. The fallen angel moaned - desiring nothing more than to release her seed
all over the young girl's face. Ophelia continued the stimulation the best way
she knew how. She had done this to Death many times. Unlike his, this one was
warm and pulsing with life. Finally, the angel did release - grabbing a fistful
of Ophelia's curls. Her seed spurted on her hands. Some - on her cheek and
robe. Ophelia cried out. The warm liquid was strange to her. She couldn't
remember the last time she had felt Strife's against her skin.
"Lick it. Suck it off your skin, pretty girl." Lilith addressed to Ophelia. 
Ophelia wiped her left cheek to taste Phoenix's cream. It was warm. So warm
against the chill of the chamber. Ophelia licked the remaining seed off her
fingers, sucking them free of any leftover traces her tongue failed to get. To
finish it off, she licked her lips slowly  much to Phoenix's interest.
"Phoenix. She is yours to command for the next half. Have your fun with her.
Then maybe, I'll join in."
"Oh Mistress, I've never taken two woman at the same time!" She confessed
happily.
Phoenix focused her attention to Ophelia. Ophelia looked back at her with shame
and fear. She couldn't believe she had sucked this creature's cock.
"Go to the loveseat." Demanded Phoenix, feeling herself harden just at the
thought of ravishing the girl and using her power against her.
Ophelia quickly obeyed - perhaps even a little too abruptly. Phoenix grinned as
she made her way towards the frightened teen on the couch. She placed her hands
on her legs and slowly trailed them up to her thighs until her robe rose past
her waist. Phoenix's pupils dilated in the most alarming way as she took in the
site of Ophelia's mons pubis. Ophelia trembled, wincing as she felt the fallen
angel spread her legs as wide as they could go. Upon seeing her pink, hot flesh
for the first time, Phoenix gasped. She whispered something in that same
archaic language Death spoke. Suddenly, appearing from the shadows stepped out
a female demon - adorned in something that would be nearly impossible to call a
dress. The skin-tight fabric outlined her pussy perfectly, as did the armor
surrounding and providing very little support for her large breasts that
bounced with each step. Her skin was the same tinge as Death's. Her eyes were
as bright as a cat's in the night. Her tail lashed back and forth with the
clinks of her high heeled stilettos. In her hands, she was holding something
that looked to be a wooden prosthetic.
Had Ophelia not already felt as vulnerable as she did now, she would she have
noticed what it was.
"No!" Ophelia cried out, arching her back in the love-seat.
Her breasts jiggled with every frightened motion - much to the interest of
Lilith and her young servant.
"Precious, girl. You deserve something special to go in that slutty little
pussy of yours. How about this? Hmm? Know what it might be?" Lilith purred,
teasingly. 
Phoenix leaned over to Ophelia's breasts.
No, no don't." Ophelia whinned as the angel planted soft kisses on both of her
nipples until taking one into her mouth to suck and taste. Ophelia felt her
nipples become longer, harder.
"No, I don't like girls." Ophelia repeated once more. Her quim becoming hotter,
wetter. Why? She never liked girls.
"That's not what your pretty cunt is telling me. Phoenix, hold the little
princess still." Lilith ordered as she made her way towards Ophelia, her grip
firm on the wooden prosthetic.
"No, no! Nghhhh!" Ophelia moaned, incoherently. 
Lilith traced the wooden dildo over Ophelia's cunny. Ophelia felt tears well up
in her eyes. She turned away, unable to look at the monstrous thing touching
her vulnerable pussy. There was pain, yes. But at the same time, she felt
pleasure. With a smile, Lilith fit the wooden dildo inside Ophelia's tight hole
as Phoenix stimulated her nipples with her tongue. Ophelia's vagina tightened
from the intrusion of the object inside her.
"Mmm…Mmmm…. Jesus! No…" Ophelia cried out, arching her back in the curve of the
loveseat.
Her flesh becoming wetter and wetter with each thrust of the dildo. She felt
herself start to succumb to the lust the sinful object was fueling in her.
Phoenix released Ophelia's nipple and looked to her mistress who was tauntingly
thrusting the phallic toy in and out of Ophelia. Following were long,
translucent rivulets of Ophelia's cum. 
"Oh, Mistress... Please let me try! Her smell is enchanting. I must take over."
Phoenix pleaded.
"Very well. Then afterwards, I'll let you have a little taste." Lilith promised
as she lithely stepped out of the way to let her slave have a go.
Phoenix excitedly took the dildo and slowly - but forcefully, inserted the
phallus inside Ophelia until the wood became darker and wetter prompting
Ophelia to moan and writhe deliciously.
"Ah! Fuck…Ah! No, no, no! Mmm, yes! Fuck me… Fuck me more! Jesus, why does this
feel so good?" Ophelia babbled, feeling her pussy accept the toy worming deeper
inside her young, dripping hole. 
Ophelia watched as Phoenix plunged the dildo into her for the seventh time -
causing her to release with the toy still inside her. Phoenix slowly pulled it
out, causing Ophelia to moan an examined her love juices rolling down and
dripping slowly from the toy and on to her fingers. She curiously sniffed the
toy - grinning - and gave it a slow, suggestive lick.
"She's sweet, mistress. Like a candied apple." Phoenix moaned, divinely. 
With a wicked smile, she held her fingers out for Ophelia to taste. Lilith
watched the teen sniff her own love juices before taking her two fingers into
her slave's mouth and tasting herself. Lilith studied Ophelia's flushed cheeks,
her plump lips busily sucking her own wetness off her own pet's fingers,
listening to her sweet moans. A perfect little accessory to her slave
collection. A whore in training. And Ophelia was still a soft, little flower
who was just beginning to bud. Phoenix smiled and tossed the dildo to the side.
Unable to resist, she pounced on Ophelia.
Their legs intertwined together. Phoenix's cock rested against her thigh.
Ophelia could feel her warm pre-cum on her skin. Phoenix tore the robe straight
from the younger girl's body and groped her lovely breasts. Ophelia leaned back
into the loveseat as she felt Phoenix's lips press to hers. Their tongues
sucked each others, coating their chins in each others saliva. Some dripped
down to Ophelia's breasts. Ophelia could taste traces of her own pussy juice on
Phoenix's tongue. Ophelia, distracted by Phoenix's passionate kiss - yelped as
she felt the angel enter her without any warning. Instantly, Ophelia began to
buck her hips as the angel constricted and filled inside her.
I'm getting fucked by another girl! Her cock is inside me. Oh God, this girl's
cock is so good. Mmm, yes…
Ophelia stroked Phoenix's tattered wings - careful that she did not pull them
out due to the heat of the moment. Ophelia smiled as she heard her pussy
squelch wetly with Phoenix's long prick inside her. She could smell her own
musk fill chamber. The fallen angel's cock was so long, so warm, so, so good.
Phoenix released a little too early for Ophelia's likening.
"Phoenix! Yes, yes, yes! Phoenix fuck me! Fuck me!" Ophelia screamed, smiling
from the immense pleasure coursing through her young body. 
Still keeping inside her, Phoenix kept her one hand on Ophelia's breast while
trailing her free hand down to her clitoris that was already swollen and
engorged with blood. Phoenix thumbed it, and began rubbing it with her
fingernail - in small, circular movements.
"Oh Fuck! Fuck, I'll go crazy if you keep doing that…Yes! Cum inside me. Cum
inside my slutty little hole…Phoenix!" Chanted Ophelia, coquettishly.  
Ophelia was in so much pleasure she was drooling down her chin. Phoenix came
with a moan that twined with Ophelia's in the now warm chamber. Phoenix
released in her three more times before pulling out and splattering the rest of
what she had on to Ophelia's thighs as she lay back, exhausted and breathing
hard. Still, Ophelia wanted more.
"Please, give me more." She demanded softly, innocently.
"Such polite manners. Death has taught you well. You will make a perfect
succubus." Lilith purred. "Phoenix, turn her around."
With a yelp of surprise from Ophelia, Phoenix seized her by her thighs and set
her on her knees with her ass arched high in the air. Ophelia's slickness still
coated the dildo in a shiny gloss. Phoenix fit the prosthetic inside her until
only the tips of her fingers clutched the end of the wood. Ophelia had only
been penetrated in the ass by Death, once. Luckily for her, her warm sex juices
provided perfect lubricant.
"Mmm, no! Oh yes…. yes, Phoenix! Fuck my butt. Fill me up…. yes…." Ophelia
blushed as she moaned the words of her lust. 
"That's enough of that."
Lilith strode over to Ophelia and gently took the object from Phoenix's hand.
She grabbed the delirious teen by her shoulders and faced her, taking in the
sight of Ophelia's disheveled face before kissing her. The demoness tasted
sweet, yet deadly at the same time - like poison. Lilith sucked on Ophelia's
tongue until their saliva mingled together in a long, hot strand. Phoenix began
to stroke her rising cock as she watched the ladies kiss. Lilith groped
Ophelia's breasts and ceased the kiss to whisper into her ear - causing Ophelia
to become wetter and hotter.
"Touch me like you touch your pussy when you're alone." The demoness ordered
licking Ophelia's lobe.
Ophelia fingered the outline of Lilith's warm cunt through her fabric. She
could feel her wetness through the dress, reasoning that she wasn't wearing
panties. She loved hearing Lilith moan. Suddenly, she felt something smooth and
protruding tickle her thighs. It was her tail that crawled up her legs and
touched her clit.
"Lilith! Ahhh, my God! "
Lilith's tail entered her briskly. Ophelia could feel the appendage worm itself
deeper inside her. Phoenix took this opportunity to bend down and suck on
Ophelia's clitoris. Lilith watched with triumph. One taste, whether saliva or
sex juice - would forever bind Ophelia to her will. Ophelia came twice from
over-stimulation. Lilith watched her young breasts bounce as she took in more
of her tail and Phoenix's licks and sucks. Lilith pulled out of her with a
succulent squelch; grinning as she watched Ophelia's pussy juice roll down her
tail, and piercings. Without giving Ophelia the time to enjoy her afterglow,
Lilith fell to her knees and glared at her hot pink, wet pussy with intent.
I will make her mine!
Lilith seized Ophelia's constricting hole with her tongue. Phoenix was right.
She tasted of candied apples. Lilith's tongue delved all the way inside
Ophelia. One flick of her tongue to her rough little bundle was enough to send
Ophelia into ecstasy.
"Ahhhhh! Lilith!" Ophelia came all over Lilith's face coating her in her warm,
sweet juices.
Phoenix fell to her knees to lick the traces of her love juice off her
mistress's face.
Just then, the door was kicked in and all three females craned their heads with
a gasp to the inhuman figure standing in the doorway. Long, greasy black hair
cascaded down muscular cadaverous shoulders. Death was welcomed by the scent of
sex, sweat, and perfume from some exotic flower.
"What in the abyss have you done?" He spat at Lilith. Eyes widening with horror
and revulsion upon seeing his little slave with her legs spread open for his
mother and her sex pet.
Ophelia was at a loss for words. Her face flushed - not only from the
afterglow, but from the shame and embarrassment she felt from Death seeing her
in such a wild state that wasn't with him. Now what would become of her?
***** Poison *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia is returned to Vulgrim.
Death kept a tight grip on the squirming girl's waist. He had slung her over
his shoulder ignoring her screams, kicks, and the pounding blows of her balled
fists.
"Death! Death, I want to go back! Please…" Ophelia screamed like a little girl
throwing a tantrum.  
With one swift kick, their bedroom door swung off the hinges. Death angrily
walked inside and threw Ophelia on the bed. He had thrown his tattered, blood -
smelling cowl on her for warmth as he trudged up the many steps to the bedroom.
Now, he forcefully ripped it off her and climbed on her - straddling his hips
under hers. Much to her shock, he did not rape her. Instead, he grabbed her by
the hair and forced her to look at him.  
"What did that filthy harlot do to you? Why are your eyes so glazed? Tell me,
now!" Death growled at her.
Ophelia - through her tears - tried to speak.
"Her slave kidnapped me! I just went to go visit Nathan because you weren't
fucking here for me like you said you would be! Every night you said you would
be in here, but you weren't! I didn't want to be alone...I- I hate you!"
Ophelia raised her voice until it cracked.  
She felt rivulets of hot tears course down her cheeks. Her nose was running.
She didn't care. Death released his grip from her hair and let her fall back
into the pillows. He positioned himself so that he was sitting at the edge of
the bed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperatedly.
"What exactly did she do to you?" He asked calmer
"S-she t-tasted me, I kissed her…Her slave made love to me." Ophelia confessed.
 
Death grunted.  
"I thought I told you to stay put at all times when it's night. I feared this
would happen."  
Ophelia sat up and grabbed the covers, pulling them up to her chest.  
"Death, please don't be angry with me…I'm sorry."  
She placed a quivering hand on his muscular shoulder. Her warm touch sending
life through his body.
"Ophelia? Do you understand how truly precious you are?" Death slightly turned
his head to face her. 
 Her pretty, brown eyes were filled to the brim with tears, her face was tear-
stained, her hair was a mess of curls. Ophelia whimpered and let the blanket
fall from her naked body. She crawled over to Death and wrapped her little arms
around his waist.
“Death, what’s gonna happen to me?” She purred as she groped the now well-
pronounced bulge in his pants.
Death moaned. Still keeping her hand on his engorged manhood, she skulked to
the cool tiled floor and undid the bindings from his pants. She was welcomed by
Death's very swollen length in her face.
“Make yourself quiet. I have to think.” Death demanded, suggestively.
Very delicately, she placed his manhood in between her copious breasts and
proceeded to give it a squeeze while cupping them. Death smiled wickedly at her
and placed a skeletal hand on her head, tugging at her hair. She slowly brought
her lips up to the head to give it a little kiss before taking his whole cock
into her mouth. Death clutched on to the mattress and tilted his head back in
delight. He enjoyed the warmth and wet flesh of his little slave girl's mouth
and throat. Within three long sucks, Death came, spilling his seed into her
needy mouth.
Strands of her saliva, and his sickly chilled cum, dribbled down her chin and
breasts in thick, intertwining strands. Ophelia swallowed it all like a
delicious drink and looked up into his eyes, smiling through her dainty sucks.
"Oh Death, I missed you." Ophelia whined making her way back up to the bed.
She clutched to him like a scared child. She kissed his cadaverous neck and
collar bone. Death held her by the waist and took her left nipple into his
mouth. Ophelia leaned back and moaned as his bluish lips sucked her. Death
could feel her becoming hot and wet against his waist. He gave her a couple
more teasing sucks until she came just from the stimulation to her nipple.
Abruptly, Death flipped Ophelia over his knee until her face was pressed hard
against the mattress and her firm little ass stuck out. He held her wrists
behind her back. She didn't speak, only braced herself for the rain of spanks
against her reddening flesh. She shut her eyes and let her tears run down her
face in silent shame.
Only until after he was done did she whimper. Death set her back up to face
him, only she couldn't meet his gaze.
"Now, Ophelia. Do you know why I did that?" He asked gently, brushing a curl
away from her face.
Ophelia looked like a broken doll. She nodded twice, slowly.
"Good girl. Now you may bathe." Death said simply. Excusing her from the
humiliation.
 
Ophelia lay awake  that night in the darkness as Death slept beside her. She
couldn't sleep. The room was cold, and although she was wearing a cotton
nightdress, her body was hot. She crept her left hand up to her breast and
began to rub it softly. She whimpered and pulled her rose-colored nipple
through the material, smiling as she felt her cunny become wet through her
panties. She hadn't masturbated for a while, and she was beginning to miss her
own touch. She could wake up Death, but didn't want to rely on him for sex.
Ophelia cried out as she fingered her clitoris. The little bundle of nerves was
already as hard as a stone through her panties. She pinched and pulled on it
making it grow longer and more engorged until she couldn't take it anymore. She
discarded her wet panties and rolled to her stomach for a better angle. With
one hand under the pillow, she slipped her finger inside her and gasped at her
touch for the first time in months. Her cunt welcomed her fingers in a warm,
tight embrace. She moaned and writhed as she came twice - rocking her hips like
mad as they squirmed around inside her. Breathing hard and skin flushed, she
pulled out of her tight entrance with a succulent squelch and soft moans.
Rivulets of her cum ran down her fingers. Ophelia smiled coquettishly as she
lay on the bed to catch her breathe. She waited until she came down from her
orgasms to head to the bathroom and wash up.
Ophelia slept in that morning, causing Death to rouse her. After she dressed,
she went to go check on Nathan. Death had escorted her for a fear of his
mother's servants stalking the grounds. Upon seeing her, Nathan wagged his tail
and jumped on her showering her face in kisses. Ophelia giggled and wrestled
with him.
"Aww, I missed you too, boy." Ophelia murmured into his fur.
After their reunion, Ophelia gave him fresh water and dried meat from the
kitchen. She asked Death if she could walk him.
"Very well. Then I want you to wash up and check the wardrobe. I may have
bought something for you to wear as you slept."
"Of course, Death." Said Ophelia as she hurried off to fetch Nathan's collar
and leash.
Tucked into the very back of the wardrobe was a black corset dress with a
short, flounced hem. On the waist were pale, pink ribbons. Ophelia stared at it
for quite some time. It was rather out of her taste, but still, an act of
kindness from Death made her feel cherished.
"Lovely isn't it? Like you." Death appeared from behind her, making her jump.
"Yeah, it's beautiful. Thank you, Death."
She turned around and stood on her tiptoes to plant a small kiss on Death's
strong chest. She stepped out of her robe, giving Death a nice view of her
backside and slipped into the dress. Death laced the back up for her causing
her to straighten from the feel of his chilling fingers brushing against her
skin.
"There's somewhere I'd like to take you. When you're ready, you may come
downstairs into the foyer."
"Okay." Ophelia felt anxious.
He was never like this. Something inside her urged her to stay put, or at least
go to one of his siblings and speak to them about it. Yet she quickly went
against her better judgement and headed for the bathroom. She applied her
makeup and blood red lipstick that made her lips appeal plump and alluring,
then laced up her usual riding boots. The corset was awfully tight and exposed
her cleavage more so than she wanted. She reasoned that this was rather more of
a surprise rendezvous if anything. Her birthday was coming, but that wasn't for
another month. Besides, he didn't even know when her birthday was. Ophelia
tried her best to shake off the feeling of impending dread and hurriedly made
her way down the stairs.
"Death?" Ophelia called from the top of the steps.
Upon seeing her, he smiled so wide that it made Ophelia feel uncomfortable for
reasons she couldn't say.
"Where are we going?" Ophelia asked as Death helped her on Despair's saddle.
"The market." He replied as-a-matter-of-factly.
The sharpness in his voice, as if he had already planned this conversation, was
enough to hush Ophelia. Instead, she held on to his waist and didn't speak a
word until they arrived. The market -or the Goblin Market as Ophelia mentally
referred to it as - was filled with everything from clothes, jewels, slaves,
prostitutes, and more of Death's kind. Every one of them stared at her, but
dare not say a word. Some prostitutes glared at her in envy. Death dismounted
his stead. Dust - who had accompanied them - fluttered down from the branches
to rest on Despair's saddle. He preened absently at Despair's hanging flesh.
"Death, what are we doing here?" Ophelia tried again as Death helped her off
the saddle.
"I need to talk to Vulgrim. You're included which is why I brought you. I
expect you to listen and whatever the demon tells you to do, you do it."
"Death you're-? No, no please don't! I want to be with you! What about Nathan?
Nathan can't live without me."
Tears welled up in Ophelia's eyes. She clung to Death's arm with the mannerisms
of a child.
"Stop that. You'll ruin your makeup." Death snapped at her.
"Death, please why are you doing this?" 
In frustration, Death placed his hands on Ophelia's shoulders and pushed her
against the tree that Despair was saddled to.
"Listen to me. That whore Lilith did something to you. I can tell. You'll soon
crave more. By serving my brothers, you will carry out the after effects she
supplied to you in your body. You're still young, Ophelia. And my kind is
deprived. They will desire what you have. What your young body can give them.
You still have purity in you that needs to be cleansed. Only then will I reward
you with a higher rank. How would you like to be my little concubine?"
Ophelia, her eyes glossy with tears, could hardly speak.
"Concubine?" She felt lost. 
"If you do this for me, then yes. Prove how much you desire me. Prove to me
that Lilith has no effect on you. Please my brothers, and maybe when I return,
I will give you a higher status. Sound fair?"
"I suppose." Ophelia spoke softly. "But Death, I'm going to miss you."
Death cupped her soft face and gave her a kiss on the head.
"You've been a good little slave, Ophelia. Be a nice fuckable princess for me.
And when I return, I will give you the most lavish pleasantries any woman could
desire."
Ophelia nodded.
"Oh but what about Nathan? Who will watch him when I'm gone?"
"I'll let a servant tend to him. He'll be fine. Trust me. I know how much you
love the troublesome beast."
Death led her to the same post she had arrived to when she was first taken to
the realm. Sure enough, Vulgrim recognized her.
"Coming back for more, Princess?" Vulgrim snickered, twiddling his cadaverous
fingers.
Ophelia coward behind Death, glaring distrustfully at the demon.
"Precisely." Death gently lead Ophelia to the demon who's snaggled grin became
wider with every trembling step she took towards him.
 
The next morning, Vulgrim had beckoned Ophelia into his tent.
"Ophelia, come to me." He rasped, facing her as he spoke. 
Ophelia meekly approached him, playing with her hair. His grin was wider,
scarier. 
"Do you have any notion of what these could be?" Vulgrim questioned holding his
palms out. In them were two small, gold barbells.
Ophelia backed away with a gasp.  "Oh no...Vulgrim-" Ophelia's voice tremored.
 Vulgrim giggled and appeared from behind her.
"This will make the experience more...enjoyable". He cackled as he slipped his
hand around her waist.
He led her to a peeling wooden table near the foot of his bed and lay her on
her back on the surface of the table. His hand strayed to caress her smooth
thighs from under her dress before ripping the fabric at the bust with his
nails. He had to hold her wrists down to retrieve his needle. Once her breasts
jiggled in plain view, Vulgrim couldn't help but taste them. 
"Mmm! No, no..." Ophelia moaned, squirming as Vulgrim's slimy, black tongue
tasted each of her breasts, leaving a thick coat of his saliva on them. Ophelia
blushed like mad as he exposed her this way. Upon feeling the pinprick of the
needle, and crying out in both pleasure to his stimulation, and seeing the
strands of blood that ran down to her tummy, naval, and mons pubis- she
fainted.  She awoke later in the mid-afternoon completely naked in her bed.
When she tried to move, she cried out at the feel of her nipples brushing
against the course animal fur. Suddenly, she remembered what had happened. She
slowly pulled the covers off her to examine the steel-gold barbells firmly
implanted in her nipples. 
My God, he pierced me. They're so sensitive.  Ophelia mused as she admired his
skill-full craft.
Her new accessories certainly did both parties favors. As the Nephilim men
pumped every ounce of their warm gobs of hot seed inside her, her hands would
stray to her breasts where she would carefully finger her nipples making her
body more flushed, her eyes more lidded, and her clitoris harder than she could
ever imagine. Even though her new life had its perks, it was still hard on
Ophelia. After she was done taking Death’s brothers for the seventh time, she
would run off to the many trees surrounding the place and vomit. She would also
cry hysterically while scrubbing blood, cum, and urine out of the sheets she
was forced to change after every encounter. She had peed after a Nephilim had
fucked her twice. Hot, golden strands had ran down her legs and stained the
covers a bright yellow. But the Nephilim didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he
seemed to take an interest and spread his legs to suck on her. First her
clitoris, then her little, drenched hole. Although she enjoyed and hated the
fuckings all the same, it was always the same at night. Curled up in fetal
position on the filthy mattress, bawling. Vulgrim would scold her in the
morning for her cheeks being puffy, and she was getting tired having to charm
him just to get what she wanted.
He paid her in fruit. And as kind of a gesture as that might have seem, he
would also use it to her advantage. He would pick the ripest, sweetest berries
from his basket only to impale them on his long, charcoal-colored nails until
the juices would run down his fingers. He would make Ophelia lick them clean
before plucking the berries off with her lips and eat them like that.
Sometimes, if he was lucky, the juices would run down her strong chin and land
on her breasts in sticky droplets. Giving him access to lick them off her skin
and in between her heavy mounds. As much as Vulgrim loved souls, the taste of a
human female was much more enchanting.
Ophelia found herself wondering at night when she couldn’t sleep if Death would
approve of her nipple’s being pierced. He didn’t remember Vulgrim discussing
that with him when he handed her over. She hoped he wouldn’t hit her when he
discovered them. At nights like these, when Ophelia’s mind would stray to
Death, there was only one thing that could put her to sleep. Ophelia slowly
slid the blankets off of her and let the chill of the night air kiss her body.
She felt it tickle her cheeks, her tummy, her breasts, her clitoris. Her hands
would creep to the barbells implanted firmly into her sensitive nipples.
“Death, how would you feel? How would you feel seeing these in me?” She purred
as she fingered her hardened, perked flesh.
She continued her stimuli until she would cum, bucking her hips in the air as
if she was being fucked by an unseen lover. She would watch with a smile as hot
strands of her cum poured down her legs. Unable to take the torture, she would
slip her fingers inside her, getting them nice, slimy, and wet prompting her to
cum twice until her bladder became full and a stream of urine would follow with
her orgasm. Those were nice nights. She no longer thought about Strife. He
meant nothing to her. She slept with Death, she prepared his meals, she made
love to Death. She wanted Death. And she wanted to be his. Forever. 
I will see him soon. I will be his concubine.Ophelia mused to herself before
drifting off to sleep.
From the stained-glass window that overlooked his bed, Death pressed his hand
up to it and muttered to himself in demonic while staring thoughtfully into the
night sky.
"Multum concubinam."
***** Promise *****
Chapter Summary
     Ophelia gets a late birthday gift.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Ophelia stretched as she awoke with the sun beating down on her face from a
hole in the tent. Unknowingly to her, today was her eighteenth birthday.
September 7th. The leaves were the color of apple cider. They fell sadly to the
ground and covered her tent. She had lost her perception of time with all the
whoring she had been doing lately. Ophelia looked around as if trying to
remember something important. Reasoning that it was just because of her
sleepiness, she shook it off as nothing.
 
Ophelia had a quick bath in the paint-chipped porcelain tub, dressed in the
corset dress Death had gave her, and headed to the market to purchase jewels or
whatever caught her interest. Her currency was whatever the demons commanded
her to do. Most of the time it was a blowjob. If she was lucky, it would be a
handjob. The feeling of sucking down another Nephilim man’s seed still didn’t
sit right with her.
 
Ophelia was just settling on purchasing a beautiful bejeweled choker when
something else caught her attention. On the auction stand were two little girls
no more than four years old bound together by the wrists. They looked to be a
hybrid between Nephilim and Human. Their hair was as black as Death’s. Their
skin like clay with a blue tinge. They were clothed in matching cream-colored
gowns. The exact ones Ophelia wore upon her first arrival. Their little eyes -
as blue as the Caribbean sea - darted back and forth with fear. The one on the
left had her head rested on her presumed sister’s shoulder. It was clear to
Ophelia, even from so far away, that they were both crying. Ophelia couldn’t
stop staring at them. They were so young and so, so frightened. Then, all four
eyes were upon her as if pleading for help. For the briefest moment, Ophelia
saw herself in them.
 
“Those children. Why are they up there?” Ophelia addressed the demon behind the
counter.
 
The demon with a crown of horns upon his head, shrugged.
 
“Perhaps their parents died. Perhaps they're strays. Either way, are you going
to purchase that or what, Miss? If so, you know what you have to do for me.”
The demon flashed his stained, sharp teeth at her. Ophelia placed the choker
down and ran over to Vulgrim who was busy chatting to a Nephilim man in blood-
stained armor.
 
“Vulgrim!” Ophelia interrupted.
 
The bloody armored demon glared at her plump ass as she ran past him. Ophelia
seized Vulgrim by the arm, paying the other no mind.
 
“Excuse me for one moment,” Vulgrim said with false-charm in his voice - “What
do you want? Can’t you see I’m dealing with this gentleman?”
 
“Vulgrim, do you know anything about the children being auctioned?” Ophelia
inquired.
 
“Most children brought to this realm are either sold into training to be
Nephilim soldiers. Others - depending on their status, gender, or age - are
sold to nunneries.” Vulgrim said, gruffly.
 
“No.” Ophelia sank to her knees, helplessly. 
 
Oh those poor little things.
 
“Now that I’ve informed you, go away unless I need you.” Vulgrim snapped at her
to continue with his beguile.
 
Ophelia wanted to kill him there and then. But had to, of course, restrain
herself. Her head spun, and her tummy was in knots. Just as she was about to
head to her tent to lie down, the blood-stained Nephilim pinched her ass.
 
“Vulgrim, how much for this little whore?”
 
 
Ophelia lay back in her bed crying. The moon shone down upon her, bright and
full as if trying to comfort her. She thought of the little girl’s. She
wondered where they could be and imagined that they were just as scared as she
was. Her mind wondered to where their parents could be and if they were missing
them too. Somehow, those thoughts drifted her off to sleep. 
 
Another day came and Ophelia once more rose from the warmth of her bed.
 
”Opheeeliaaa,” Vulgrim sang from outside her tent.
 
Ophelia grabbed the covers and pulled them up to her chest.
 
“Ophelia, I have a surprise for you. Come here.” Vulgrim beckoned.
 
Ophelia obediently stepped out of bed, still in her nightgown, and headed
towards his shadow.
 
Ophelia peered outside and was met by four curious eyes. Orange sclera with
bright yellow pupils, iris’s the color of the sea. The two little girls from
the auction stand. No longer bound by the wrists, they clung to each others
hands as if they feared they would be torn apart. Now close enough to get a
good look at them, Ophelia could clearly see the mixture of Nephilim and Human.
They both shared resemblance to Death and Lilith as well. On their chest and
collarbone were black freckles dotted along their skin. Scrapes and bruises
covered their little knees like battle-scars. Ophelia wondered who or what
could have done this to them. 
 
“They handed these ragamuffins to me. Since you are the last human female, they
decided that they can learn from you.” Vulgrim giggled. 
 
The little girl’s shifted nervously. The one on the right glared up at the
merchant. Then to his hands which were firmly planted on each of the girl’s
shoulders.
 
Ophelia quickly took them from Vulgrim and shepherded them into the tent.
 
Once she was sure Vulgrim was out of earshot, Ophelia knelt down to their eye-
line and tried speaking to them.
 
“You don’t know how happy I am now that you’re here with me.” She confessed
feeling herself about to cry. Her voice hushed just in case. 
 
The little girls stared at her, taking in what she was saying. They were too
frightened to speak. The one on the left was sucking her fingers.
 
Ophelia paused momentarily to wipe her eyes.
 
God, Creator, whoever is up there. Thank you. Thank you for bringing these
children to me. My little saviors.
 
“I’m Ophelia. What are your names?”
 
The one on the right, the boldest of the pair - spoke first. Softly.
 
“Evanescence. And this is Teagan.” She said turning her head to the one sucking
her fingers. Teagan paused momentarily to stare into Ophelia’s eyes
thoughtfully.
 
“Are you our new mama?” She asked Ophelia, solemnly.
 
Ophelia felt the tears return. She thought of Claudia. She thought of how happy
she was when she had felt her kick for the first time. These children were
alone - like herself - they were stuck in a strange world and needed
protection.
 
“Yes.” Ophelia said, allowing the tears to stain her cheeks. “Come here,
babies.”
 
Unexpectedly, Ophelia pulled the children into a tight embrace They held on to
each other for quite some time. All of them in an orphan sandwich, crying on to
one another's shoulders. 
 
“I’m going to make sure no one lays a fucking hand on either of you.”
 
Ophelia vowed as she hugged them closer.
Chapter End Notes
     End of part 1. Soooo, what did you all think? I'd love to hear
     feedback! This was my very first erotica and I have to say that I'm
     very proud at how it turned out. I'm usually not one to do original
     characters, but with Darksiders I simply couldn't resist.
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