Date: 5/5/99

third in the 'retraining of
lucifer' series. for previous parts, visit:

Disclaimer: *hell* no, i don't own'em!

Warnings: canon? what canon? here be a/u. blasphemy. explicit
satan/god. physical and metaphysical bdsm.


 blind faith
by kai

"Open your eyes and look at me, Morning Star."

A stinging slap across my face accompanied his cold demand. Flat on my
back, bound hand and foot to the rickety bed frame, I forced my eyes
open and stared up at him. Fully clothed, he straddled my naked hips
and fastened two bright clips on my nipples. I gasped as the cold
metal pinched.

"Remember where you are!"

Hot breath caressed my lips, his sensual mouth inches from my own.

"Remember who I am!"

And my eyes watered from the force of his second slap.

Anger and pain forced my attention back to the present, away from the
seductive call of passionate ancient imagery and sensation: His
Essence commingled with mine, the sweet music, the echo of our shared
cries against the vault of heaven.


Before the Fall...

Side by side, we walked through the lush garden. The original, albeit
metaphorical, Forest Primeval. An oasis of green in the seething,
lightning-struck caldron that was Earth in those days. After a lengthy
absence from heaven, He'd finally brought me here to show off His
latest creations. I'd heard of His plans, but had yet to see their
actual rendering.

"So, Luciel. What do you think?" His sweeping gesture included the
deep green grasses, bright flowers and the glittering stream that wove
between the trunks of fruit-heavy trees.

The surging tide of his voice, its undercurrent dark with barely
restrained power shivered through me; warned me that, regardless of my
true opinion, I'd be wise to answer to His satisfaction.

"Beautiful," I murmured, relieved that I was honestly enjoying the
rich scents and vistas offered by His garden paradise. The mellow hum
of bees and locusts blended with the fragrance of flowers and
vegetation, creating an atmosphere of ripe expectancy.

Kneeling beneath an enormous oak, He tickled a fat red squirrel under
its chin, "Did you notice the beasts?"

I nodded, "I did, indeed. Magnificent." And so they were: graceful
deer and elk, proud wolves and tigers, aloof eagles and hawks.

"I call it Eden." He smiled and the glow of His satisfaction warmed me
vicariously, intimately with its flames. How I had missed His
capricious smile, the uneasy fire of His company.

"Look here, Luciel. Come see what else I have made!"

And for hours, He dragged me through the forest, eagerly pointing out
the stunning variety of plants and wildlife. The sun had long since
passed midday and slipped towards the horizon by the time He drew me
into a small glade and proudly showed me His final creation.

Puzzled, I stared at the slack-jawed, bipedal creatures. Although
physically, they bore a superficial resemblance to Him, my brothers
and me, quite honestly I'd found the wolves and deer to be more
aesthetically pleasing.

Unthinkingly, I blurted, "They appear to be nothing more than beasts!"
Exquisitely wrought, true, but beasts none the less. I braced for his

"For now, perhaps." His look was darkly reproachful. "But I plan to
give them souls."

I blinked. Surprised. Outraged. And frightened. "Souls?" He thought to
create them in our image?

"Yes souls!" His greater Voice was distant thunder, shaking leaves and
fruit from the nearby trees. Standing at dusk, looking at these
creatures, imagining them with souls, I felt a sudden premonitory,
cold dread.

And I couldn't help my protest, my outrage, "But - "

"- But, of course, none of that is none your concern, Luciel," He
completed my sentence dismissively, with deliberate cruelty. Grabbing
my chin, He forced me to meet His eyes. "I brought you here merely as
a courtesy. Nothing more."

Nothing more. No. I suppose it wasn't my concern, but it hurt all the
same. First-born and First-loved, I deserved better than His casual
indifference. Anger and jealousy spiked my belly. I thought I kept it
from my face.

He saw it anyway, of course.

The grip on my chin slipped down my throat and tightened
painfully. Rough bark scratched between my shoulder blades, along the
ridges of my wings, forcing them apart as he slammed me against a
towering redwood. Pain flashed as the delicate bones crunched.

"I see you need a reminder of your proper place in the order of the
universe, Luciel." His tone was thoughtful. Amused. Implacable.

I thrilled - with pain, fear and excitement - to the threat in His
Voice. Underneath it all was petty triumph: Ignore me, would He? I
think not.

Upon entering the Garden, we'd each condensed, solidified to avoid
disturbing the Earth with the force of our spirits'
vibration. However, in the face of His anger and amusement, His dark
lust, an icy fear, bitter arousal and sharp anticipation rippled
through me, shredding my control. And suddenly, I could feel the
raging chaos of the Void ripping the skin from my limbs, dissolving my
borrowed bones, unsinging my physical cohesion.

Beneath our feet, the earth buckled and tilted, tree roots ripping
free like writhing serpents. The mindless Humans in the clearing
howled in fear. I would have as well, could I have drawn breath to do

His Voice was flat and harsh, "Cease this!" But my control was in

He seized me then, ruthlessly, brutally resheathing me in physicality.
A single sharp Word and I was bound, enraged and helpless. Hideous
memory flared and I recalled the last time I'd been bound into Form
like this: grounded like a wing-clipped hawk; a wolf caught in a trap,
willing to gnaw off its leg to escape. He'd trapped me in flesh on a
disintegrating island on a far-flung planet. The molten lava had
burned the flesh from my bones, smothered my anguished screams in
flames. Burning, always burning.

"Please - " I rasped, Voice thin and shaking. Those memories were
still too close, too vivid. Perhaps I had pushed Him too far. His
Presence flared brilliantly, blindingly, and I could no longer look at
Him or discern His features.

"Please what, Luciel?" The scent of crushed grass and fertile loam
filled my nostrils he threw me face first to the torn earth, knee
resting in the small of my back. My body's erect cock was pressed hard
into the earth and I moaned, pain and pleasure combined.

The flaming ends of His hair lashed my face as He bent close to
whisper. "'Please stop'? Or 'Please don't stop'?" I was seared by His
acid sarcasm.

My breath caught as He flipped my to my back and I stared at his cold,
set expression. The pain of my bent, broken wing was nauseating.

"Spread your legs!"

The world stilled, birds and insects falling silent, and my raging
anger was extinguished by the force of His command, to be replaced by
escalating terror and unwilling arousal.

Another sharp Word and the ground shuddered, groaning. Quiescent tree
roots rose from the earth, like kraken, and wrapped around my widely
splayed limbs.

"You serve me, Luciel!"

Though I was bound to Form, He was not, and fierce, demanding tendrils
of Spirit dove beneath my shivering skin, raked along my bones,
clenched my faltering heart in an ectoplasmic fist.

"Remember that!"

"Yes, Master!" Gasping for breath, mouth filled with dirt and grass
and debris, I yielded. "I will remember!"

"See that you do, Luciel," His seeking fingers traced an internal path
up my spine, painting each vertebra with searing heat, painfully
mending and unmending the fractured bones and torn tissues. "Despite
your woeful lack of discipline, you do appear to have *some* common

And then, with only the flash of His eyes as warning, His unrelenting
Force pierced me, forced me open, body and soul - hideously intimate and
unbearably pleasurable. Made me ready to receive Him.

Eyes watering, body shaking with need and fear, I screamed as He knelt
and thrust His flaming sword between my legs, pressing my will, my
very self aside. Dominating me so exquisitely, so thoroughly, an agony
and ecstasy combined; hellish pleasure and divine pain. His joyous,
darkly satisfied Voice echoed off the vault of the heavens, shredding
the clouds.

Lightning and venomous thunder rolled over us and through the garden
then, shaking the flowering trees and showering our thrashing limbs
with fragrant blossoms. And at the edge of the glade, the naked,
foolish Humans crouched in the undergrowth, witness to my abject,
willing humiliation.

Once, He'd been gentle. Or at least pretended to be. And once, long
ago, I'd been more than a servant, a slave. Once.

But now, painfully flayed and trembling, bound in the grass in His
garden, pierced and bleeding, torn by His passion yet sheltered by His
overwhelming Presence, I didn't care.

I could bear His wrath, but not His indifference.


My fingers and palms burned, then went numb as Ezekiel leaned heavily
upon my wrists, bending close to whisper fiercely in my ear.

"Focus, Morning Star!"

Anger and pain forced my attention back to the present, away from the
seductive call of passionate ancient imagery and sensation. The
Garden's thick jungle air yielded to dry, stale Southern Californian
smog. Freshly turned earth shifted to a too-soft mattress. The sharp
tang of ozone from primeval lightning became faint cigarette smoke,
permeating the carpets, the drapes, the ratty bedspread. And rough,
twisted tree roots uncrooked to become padded leather and metal cuffs.

Licking dry lips, I struggled to focus on his hands, his voice. It was
through distraction and lack of discipline that I found myself here at
all. If I hadn't come to taunt and punish him after his latest,
inconvenient display of compassion for one of my fugitives... If I
hadn't carefully, ruthlessly pushed him beyond reason with viscous
innuendo about his beloved widow... If only.

Inciting to riot is a specialty of mine, though I have no excuse this
time, except that over the millennia, fear and bitterness have become
very old friends.

Ezekiel leaned back, sliding down my body between my spread legs, then
jerked the chain on the nipple clamps sharply. Had the slack in my
bonds had allowed it, I would have writhed uncontrollably. He seemed
just as satisfied with my involuntary hoarse shout.

"Here, you belong to *me*, not to *Him*! A hand slipped beneath me,
curved around my ass cheek and patted once, suggestively. Twice,
threateningly. "Need I remind you?"

I retained enough presence of mind to shake my head firmly, "No!" I
would not be humiliated, reduced to tears again by the paltry
discipline of his naked hand.

The bed shifted as he moved away and I stared at the ceiling, at the
room's far corner, clinging desperately to my human form. Trying not
to imagine the meaning of the sounds he made rummaging in the bedside
drawer, the dry whisper of cloth against flesh. Pretending that I
didn't know what would come next. I would not humiliate myself further
by losing control.

Face turned to the side, I sensed his return to the bed. And then I
screamed aloud, helplessly, hopelessly, as his hands stroked my sweaty
flesh; as strong, knowing fingers pulled on my erect cock roughly,
probed my tight, dry anus, ruthlessly.

"Open yourself to me!"

His sharp words cut, even as his fingers twisted deep, opening,
stretching, preparing me. Turning to look at his cold, set face, I lay
trembling, awash in a nauseating tide of violent lust, submission,
rage and bitter disappointment.

I'd always known that it would come to this, that he would one day
forcibly take me, in fury. Coercive and cruel. A combination I'd known
intimately before.

I push too hard; I always have.

Ezekiel's indifferent expression didn't waver, but he paused, as if
he'd heard my thoughts, fingers stilling inside me. "Have a little
faith, Luciel. Trust me." The loving undercurrent in his rough,
raw-silk voice confused and surprised me, loosened the aching knot
that lay beneath my breast bone.

Faith. Indeed. Something I lost long ago in the fresh dirt of the
Garden, on the shores of a newly born Earth.

"Close your eyes."

And my eyes closed. Why, I don't fully understand. Perhaps it was just
easy to give him what he asked for. My Ezekiel. A passionate, loving
man who'd made the eternally fatal error of not 'leaving vengeance to
the Lord'. Or perhaps it was bitter resignation, a yielding to the
inevitability of violence. Perhaps it was just a stubborn refusal to
admit, to show that he'd broken me, broken my faith. That this love
was as hopeless as the One before it.

Blind, trembling, my fists clenched as I felt him shift over
me. Making ready to thrust into my tight, dry ass, no doubt.

"Faith, Morning Star..."

His soft lips brushed against mine then and found myself unexpectedly
sinking into tight, slick heat. My eyes flashed open and I gasped
breathlessly. Above me, naked, eyes dark with lust, sunlight
burnishing the ends of his hair, Ezekiel lowered himself onto my cock.

"Oh!" I cried softly in surprise as he rocked slowly down my rigid
length, settling in the cradle of my hips, taking me deep.

"Mmmm." His hum was pure smug satisfaction, though I was far too
stunned and pleased to be irritated. He flexed internal muscles around
me and sensual flames streamed down my cock and into my belly. Pausing
to coil around my tailbone, they spiraled up my spine to the crown of
my head, incinerating all rational thought.

"Ezekiel. Please release me," I moaned, aching to pull him down to me,
to hold him, to ravage his mouth with kisses.

"No, Luciel," His smile was deliciously wicked. "Lie there and take
it." A tug on the nipple clamps ripped a hoarse shout from my throat.

Unbidden, my eyes closed tight against the wanton image he presented:
lips swollen, sandy hair disheveled, lust-darkened eyes gleaming, cock
drooling wet upon my belly. I struggled helplessly against my bonds,
desperate to move deeper into his tight heat.

"Be still," he commanded. I shook with the effort to comply.

And then, he leaned forward, capturing my lips with his, plunged his
slick tongue deep and slowly fucked himself on my cock.

With my eyes closed, every other sense came vividly alive. His lush
moans and sighs. The tight, slick heat of my cock in his ass, the
slide of his sweaty skin against mine. The fierce press of his weight
across my hips and on my shoulders where his fingers clenched tightly,
leaving bruises. His lingering taste on my ravaged lips and tongue.

Each new sensation teased the scarlet flames of my arousal
higher. Until I arrived at the pinnacle, orgasm's precipice,
struggling not to fall, not to disappoint him with my permaturely
spent lust.

"Let go, Luciel," his whisper was tender, soft. "Come for me."

His cry mingled with my own as I released deep into him, filling him
with my passion. And the warmth of his own slicked my belly, claiming


Late afternoon sunlight streamed though the open window and I could
hear the sound of cars and pedestrians on the street below. There were
many things I needed to attend to: sinners to torment, would-be
sinners to whom to give a little *push* in the right
direction. Instead, I lay here in this dingy room, neglecting my
duties, shamelessly enjoying the sunlight and his company.

How did he always know what to say, to do? How did he unfailingly
manage to rip the truth from eyes, my voice, my passion? How did he
know I expected his violence, his indifference, his rage. I thought I
had better control than that.

I could have taken the answer from his mind, but for some reason, I
chose to ask instead. "How did you know?"

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "You chose me because of my
skills, Morning Star." His chuckle rumbled beneath my ear. "I've spent
years reading people, reading between the lines. Yours are old, but
still readable."

Arrogant bastard.

"Trust me," he said, absently soothing my annoyance with finger tips
across my still-sensitive nipples. "Everything will be just fine," he
continued conversationally, "after I break you of the bad habits
you've developed over the years. Millennia. Whatever."

Outrage warred with lassitude over his casual claim. "Just remember,
Ezekiel," I reminded him darkly. "You work for me!" The statement
would have been more impressive, convincing had my passion-roughened
voice not broken on his name. Had I not been curled limply in his
embrace, the runes on his shoulder hot against my cheek.

"*You* may own my soul, Morning Star, but *I* own your heart." His
dark words, whispered fiercely, wet and warm, past my ear were at odds
with the gentle fingers threaded through my hair, the sweet kiss upon
my cheek. "Now close your eyes. And shut up."

Sometimes, the depth to which he understands me leaves me breathless.

A worthy adversary and lover, indeed.

And lying in the sunlight scattered upon the bed, held in his arms, I
closed my eyes and acknowledged his victory. And my own.




Return to story index

comments to: boyd