Content warning: This chapter is story focused and contains elements of sadomasochism, but no sex.

After the shock of the moment, Laurelai relented and let the mage perform a number of tests on her body. He used everything from pendulums to potions in an effort to determine more about the nature of her impossible pregnancy, and while he did that, Laurelai told him her tale. She told him that she’d been forced to become a woman thanks to the efforts of a particularly cruel demon lord, and that he’d intended for her to become his own private womb to breed an army of monsters. She thought his touches lingered a bit longer than necessary on her naked body, but she wasn’t about to stop him, as she doubted she could find someone else that had the knowledge or willingness to help a fallen creature like her.

The warlock only tut tutted that, explaining over and over again just how impossible it was. “Even if you put tits and and a womb on an angel, they lack the access to the creative forces that mortals have to reproduce he lectured her. “The demons aren’t much better. They are a sort of false life that can reproduce in the pit when left alone, but that could never work in the light of creation, or they would have taken over the whole world by now.”

“But the Nephilim,” Laurelai protested. 

“The Nephilim?” he asked mockingly. “Those abominations were created in human wombs, using human fertility. Demons can and have done much the same thing, but angel? No. Over the centuries many angels have fallen prey to the succubi, and while they are hardly the most dangerous demon, they’ve certainly claimed the most angels.”

“That’s true,” Laurelai agreed, “But—”

“But nothing. Don’t you think that you and the rest of the heavenly chorus would have heard about it if even one or two of those couplings had resulted in some terrible new kind of nephilim?” For once Archmagus Starken stopped staring at her tits long enough to look deep into her eyes, as he dared her to disagree with her. 

“That makes sense but it hardly seems conclusive,” Laurelai said, but she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of much anymore. She was still overwhelmed with the idea that she was going to be a mother unless she could find a way to stop the growth of the abomination inside her. 

“Conclusive she says!” Starken threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “Listen little miss angel. I’ve been studying the mysteries of angels and demons longer than almost anyone else you’re likely to find. I doubt even an actual angel knows as much as I do, though a devil or two might.”

“If you know so much and have been studying for so long than why hasn’t the host found you and smote you to dust already?” she asked, wishing that someone had. She could feel the evil clinging to him like a second skin. He might seem harmless - like he wasn’t much more than a half crazed old man, but he’d done some terrible things to become that way, and if it was this obvious to her, through her own miasma, than heaven should have long ago dispatched him. 

“Heaven cannot see when its eyes are blinded,” he said cryptically, obviously enjoying the fact that he had one more secret over her.  

“Ah,” she said, nodding. Blinding. That made sense. “The runes of Damte - that makes sense. As long as you don’t leave this tower and your villainies don’t end up in the prayers of too many people, I imagine that it would take them a good, long time to find you.” 

“What? You know about the blinding runes, but still doubt my expertise in demonic breeding?” He huffed and walked away. “You should go to bed. There is a room you can use upstairs, but leave the tower to stretch your wings at your peril. The second heaven sees the abomination inside of you; they will strike you down.” 

“But we still have more to do,” Laurelai whined. “I need answers. I need—” 

“You need to sleep. I have all the data I can glean from you now. Let me attend to my business with the hellhound, and in the morning I will try to have some answers for you.” Laurelai opened her mouth to disagree, but he just glared at her instead. 

“Fine,” she sighed, “but I need your word that you won’t try anything funny with me while I rest under this roof.” 

“You have my word that you are far more interesting as a test subject and a source of mystery than you are as a sex object,” he answered, dodging the question. 

It wasn’t much of an assurance, but Laurelai took it. She had to, because the man was right. She was beyond exhausted, and even if the light and the warmth of creation nourished her, she still needed to rest. 

She trudged upstairs and found a number of doorless cells with pallets, none of which were occupied. She chose the first one and covered herself with a ragged blanket. She didn’t even have time to worry about what the warlock might do to her, because she was out almost immediately. She slept deeply but with dreams that were haunted by a darkness slowly growing inside of her, like a cancer that grew and spread until there was nothing left of her. 

When she woke it was to the dawn, and besides being covered in sweat she was otherwise none the worse for the wear.  On a peg in her cell she saw a robe. She didn’t recall it hanging there the night before, but she also couldn’t remember that space being vacant. Not that it mattered, because as she tried to put it on, she quickly realized it would do very little to cover her nakedness. It was only long enough to fall to her mid-thighs, and between her breasts and her wings it was barely wide enough to wrap around her, and showed an excessive amount of cleavage. 

That was fine. She’d grown so used to being forced to parade around naked that even this much coverage was a luxury. She searched the floor she was on as well as the laboratory, but the warlock was nowhere to be found. She did notice that the hellhound’s circle was empty, so it was either lurking in the shadows on its way to complete its dark mission, or it had accomplished it already and had gone back to hell. Laurelai was happy either way. The thought of that mongrel made her sick, and if she ever saw it again it would be too soon. Eventually she just found a window that had the best view of the rising sun and then leaned back to enjoy its rays.

It was a luxury she had gone too long without, and she was grateful to have the chance to enjoy it again. Hours later, the mage finally showed up, carrying a number of strange pieces of jewelry, and a whip. 

“The bad news is that there is nothing that can be done to stop the child’s birth, short of your death,” he said with a note of glee in his voice. “Not that I would want to, you understand. This is a magical miracle, and I want to see it come to fruition.” 

“But you said—” Laurelai protested

“But I did agree to help you, so after some research that kept me up half the night… you’re welcome by the way, I think I found a way to slow the day of reckoning so to speak.” The warlock grinned wickedly in a way that she didn’t like at all. “Pain.” 

“Pain?” Laurelai pulled back slightly. 

“Well, pleasure or pain,” the Warlock corrected himself. “Either will off a great deal of magical energy, and the child that grows inside you is devouring that at a prodigious rate, so if we can capture that energy and drain you of as much of your essence as possible, then we can slow its growth, or maybe even reverse it.” 

“But not reverse it to nothing,” she demanded, trying to find a way she could be free of this burden. 

“That is highly doubtful. The impossibility of this pregnancy alone reeks of dark magic or a manipulation of fate itself.” The warlock laughed maniacally then, loud enough for her to worry that he truly had gone insane. “But we can certainly try. You’re the one who will suffer for it, not me.”  

After that was decided, she asked him to explain all the items he’d brought with him. The whip was apparently just a torture device. It was straight forward and enhanced the pain it might have normally provided from two to tenfold. He was very experienced in its use. The other items were more exotic though. The crown, he assured her, was the important part. Gems could be fitted into the center socket, and then used to drain away all the excess magical energy that flowed out of her during the ritual. They could be replaced as necessary. When he started to explain the magical manacles, though, she put her foot down. There was no way that she would let an evil bastard like him restrain her. The Goddess only knew what he would do. Just thinking about it gave her flashbacks to Lord Bel’s pleasure garden. 

“Fine,” he sneered, disappointed that she’d foiled some scheme or another, “But you have to try not to squirm too much, and I get to keep all the mana we drain from you. Heavenly essence like yours is hard to come by.” 

Laurelai could live with that, and after a few more minutes of discussion, she shed her robe. Feeling only a few pangs of self consciousness and being once again exposed to this man’s lecherous gaze, she donned his silver tiara and then spread bother her wings and legs wide and leaned against the wall. 

“When did you want to st- Ahhhh…” she cried out as the first lash fell on her sensitive skin, sending pain shooting through her body. The pain was different than normal. It was sharper, like it was cutting right through her flesh to her very soul. With a grunt, she clenched her jaw and managed to stay silent as the next several blows rained down upon her. 

“That was the lowest setting,” the mage said casually between lashes, “But I can see that the sapphire isn’t filling up quite as quickly as I’d hoped, so I think we’ll just see how much you can take.” A shiver of fear ran up Laurelai’s spine at that comment, but she was determined not to let it show. 

The mage wasn’t bluffing, either. Despite the fact that she braced herself for what was coming, the next blow felt like a line of fire licking against her skin. She grunted in pain, but stayed standing as quietly as she could. She was just beginning to discover the flaw in this plan - it was turning her on. Not badly yet. Not enough to make her crest glow or her knees go weak, but she could feel the tingling starting in the depths of her sex all the same as lash after painful lash striped her back. 

Soon she was panting. They both were. The mage was out of breath from the effort because he wasn’t in the best of shape, but Laurelai was quivering with need as she fought against the urge to reach down and play with her clit while he beat her. The pain wasn’t hard to endure now. Not in the way it should be. It had crossed that strange, malleable threshold that existed between extreme pleasure and extreme pain, and now each blow made her nipples ache as she tried no to gasp in pleasure. 

When Laurelai could take no more, she yelled, “Stop - please. I need a moment.” 

“Oh, does it hurt too much?” The mage asked, “I thought angels were made of sterner stuff. We’ve only gotten to half power.” 

“No,” Laurelai said, panting, “It’s not that. I can take it - I just…” She turned and looked over her shoulder at him, pouting the tiniest bit without meaning to. He was still the same aging ugly bastard he’d been all along, but she could feel his arousal, and it was drawing her to him like a moth to the flame. 

“I need you to fuck me,” she pleaded. 

“But filling you full of human seed would undo much of the work we just did. I’d have to beat you all over again after I was done.” he sneered. “The creative energies alone would—” The mage might be protesting, but she could see the bulge in his robes. She knew he would give her what she craved. 

“Please,” she said. “Please keep beating me until I can’t fucking stand it anymore, but only after you make me cum.”