Page 14 of The Devil You Know

“I take being humiliated very personally.”

“What a coincidence, so do I,” Michael said, but by the heat in his gaze I could tell he was thinking about an entirely different form of humiliation than I was.

“Hot springs. Now.”

By the time we reached the warm water between the rocks I was pretty sure I knew what Michael wanted. The whole way there he was a brat; mouthing off at me, goading me, doing his damnedest to piss me off. My smirk grew wider with every attempt.

“Strip,” I said and, when he opened his mouth to add more fuel to the fire, I grabbed his hair, pulling his head back harshly. “Strip,” I repeated and this time he understood there was no need to goad me anymore.

I was ready to take him over my knee.

He shucked all of his clothes eagerly and stood in front of me proudly naked, no longer hiding behind the unneeded human modesty. What was seeing his cock compared to feeling the energy of his true form those eons past?

“How are you going to catch me if you can’t even catch a fox?” Michael taunted.

“The difference between the fox and you is that you are trained. Aren’t you?” I said, sitting on one of the boulders. “I don’t need to catch you because I have already caught you. Come here, pet.”

I patted my knees and watched how Michael warred with himself, not wanting to give in too easily but craving what I was offering so, so much.

In the end he stepped forward and I put him into position, splayed over my knees with his ass in the air, easily.

“As a responsible pet owner I need to instill discipline in you. I’m correcting your behavior for your own good. Can you tell me what you did wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael responded brattily, squirming in anticipation.

“Yes, that. All that loud barking you did is exactly the problem. You were making a nuisance of yourself for the whole trip here. And if you want to be loud so much... I will make you loud.”

“Ah!” the first slap was met with a cry of surprise.

The second with a moan.

Michael’s skin wasn’t as ghostly white as my own, but his ass was still light enough for my first hard slap to leave a red imprint.

With that kind of canvas I can be a painter, I thought to myself. A brush of my fingers and my angel is a work of art.

I dedicated myself to turning Michael’s bottom a fetching shade of pink as the angel gasped and moaned for more.

“Hmm, I thought you were a dog with all that barking, but now I see I had been wrong. You are a cat, aren’t you? Just trying to swap me with your claws to get attention? Bad kitty. I think you should meow for me.”

“What?! I’m n-not doing that!” Michael spluttered.

I delivered a series of hard slaps, making the angel cry out and then curl in on himself. He was biting his lip and panting heavily through his nose while I dug my fingernails into the sensitive skin, creating sparks of pain that were impossible to ignore.

“Meow for me,” I said in a low tone, the one that signaled danger to everyone who knew me. “Or I will stop.”

Michael shuddered.

I kept my hand on his ass but didn’t do anything else. It was my lover who pushed against my palm, hissing at the sensation yet seeking it out again, and again. I knew he wanted more. This was just a waiting game. ‘I can resist anything but temptation’, a human author, Oscar Wilde, once said, and the angel was a perfect illustration of this phrase, as he hid his face in his shaking hands.

“M-meow.”

It sounded like a whimper. Like it was a shameful secret pulled from the very depths of Michael’s soul. In that moment, I wanted to take him apart, peer inside of him, uncover every kink he didn’t dare tell me about. Or maybe the angel didn’t even know himself that he would enjoy pet play? I wished dearly for the conveniences of the modern world right now. How I wanted to see Michael decked out properly – a pair of cute cat ears on his head and a plug with a tail shoved deep into his ass, where it would jostle and press against his prostate every time I spanked him... Fortunately, I had an active imagination.

“There’s a good kitty,” I cooed and patted him on the head.

After a minute hesitation he pushed against my palm, silently begging for more touches. I kept one hand on his head and used the other to give long strokes along his back, which made him melt on my lap. Has anyone in Heaven touched him at all? Gave him even platonic affection? Or did no one dare to approach the Leader of Heaven in such a casual manner? Michael looked starved for touch. I vowed to myself to give him more skin contact even outside our intimate encounters. Even if it meant the dreaded handholding.

I was so focused on the frankly relaxing act of petting my lover I was a bit startled when the angel turned his head to look up at me and...

---