Devil May Cry/Bayonetta - Sparda's Angels

Lady watched, taking cigarette in hand from Gloria, as the solemn woman stood in front of her microphone.

Three of her, in fact. Three orange-haired ladies decked in long, white dresses presented themselves as holy mistresses. Light beamed from above, heavenly graces called by the one front and center. Lacy black cloth draped her arms. A golden crown adorned her head. In Fortuna, her friends and family knew her as the beautiful songstress Kyrie, but in the down and dirty life of Sparda's Angels, she was...

"Welcome, denizens of Inferno. My name is Naamah. I've been told many of you know me better as the songstress for the Festival of the Blade. Those who know of my talents, I promise, as the newest whore of Sama-... Sparda, that my performance will be one to remember."

She cleared her throat. Casting a glance back to her doppelgangers, she nodded readiness, and the three joined together in glorious hymn.

"Listen to my voice
Calling you
Calling you out of darkness"

Their melody flowed, soft as a gentle breeze, rising on the air. They reminded of songbirds, holy light gracing their modestly garbed forms, eyes closed in loving call to the muse of their hearts. Every word, every breath came out blessed with the divine glory of Sparda, the one true god of her people. Kyrie looked out at her audience, at the mass assembled, arms spreading as an appeal to hear her divine notes for the message they held.

"Hear the devil's cry of sin
Always turn your back on-"

Kyrie choked. Or at least, that's how it appeared. Coughing, spluttering, false wetness formed in the creases of her orange eyes as demons enraged by the angelic hymn prepared to storm the stage. She grinned, wide and wicked, clutching a hand at her throat and winking to the table of Blades.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. This song is far too pure for the demon-fucking wench I've become. It must be the dress. Allow me to change into something that suits my new style."

A burst of green shone from all three versions of Kyrie. The shimmer of false appearance faded, her doppelgangers' true forms showing first. Porcelain white skin signaled their allegiance to Paradiso, golden bands and chains decorating their immaculate bodies. Green orb joints composed their ankles and wrists, glowing, their weird helmets hiding their unblemished eyes. Four long ends of white hair drifted behind them, a halo hovering over their heads. Joys, Seraphim of the First Sphere, became fallen angels in their service as cheap sex dolls for their once blessed mistress. A mistress whose fall from grace peeked out in her own transformation.

Her chastity belt glistened even through the sheer whiteness of her long skirt, held by the waistband snugly fitting to her curves. Her crown and the armbands of her biceps mocked her regal look as much as her golden nails, toes peeking through her exposed sandals. Her hand passed from the glowing green light at front of her collar down to her bare breasts. The symbol of Fortuna, etched in permanent gold ink, displayed on her back while her left shoulder bore an ominous '331'. Moving past the flowery tattoos on her collarbone, her finger traced along the pink nipples.

Swooning into the mic, she spoke raspy to her audience with the secret art of sex speech.

"Ah, much better. I'm stuck with this awful chastity belt, but a songstress' true gifts don't come from what's between her legs, am I right?" She smirked at the uproar of approval. "My backup singers and I need some lucky demons to gum up our throats. Any volunteers?"

At once, the three Blades lunged to the stage. Kyrie's eyes darted down to the alpha lizard's whipping tail, sounds of its partners stomping before the Joys catching in her ears. For a moment, she remembered the day she tumbled onto this path.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Nero..." Kyrie hummed with a waking stretch under the covers. Her closed eyes and the window's sheer white curtains filtered sunlight into soft rays. She wriggled closer to her lover and pulled his hand around her, savoring him through touch. The warmth pumping from his half-demon heart pressed into her stomach. His gentle yet rough brawler's fingers edged along her chastity belt as her back cushioned against the pillow of his large bre-

"Nero?" A hint of caution held in her voice.

"I can be Nero if you want me to be."

"Gloria!"

In her haste to separate from the exotic dark-skinned beauty, Kyrie rolled into the nightstand and off the edge of her bed. The crash of a shattered vase joined the thud of her body against hard wood. She groaned and rubbed her head while a playfully smirking Gloria sprawled out with feline luxury, looking to her with soulless white-blue eyes.

"Morning sunshine," Gloria winked. "So, you two kids had a wild and crazy time last night?"

Kyrie yanked the covers from beneath Gloria, wrapping them as a cloak around her nude frame. "Th-that's none of your business. What do you think you're doing?"

"I overheard you moaning on about your lover in your sleep. How could I not have a little fun with that?" Gloria lied. Behind her empty eyes and caramel flesh hid secrets, dark and depraved, within a poker face of deception. She rubbed her fingers over her cleavage. To the untrained, the act was a salacious draw to her goods that caught men and monsters off guard for killing blows, but for Kyrie it drew her thoughts back to her own treasure that lay at her chest... or should have.

As Kyrie's hand wandered under her blanket, her eyes widened with the horror of that which she lost. "My necklace!"

Her modesty slipped off with the ease of her white covers as she bolted up and confirmed the loss of her cherished present. Thoughts of Nero bounced in her head while she tore through the room like a hurricane, whipping curtains and sheets about, lifting chairs and tossing pillows, even digging her hands into the gaps between cushions and mattresses.

"Nice tits, Kyrie. Decent ass too, it's a shame you're hiding that virgin pussy in that monstrosity." Gloria admired the bastion of holiness as her tease went unanswered. This songstress disguised such full perfect breasts and a spankable ass in a thick white Fortuna dress, but kept her most valuable asset open for all to see: her full pouty lips. Every breath of air sucked in through those pillows teased at the warmth and love she could give with such a gift. Gloria mused, "Trish was right. This musical tart would be a perfect fourth member. All we need to do is corrupt the part of her that would run around naked for some small trinket from Nero."

"Where is it?!" Kyrie shouted frustration. Her options exhausted, Kyrie turned back to the Order of the Sword's last member. She was just about to ask when Gloria held the sparkling necklace into view. Golden angel wings hugged the center red crystal, dangling from its chain.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Gloria dangled the pendant like a divining pendulum.

"Yes! Give it back to me this instant."

Kyrie staggered back as Gloria threw the necklace toward her. She fumbled its weight, juggling before it landed at rest on her hands. Unhooking from the back, she wrapped it around her neck and clipped it into place. She smiled and sighed relief at its recovery... then jerked stiff as a board as red energy formed constricting circles around her. Ring by ring the demonic power bonded to her soul within, lacing to the root with thoughts and feelings. Her head swam with thoughts of her future husband, the half-man half-demon she knew since childhood, and his greater needs while a surge of tingling tickling pleasure flooded her lungs. Up her esophagus and into her tongue, passion rippled through her. She moaned, and her mouth tasted its first orgasm with a breath of fresh air.

Gloria looked into the songstress' eyes. Their final bright orange glow and a smack of Kyrie's lips ensured a stable possession by the inhabiting spirit. "Kyrie, how do you feel?"

"I feel great." A wide smutty grin rose from cheek to cheek, brimming pearly teeth and a daring sultry gaze. Her pose slackened to a rest, spine poised back. "And my name isn't Kyrie, not anymore. Kyrie is a cry of mercy, something my cock-sucking lips will never give. You know my real name is Naamah, but you can call me the Mother of Divination or Mistress of Mouths if you like."

"Mistress of Mouths, huh?" Gloria smirked at the nickname. She flipped around, lifted the back flap of her dress and exposed the cleft of her bootylicious ass. "Well then, Mistress of Mouths, how about you 'divine' your mouth into my ass where it belongs. You have a lot of fucking ahead of you to become an expert at sex for your beloved Nero."

Kyrie licked her lips. "Mmm... yes. I'll need to suck off thousands of demons if I want to understand how to pleasure and love the demon side of Nero. I may as well start with your delicious rear as an appetizer for the long road ahead."

The newest Angel of Sparda slunk into bed. She parted the ebony cheeks with her ivory hands and buried her tongue into the stake of Gloria's promising hole. The delicacy sizzled against her taste buds, the first of many illustrious changes made by the possessing succubus. Her long nose rubbed the outer rim, her furious tongue-lashes jiggling the impressive ass mass like jelly.

"I always knew you were a little brown-noser," Gloria teased, clutching the bedsheets.

Kyrie giggled into her treat. They had a whole day and a free, warm bed to spend on their lesbian affair.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The alpha Blade bared its long fangs. Its screech rippled in her face. Loud, booming, the stage shook and her hair whipped behind her. Her eyes squinted. Her nose crinkled. Heat rushed over her cheeks. She reeled back, then with a grin, acted on the impulses granted by following her new whore-sisters.

Her head dove forward, between the creature's long curled horns. Her tongue darted deep as it could reach into its maw, wrapping the thin forked strip of red around her own pinkness. Her play brought out the taste of weeks' raw meat, staining the mint freshness from her mouth. Pulling away, she audibly smacked her lips.

"Mmm... you're a terrible kisser, but your breath is a real turn-on. Let me show you how it's done."

She knocked her microphone stand aside and dropped to her knees, between the creature's legs. Its marvel pulsed, awaiting her touch, one Kyrie indulged as she stared at its scaly base. Her tongue flicked the tip. She blushed a soft pink. Her numbered tattoo glowed. A claw tug on her ponytail joined the Blade's furious hip-buckling, the music of its screech bristling about her. She cast one final look in warning at the demon-beast soon to be tamed in her trap of oral pleasures.

"You're not going anywhere."

Her plump lips pillowed around the monster's girth and softly rippled waves through its veined shaft. Dark green skin stretched as the Blade's member jutted to the back of her throat. Tiny licks caressed from underside to bulb. Cheap spasms paralyzed the danger of its claws on her human face.

Nero flashed back into her thoughts. Half-human, half-demon, a perfect knight to her princess persona. A single tap of her cunt's cruel prison calmed any lingering doubts behind her lies, spoken in the loving lilt he knew so well before she ran off to become one of Sparda's Angels. One day she would return to her partner, and weave a web of deception with the same smut-laden lips she used to suckle her meals from the foulest hellspawn.

The beast's cum flooded in her mouth. Drool slipped from the corners of her lips as its acrid taste brought a new mouthgasm. Her tongue licked in circles, riding the high for all its worth, while the haunched Blade sagged onto its bony knees. The slack of her jaw in its descent popped the straining scaled prick from her mouth as the last spurts of its seed blasted with demonic force across her pristine features. Her orange hair clumped together against the cummy paste, dripping like honey from her rounded chin.

Kyrie licked her new coat of makeup from her lips, inhaling the bestial musk as the monster leapt to its freedom. Her tattoo dulled its light. She grabbed the microphone stand and rubbed the new number to her tally. 332. Rising, she looked back and watched the other two beasts return to their chairs in the same fashion as their alpha, their spunk running down the Joys' solid white breasts. The deed was done.

She slathered oozing cum over her breasts like massage oil as she spoke to the crowd. "That's better. I'm all clogged up and ready to perform. Are you ready to hear the shittiest, nastiest, most godawful singing you'll hear outside of Hell itself?"

The mesmerized demon hordes cried out in unison. Shouts, whistles, buzzes and clicks, they all supported her self-destruction with eager eyes, ears and voices. Enough teasing, she thought, as she spread her arms and started the song anew.

Her wrecked throat belted out loud, obnoxious notes with the prowess of a tone-deaf amateur. The sound creaked out raspy from strained vocal chords. Her once angelic high-hitting notes transformed into low and deep mockeries of their original flowing beauty. Through lung force, her nasally song cut out in sudden ear-piercing screeches. Her ears suffered the audial catastrophe with the same painful throb as any normal human... while her tongue relished the nasty cum aftertaste.

"Listen to my voice
Calling you
Calling you out of darkness
Hear the angel's cry of sin
Always whip out your dick on her"