Seraphic Surrender is a fantasy erotica novella. A sensual tale of incestuous love between a mother and son. A fallen angel, entrenched in the revelries of the infernal realm, is given the gift of redemption by his heavenly mother, but at what cost?
“Dukes of Darkness bathe in blood, not water.”
Crestfallen, she implores, “Please, my son, this is no ordinary water. It has great healing properties. It has been blessed.”
I growl, “You wish me to bathe in holy water?!”
Melancholy weighs upon her shoulders. “I mean no insult to your eminence. I’m simply offering you a gift.”
Her somber state cools my anger to mere frustration. “I have no need of your gifts. I fought my way up from the infernal bowels just fine with no aid.”
She takes a stern tone. “And it is not my fault you laid with human women, resulting in the birth of nephilim and consequently your banishment from the ethereal realm.”
I exhale a heavy sigh. “You’re right, Mother. I’m sorry.”
She gestures to the bath again, more fervently. “Will you then please accept my gift?”
“Okay,” I nod, “but there is no reason for you to sully your hands with the defecation of the underworld.”
She falls into step beside me as I stroll to the bubbling bath, and offers me a devious smirk I’ve never seen on her elegant face. “You will not deny your mother the delightful nostalgia of bathing her baby boy.”
I snort. “It’s been millennia since I was a child.”
A gleeful giggle rings from her full lips as reminiscence sparkles in her dazzling eyes. “Even then you were chasing girls, even before you knew what do to with them.”
I chuckle at the nostalgic recollection of my childhood infatuations. “Oh, I knew what to do with them. They simply wouldn’t allow it.” I neglect to admit I convinced my younger sister to permit me to deflower her. She was the first of many innocents to surrender their virginity to my masculine guile.
Hands stout on her curvy hips, she squints one eye at me grimly. “How did you know? Who told you?”
Her maternal indignation curves my lips into a mischievous grin. “You did.”
She balks, “I would never!”
I let her stew in her outrage, climbing into the bath with a toothy smile as my response. Due to my infernal energy, the water rises to a boil instantly, steam hissing into the air.
My mother stomps a foot, and huffs, “I did not tell you at that age.”
As I soak, I draw her motherly distress out further. “As I recall, you never told me at any age.”
She throws her hands in the air, exasperated. “Then how am I responsible?”
I flash her a guilty grin. “I watched you and father without your awareness. Several times, actually. It was as entertaining as it was educational.” And showing my parents in the throes of passion to my sister was pinnacle to my sexual persuasion over her.
She shakes her head disapprovingly as she cracks a smile. “Azael, a rogue straight out of the womb.”
I shrug my shoulders. “I won’t deny it.” And dunk my head under the water. I remain submerged for a long while, lost in a serene trancelike state of mind. The water is truly divine.
When I finally surface, my mother’s white-feathered wings are spread wide and curled around me. She holds a sea sponge in one hand, sitting on the bath edge. Her eyes twinkle with tears of joy.