Work Text:
Intellectually, you knew it was a terrible idea. To rifle through the Devil’s Den in Raphael’s absence was to risk incurring his annoyance at the very least, and likely worse– but the offer of the contract loomed so temptingly within reach, your curiosity burned to know more. What clues to the devil’s intentions might be sitting discarded in a folded scrap of paper in his desk, or tucked neatly beside trinkets in a bedside drawer? You decided you had to know.
After careful observation of the brothel’s foot traffic, you found a suitable window of time to sneak in. It seemed that Raphael’s business took him elsewhere more frequently of late, and as you’d hoped, the windows to the suite remained dim and undarkened by shadows from within. You crept through the balcony door, muffling the lock-latch with your hand as you turned it shut behind you. That hadn’t been so hard. Looking around, emboldened, you spotted a journal atop his desk. For all his threats and theatrics, perhaps Raphael wasn’t so immaculate after all. You began to daydream of the strategic advantage the book’s contents might confer in your next meeting.
Just as your fingers brushed against its cover, a sizzling light began to emerge in the air behind you, casting your soft shadow on the tabletop. Your nose was flooded with the sudden scent of smoke and cherries, and your confidence vanished. When you turned around, orange sparks crackled in the air before you, splitting into an ardent burst of yellow light before fading entirely to darkness. In its wake stood Raphael, his scathing eyes taking in the scene before him. Your heart pounded.
With a snap of his fingers, the room was lit, and you felt yourself drop to the floor on all fours, ankles and wrists bound to the ground with some form of holding spell. You grappled against the restraints, tugging in the direction of the door. When it became clear that you weren’t going anywhere, you settled on a defiant stare, trying your best to deny Raphael the satisfaction of seeing your fear. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly measured, with a callous, punitive cadence.
“How very disappointing it is to see you here under these circumstances, mouse. Rifling about like a common thief? Really?”
He leaned down, eyes locked onto yours.
“Have you so little understanding of your place as to think you would not be caught? Must I remind you?”
You heard the warning laced into his tone, but pride won out over sense when you finally dared to speak.
“I…I can discern my place for myself, Raphael. I was here to learn, not to take. Surely you can appreciate that? Besides, for all your talk of mortal hubris, you seem to need us quite dearly yourself.”
Raphael’s face tightened in a scowl. His voice sank lower.
“Is that so?”
Before you could react, Raphael brought his foot up and landed a swift kick against your face. You cried out in surprise and then again in pain, feeling the heat of blood blossoming in your nose. Tears began to cloud your eyes, and you leaned forward as much as your bonds would allow, arms against the ground to brace yourself, at eye level with Raphael’s boots. You couldn’t help but notice that the deep black leather was visibly well-kept, embellished with a silver pattern trailing from the backstay down to the slight point of the toe. Elegant and ominous, much like the man himself. Feeling the ache of its strike pulsing along your cheek, realizing that you were now trapped on the floor by his feet, you felt an undeniable jolt of desire between your legs. It was time to leave before the devil caught on.
“Consider the lesson learned, Raphael. Let me go, and I will not disturb your chambers again.”
“My, my.” The devil chided. “Not even a ‘please.’ It would seem that you are even less aware of your own station than I’d imagined. We will remedy that, I think.”
You felt a thud as the side of his foot knocked against your cheek– softer than the first blow, but still with bruising force. You cried out and thrashed against the bonds holding you to the floor, but stilled yourself when the toe of his boot dipped under your chin, holding your head high to meet his gaze. You breathed heavily, the fresh ache of embarrassment and pain burning across your cheeks. The pride in you loathed his self-satisfied smile, but you felt a growing wetness between your thighs at the indignity of panting before him on the floor, his foot against your face. The smell of leather and burning wood filled your nostrils, and you inhaled deeply.
“R–Raphael…”
Too late, you tried to twist the moan in your voice into something somber. It was not very convincing. He raised an eyebrow, experimentally dragging his boot from your jaw to step directly against your face, pressing slowly forward. You let out a small choked moan, nuzzling your cheek into him, grazing your lips against the tread of his boot. Raphael chuckled darkly.
“Such poor restraint, even from you. Is that why you are so eager to brush up against your limitations-- you enjoy being debased like this? Does my little mouse need to be pushed to the ground beneath my shoes? ”
You whined meekly, begging with your eyes but saying nothing in response. Raphael tutted, smiling at your weakness.
“Nothing to say for yourself? Now is no time for this charade of modesty, mouse.”
He tapped his boot hard against your face, almost playfully. You let out a whimper, looking up with pure yearning in your eyes. Cruel amusement lit Raphael’s smile when he caught your gaze, sending a new wave of desire rushing between your legs. You wanted him to see what this did to you. You wanted him to keep going. Any semblance of control was slipping from your grasp– you knew you needed to get back to camp before this devolved any further. Stumbling over half-meant words, you tried desperately with what remained of your will to resist.
“E…enough of this. Let me go, please. You can goad all you’d like, Raphael, I…I still have my dignity.”
The devil laughed.
“Oh no, little mouse. You are quite mistaken.”
Raphael lifted his boot again, more slowly this time, pressing the toe against your mouth and dragging it gently between your parted lips. You let him.
“It would seem that I have your dignity.”
Your cheeks flushed-- you knew he was right. Giving one last glare of fading determination, you finally let the devil do as he pleased, opening your mouth wider to let him press his boot forward past your lips, the need between your legs mounting when the taste of leather filled your mouth. You groaned, feeling the rough texture of the tread against your tongue. Raphael let out a low, rumbling laugh as you lapped out to lick under the sole, sucking gently on the toe of his boot.
“That’s it, mouse. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
You nodded sheepishly, drool beginning to pool on your bottom lip.
“Very good. Now.”
He lowered his foot, leaning down to grab a fistful of your hair and guide your head to the floor.
“Show me how grateful you are to have your mouth on my boots.”
You whined at the command, eagerly obeying. Mouth open, you pressed your face against his boot, swirling your tongue over the tip as though kissing a lover, tasting leather and hints of your own blood as it trickled down from your face. Raphael extended his leg, allowing you to eagerly lick up the vamp, placing a reverent kiss against the arch of his foot, then another.
“Filthy little thing, you are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
You moaned in response, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his boot.
After a moment’s pause, you asked,
“Raphael, can you…”
The ghost of your pride curtailed the thought as you began to voice it.
“Yes, mouse?” The devil’s voice was not patient.
“C-can you kick me some more, please?”
Your cheeks burned, and you felt heat between your thighs with the words as you said them out loud. Raphael let out a growling laugh.
“Oh, dear. My mouse is a masochist?”
He didn’t wait for a response, instead bringing his foot down to press your face against the floor, his voice descending into a proper growl.
“Do you like it when I hurt you, little mouse? Tell me.”
You whined, feeling his gaze burning into you from above.
“Y..yes, Raphael. It feels good. Please, make it hurt more…”
“Since you’ve asked so nicely.”
He snapped his fingers, and all at once, you felt the warm air of the Devil’s Den on your bare skin, felt the bonds loosen from your wrists. When he removed his boot from your face, you looked up, confusion in your eyes. The devil chuckled.
“Do not fret. You will get precisely what you’ve asked for. Now…”
His eyes traced the lines of your naked body, hovering over the slickness coating your thighs.
“Hand between your legs. If you want to be hurt again, you will show me how much you enjoy it.”
You looked up into his eyes, alight with hunger, and shuddered. Your arm trembled as you ran it up your thigh and began to touch yourself, sliding a finger teasingly against your entrance.
“Such an obedient thing– and all for the promise of pain. I would not have guessed that this was all it would take to tame you.”
Raphael smiled, watching your cheeks flush under the crooked praise. He stepped to the left, almost out of view, then drove a hard kick against your side, the impact digging into your ribcage. The toe of his boot was harder than it looked, and you screamed. Shameless now, you coated your fingers in your own arousal, teasing yourself and moaning into the air as the fresh ache of his kick rippled through your body. Raphael stepped forward, placing his boot on the ground by your face.
“Thank me for it, mouse.”
You whined, slipping a finger inside yourself as you brought your mouth down to kiss his boot, looking reverently back up at him.
“Th-thank you, Raphael.”
He hummed an affirmation, then drew back his foot, kicking your mouth, hard. You tasted blood instantly, its warmth flowing down onto your chin. You ran your tongue appraisingly over your cheek and lower lip, and felt a significant split where his boot had landed. You whined, the sharpness of your tongue flicking over the scrape sending heat between your legs. You let your hand match the feeling, touching yourself in time with the pain. When it was offered, you kissed his boot again.
“Thank you,” you whimpered.
Your face was blooming with the heat of fresh bruises beginning to form, your legs growing sore from being on all fours for so long. You pressed a second finger inside yourself, daring to look into Raphael’s eyes as you did. The ghost of a groan escaped his lips as he watched you debasing yourself for him.
He pressed his boot against your cheek again.
“Does it hurt, mouse?”
“Ahh– yes!” you wailed.
“Very good,” he crooned, cruelty dancing beneath the false gentleness in his voice.
He swept his foot sideways to collide with the arm on which you’d been resting. Losing balance, you fell to the floor, catching yourself inches from the ground. Now in a near bow, you lay on the floor, ass raised in the air, feet still bound to the ground behind you. Just as you looked up, you felt Raphael digging his boot against your cheekbone, tapping it to the side repeatedly against your thoroughly swollen skin before dropping it to the ground for you to kiss.
“Ahh– thank you” you whined, wincing with every touch, pressing your wet lips to the toe of his shoe. You curled your fingers inside yourself, moaning with the delicious blend of ache and shame.
“Such pretty cries you give to me, mouse, and entirely for the pleasure of being beaten.” He tutted. "How positively perverse."
You quickened the pace of your thrusts inside yourself, whining against the floor. You were close, now, the devil could surely see it too. He hummed gently in appraisal, and the familiar texture of warm leather ghosted against your bruised cheek.
“I wonder, is my boot against your face alone enough to bring you past the edge?”
You moaned, nodding fervently up at the devil standing over you.
“I want to hear you say it, mouse. Beg me.”
You needed little convincing.
“Yes, Raphael, p-please…please step on my face, Raphael…”
He smiled widely, reveling in the sight of you in this state, your pitiful whines, your fingers inside yourself, calling his name. At last, he obliged. You felt the tread of his boot pressing hard against the side of your cheek, pushing your face down into the floor. Your sensitive, broken skin screamed out, your nerves shot lightning between your legs at the degradation. You let out a moan that may have been more of a wail. You couldn’t tell.
“That’s it, little mouse.”
He pressed the ball of his foot down against your cheek, twisting slightly– as he did, you sank your fingers inside yourself, grinding against your palm, finally finding release.
“Ahh– Raphael!”
Your pleasure washed over you, shockwaves rippling from between your legs over your whole body, sensitizing the skin where his kicks had left their mark. You reached out with your free hand to rub the side of his boot as you rode out your orgasm, reverently holding the arch of his foot against your own face.
“Raphael…” your voice trailed into a breathy whisper.
You lay on the floor for nearly a full minute, exhaustion and pleasure lulling you into a sweet moment of perfect bliss, nestled at the ground by Raphael’s feet. Finally, his voice stirred you back into reality.
“Very good, little mouse.”
You groaned. Your mind slowly began to clear, and with clarity came a fierce desire to return to your bedroll, far from the Devil’s Den and the delicious shame you’d just bared here.
“Raphael, I…can I…”
He chuckled softly, stepping back a pace. A snap of his fingers wiped the slate of your shared evening clean, soothing the swell of your cheeks, clearing the dried blood from your chin, and loosening the bonds from your ankles. Another snap, and the clothes returned to your body, exactly as they were before but for a preternatural warmth and a sweetly sulphurous scent.
“Yes, you are free to leave. You have entertained me sufficiently to have earned that much.”
Raphael smiled, watching you slowly rise to your knees.
“Thank you.” you replied curtly, daring not to test the limits of his patience by foregoing your manners again.
“We will call this transgression forgiven, mouse, but I will not indulge a second misstep so lightly. Do you understand?”
The light in his eyes slackened for just a moment into something colder. He meant it.
“Yes, I…I understand.”
“Very good.”
You propped yourself up, rising to walk on unsteady legs to the door.
“Goodnight, Raphael.”
“Goodnight, mouse. Until we meet again.”
You turned past the doorway without looking back, disbelief and exhilaration lighting your face as the cool air from the bay hit your flushed cheeks. Sauntering shakily back in the direction of camp, you began to brainstorm excuses to sign for the hammer.