Shota and angelmom 1st draft (though probably no 2nd)

A boy dressed in a black cloak sits in a basement, ash and ruin lie around him, though the ceiling above is intact enough to keep the light of day from reaching down here, perfect for what he's attempting to do. Behind him stand six skeletons at the ready, waiting for their young master's orders, each a monumental effort to create for the talented, but young necromancer. Beside him sits a book, the only one from his parent's library he was able to find in a mostly readable condition after a group of adventurers tore through his family's manor, slaying and burning all they could find. Before him lies a circle, carefully drawn in chalk, matching the singed but mostly intact picture in the book, his ticket for revenge against those who have wronged him.

The boy adjusts his glasses before he gives the book's pages another once over, wincing as the edges of one of the firescarred pages crumbles a bit in his hand, "That part, probably wasn't important" he tells himself as he looks back over the circle. He had to guess for some parts of it, but it should work, at least if all his calculations are correct. "You really only just needs a circle, a name, and a bit of magic after all, the rest is just for safety's sake" he mutters under his breath, though that doesn't stop him from closing his eyes and focusing, channeling into the glyph a  protection from evil spell, telling himself it's just to keep the demoness in place in case it'll take more convincing than he expects.

His throat starts feeling dry as he finishes his inspection, "She'll hear me out of course" he mutters aloud to no one in particular, doing his best to remind himself that he picked the succubus Liltila for his first summoning, and not just because that's the only demon who's name he overheard his parents speak before, "Mom and Dad used to call her up ever night after I went to bed, she must be a friend of the family's" he reaffirms with a nod before suddenly feeling very silly talking to himself. He sheepishly looks around, making sure there's no one here other than his minions as he lights the candles, "Beside, I'm just going to ask her what she wants in return for giving me the power to avenge their deaths, she can't say no to that!" he adds with a bit more confidence before mumbling under his breath, "And if I can burn down that awful orphanage all the better".

Now properly psyched up, the child kneels down and places his hands before the circle, staring at the marks before his fingertips he strains to push his magic into it. His heart races as it lights up, he can feel his power dancing across the sigil even though the effort leaves him exhausted, "It's working, it's working!" he thinks with grin, staring down at the glowing lines on the floor.

But then, the air shifts and his glee turns to worry as he realizes there's something wrong. There's a bright, blinding light when the shadows should deepen, there's a thunderous crash when he should hears screams, and an oppressive aura fills the room when ...no that one's actually correct, though something about it still feels wrong, it's not one of terror so much as it's a sinking feeling in his chest, like he's been caught doing something he knows he should not. It's almost intense enough to make him miss that there's something now standing in the middle of his circle

With a nervous gulp, the boy's gaze starts to drift up and his heart skips a beat at what he sees. The figure before him is beautiful in a way he's never seen before he realizes while his eyes have yet to travel halfway up her form. The figure before him is magnificent, pure and simple, her smooth, creamy skin is without flaw, her legs, long and graceful, perfectly flaring out into wide, soft hips, a flat tummy above that, with just the barest hint of abs showing through the softness of her skin, higher still hung her breasts, heavy and full, all clad in a thin, silken robe that hugs every curve, hiding everything and yet leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, made all the more impressive by how it somehow fails to distract from the way her long, golden hair frames her perfect face, a sight that leaves him filled with lovestruck terror the moment his eyes meet her's.

For even as his heart flutters in his chest, the boy realizes with dread this is not what he was trying to call up, no succubus had pure white wings nor a halo bright enough to light up the dim room. "This is an angel", he realizes with a growing sense of panic, "I should.... I should..." the boy's mind races as he struggles to tear his gaze away. All the while she simply looks around with an eyebrow quirked.

Turning her gaze to him, the angels asks "Just what do you think you are doing young man?"  in a tone he hadn't heard in years, one that fills him with a deep longing for a time before.... the boy shakes his head, "I-I am the last s-son of house Blackwood and I... I..."  the words catch in his throat as she leans forward slightly, looming over him and leaving the milky flesh of her breast threatening to spill out of her robes. "Naughty, you've obviously been up to no good Young man" she finishes for him, the ever heavier feeling in his chest and stern tone of her voice not enough to prevent  his eyes from darting down for a moment, "Very, very ill behaved", she adds with a disappointed huff.

"No!" the boy yells with an angry stomp after managing to muster some defiance, "You can't speak to me that way! Even if you're not what I wanted, I still summoned you and you're still bound here! I order you to stop!". To which the unimpressed looking angel just reaches through the circle, sending another way of panic through the boy. "No, no, no, wait, you can't! You can't do that! Stop! Ow, ow, ow! It's not fair!" his protests degenerate into whines as she takes hold of his ear and drags him over to the charred remains of what might have once been a chest. Upon finding it still sturdy enough, she takes a seat, pulling the struggling boy into her lap, before pinning his kicking legs between her soft thighs and almost effortlessly bending him over her knee.

"Let go!" he yells, trying to squirm out of her grip as she loosens it just enough to hikes up his robe, exposing his little butt to the cool air. "What are you doing! Unhand me- ah!" he cries out at the sudden and unexpected sting of her palm on his cheeks. "Necromancy. Is. Not. A. Toy" she sternly lectures, driving home each word with another swat, another stinging hand print on his backside, "Do you understand?". "I'm not-" the boy's reply is cut off by five more smacks, harder than the last, each one rocking his body forward, leaving his little butt stinging and, as some increasingly mortified part of him notes, not unpleasantly rubbing part of his groin against her soft thighs. "Try again" the angel commands, her hand resting upon his sore cheek. "I don't-" another wrong answer, another five smacks, each one grinding his little body involuntarily her thighs again. "Do you understand?" she repeats, to which the boy simply shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes.

Once more she brings her hand down, then again and again, but on the third the boy lets out a moan, giving the angel pause as his face quickly turning as red as his little butt. "You're ...actually enjoying this aren't you?" she asks as she seems to think this new development over, her hand gently rubs his stinging cheeks, as she hums out. The boy remains silent, though after a minute the angel seems to reach a decision, "Alright, in that case repeat after me, Necromancy, is not a toy". "Necromancy i-AH!" he cries again, the sting of her hand and feeling of her thigh rubbing across his dick coming as an unexpected surprise. "Keep going" the angel encourages the now very confused boy, "You did good". "I-is, Aah! Not-mmh! A-!, T-toy" he trails off with a whimper, fighting back tears after each word earned him a pleasantly painful smack. "Now, for the next one, Demonology is not a toy", five more words, five more smacks, and several more whimpers and moans from the boy as he finds himself squirming, an unfamiliar pressure now building up in his groin as the angel strokes his hair, "I will not summon undead" she adds and he begins to repeat. Mid way through, the pain and pleasure finally proves too much for the boy and with a shudder and a gasp both his seed and his sobs are released, painting the angel's thigh with his cum as he begins to cry.

Gently, the angel pulls him back up, and cradles the weeping boy in her arms, "It's okay, let it all out." she whispers, rubbing light circles along his back. "You understand why I had to do that right?" she asks once the boy starts to calm down, though not enough to do more than give her a halfhearted nod in reply. She just gives him a bittersweet smile, "I can tell you're a good boy at heart, just misguided, ...do you not have parents?" she asks, though can already tell the answer from the look on his face, "Would you like me to stick around then?" she asks, again, his  expression serving as all the answer she needs. With a flap of her wings, a warm, sooth feeling washes across the room, leaving the boy a little less sore and causing the skeletons to collapse on the far side of the chamber, "Then feel free to rest up young man" she softly coos, her words making the boy realize just how exhausted he is after this whole ordeal, and to a soft lullaby, he drifts off