Ritual (MF, nc, bdsm, sacrifice)
Written by Sarah Anne Talley
There was a unique sect of paganism that began as a cult
and turned into almost a religion in late 14th century
England. The sect was called "The Bringers" and their
most sacred ceremony required human sacrifice.
Usually the ceremony required the priestess to first rape
and then kill a willing male of breeding age. If the
priestess became pregnant from the sacrifice, her
daughter after reaching her majority would take her place
allowing the priestess to retire with honor.
The position of priestess was something to be desired,
but her sex life wasn't much to be desired. She could
only have sexual relations during the sacrificial ritual.
And the ritual could only be performed once a year on the
shortest day, during the shortest hour of the winter
solstice.
The practitioners of this cult believed that if the
ritual didn't come off just right then they were doomed
to a torturous year to follow, so it was important that
everyone played their part well.
Finally in the 1340's the Catholic Church eradicated all
but a few of "The Bringers".
But even after centuries of obscurity the ritual still
takes place at least once a year at the very moment
prescribed. It may be just a group of kids that
discovered a manuscript and decided to defy convention.
Or it might be a group of Satanists that stumbled upon
the ritual and think it was devised just for them.
The one constant factor is that someone, someplace in the
world, has observed the ritual at least once each year.
One wonders what would happen if the chain were ever
really broken?
December 2001
The priestess stood in the shadows as the young strong
looking Chinese man was led into the room. She watched
him with interest wondering how he would hold up under
the coming ritual. In the five years that she'd been the
"Bringer of the Solstice," she'd never done it with a
Chinese man before. He looked, well, interesting--
Warren Wong was a handsome man with strong clean limbs
and a well-formed body. He obviously worked out and under
normal circumstances he would have been able to fight his
way out of a situation like this. Although he was an
unwilling participant of the evening's events he was
powerless to protect himself from the people that
surrounded him.
Blindfolded with a black cloth bag tightly tied over his
head and tied hand and foot, Warren was completely at
their mercy. And when priestess walked confidently up to
him and gripped his balls through the material of his
jeans, her powerful fist squeezing him hard; all he could
do was groan in pain and double over.
The flame-haired priestess looked down at the young
Chinese man and wondered again briefly how he would hold
up. She hoped that he would do better than the big black
man she's undergone the ritual with last solstice. He'd
been a big disappointment to her and the disciples. He
was such a big and powerful looking man that she thought
he would have held up better.
She could still recollect what a magnificent male
specimen he'd been. All muscle, black and shiny, with
thighs like knotted tree trunks and a manhood that was
impressive even when flaccid. But he had disappointed her
most bitterly. When the ritual had come and she'd begun
to "bring" him, he'd just cried and whined like a baby.
But as the golden-skinned Chinese man knelt at her feet,
the priestess was heartened by his defiant silence. She
hoped that his silence was a good sign, but no one could
really tell what kind of man he was until the "Bringing
Ritual" began.
Warren was made to stand again. He flinched at the touch
of the woman's hands upon his arm. The priestess smiled
when she saw this, it always aroused her when a big
strong man flinched at her touch. Then she turned to her
disciples and said gruffly, "Strip him, and be quick
about it. It is almost midnight."
Warren heard her and felt hands pulling at his clothing.
He felt sick to his stomach with fear. How had he come to
be here? What were they doing to him? Then his memory
cleared slightly from the drug he'd been
fed and he remembered the pretty white girl who had been
standing outside the strip bar.
She'd beckoned him around the corner just outside the
circle of light shining down from above. He'd thought
that she was a prostitute and he was more than willing to
pay for a piece of something that looked so hot.
She was tall and had a curvy body. But what really
grabbed Warren's interest was her flame-red hair and
utterly white skin. She looked almost unearthly and was
most definitely one of the most beautiful women he'd ever
seen. He would have paid any price to touch her, to climb
between her legs, to fuck her... Yes any price.
The last thing Warren remembered was leaning in to kiss
her. She'd invited him to kiss her. As his lips touched
her's he'd felt faint. Then he was struggling to breathe,
but she held him tight in a passionate kiss and it seemed
as though she was sucking the breath right out of him.
Then he began to crumple to the ground. The first thing
Warren remembered as he woke up here blindfolded, was
someone laughing, a high-pitched feminine laughter.
As the disciples tore at his clothes Warren tried to pull
away, but it was no use. He could feel his clothing being
pulled and cut away. What was happening? He blindly
jerked away from his captures and fell to the ground. But
that just made it easier for the hands to pull his pants
and underwear from him. In moments Warren lay naked on
the ground.
The flame-haired priestess inspected the Chinese man's
body, looking for any defects or imperfections. She knew
that if she found any that it would be her responsibility
to find another man suitable for the ritual. It was too
late to find anyone else other than a disciple. The
ritual must take place in the next few moments.
Luckily the Chinese man's body was perfect, no blemishes
no birth defects. His golden body was beautifully smooth,
with light wisps of black hair under his armpits and
encircling his manhood, with a little pubic hair
peppering his heavy balls. His muscular body showed that
he worked out, and as he struggled she could see his
sinus ripple under his smooth skin.
The priestess liked what she saw, and sighed with
satisfaction as the naked blindfolded man was pulled to
his feet and led to the stone slab.
The drums began to beat their slow mournful rhythm and
the priestess thrilled in anticipation of the coming
ritual.
The handsome Chinese man was pushed down onto the cold
stone while several disciples grabbed his wrists and
ankles and spread him wide. They tied him to the four
brackets that had been pounded into the stone for that
purpose, all the while fighting against the struggling
man's body.
The priestess watched silently as these tasks were
performed, just as the ritual required. A disciple pulled
a jug of warm oil from beside a low fire that was kept
alive just for this purpose. The robed disciple walked
over to the bound man and slowly tipped the jug until a
fine string of warm oil began to flow out and onto his
writhing nude body.
The priestess stepped forward and ran her hand through
the flow of oil temporarily breaking the string's flow.
Then she lowered her small hand to his chest and began to
smear the oil over his golden flesh. She enjoyed the feel
of his slick skin under her oil-coated fingers. And with
a sigh of satisfaction she saw his manhood jump into life
when she brushed her hand along one side of his still
flaccid shaft.
The priestess intoned, "Disciple. Pour your essence oil
directly upon his manly parts. Make him ready for the
bringing ceremony."
Warren jumped at the sensation of flowing oil splashing
onto his stiffening cock. Then he jumped again as a hand
touched him and began to squeeze and massage it. Within
seconds he was fully hard and as the small oil-coated
hand continued to massage his cock-shaft Warren moaned
quietly and involuntarily arched his back at the
pleasurable sensations.
The disciples watched as the flame-haired priestess
stroked the writhing Chinese man's tool into full flower.
Soon it was straining for release, all covered with
veins. Flesh expanding and retracing with each heartbeat.
Blood coursing through his tool in an ever-quickening
pulse. His manhood stood out quivering proudly, all pink
and purple with blue veins, throbbing with the warmth of
life.
The priestess slowly bowed over the prostrate Chinese man
and brought the bulbous oil soaked head to her lips. She
kissed it as though it were her lover. Fondling it as if
it were her baby, caressing the shaft and finally sinking
down on it to the root so that her painted lips were
crushed against his wispy black pubic hair.
Warren involuntarily arched his back and moaned as he
felt himself slide deep into a warm wet throat. Even
though he couldn't see, he knew what was happening. Even
through his blindfold he could see in his mind's eye the
flame-red haired girl going down on him. The sensations
welling up in him were amazing.
Then the chanting began. Warren couldn't make out the
words exactly. They sounded strangely muffled and then he
realized that he had a bag over his head, oh god what is
this? He wondered for the thousandth time.
The chanting sounded something like "Make him come, make
him come," but Warren just couldn't be sure, the chant
was just a little too indistinct.
But when he felt the fingers fumbling at his crotch and
knees coming down on both sides on his hips he could
guess what was coming next. All of a sudden Warren wasn't
sure if he really minded being their captive. If it truly
was the red-haired woman who'd tricked him, well, he'd
wanted to fuck her anyway, so what difference did it make
if a few people watched them doing it.
Warren groaned in pleasure as a warm wet cunt engulfed
his stiff shaft sending wonderful shivers of delight
through his body in delicious shooting spasms. And when
she began to ride him in a rocking motion Warren couldn't
help himself, he began to moan in pleasure and the girl
atop his body began to pick up the pace.
From somewhere in the distance and in the back of his
mind, Warren heard a clock striking the hour. As the
first strike sounded the girl on top of him gasped and he
could tell that she was orgasming on his stiff member. It
excited him to know the pleasure she was receiving from
their union, and that brought him closer to his own
orgasm.
The second strike and she lay over his body and shivered
as her orgasm racked her body. He could feel her naked
warm breasts heaving against his naked chest.
As the third strike sounded Warren heard her breathe into
his ear, "Come for me baby, fuck me, make me pregnant
with your child." The fourth strike sounded, and then the
fifth.
The woman atop Warren began to rock back and forth on his
stiff manhood, now screaming at him, "Fuck me, fuck me
harder, come in me, come in me now!" The clock struck for
the seventh time.
Warren was by this time on the verge of coming. At first
he didn't know what to make of the woman's wild actions,
but when she started screaming at him to come in her he
just let go and began to thrust up at her cunt with his
hard cock. She matched his rhythm as if it were the most
natural thing that had ever been.
The clock struck for the eighth time.
It was just too much for Warren. The feeling of the
woman's warm wet cunt wrapped around his cock, her small
hands pressing against his chest as she wildly road him.
It just felt too good.
The clock struck for the ninth time and Warren felt the
final flush of passion pump out past his prostate gland
and pulse up his cock shaft and into the warm wet
receptacle of the priestess' grasping cunt.
The clock struck for the eleventh time.
Warren groaned in ecstasy as he began to pump his come
deeply into his partner's body. She was still riding him
wildly, trying to milk him for everything he was worth.
Then in Warren's subconscious he heard the clock strike
for the twelfth time. It wasn't an actual thought because
all he was really thinking about at that moment were the
wonderful feelings that the flame-haired woman's cunt was
giving him.
When it had all begun Warren had been afraid. He'd been
an unwilling captive. But now as he pumped the last few
gushers of hot come into the priestess' body he was no
longer an unwilling participant.
At that moment, in that nanosecond of time when Warren
had become a willing participant, the knife slid home
between his ribs into his heart. The knife was twisted
expertly in the small fragile hand and then shoved
deeper.
Warren's manhood throbbed one last time and then he
exhaled and was dead.
Minutes later the priestess was handing around the
equally sliced pieces of Warren's still warm heart and
they were all discussing the ritual and how well it had
gone as they nibbled.
The priestess glanced over at Warren's cooling corps and
smiled lovingly at him. He hadn't been a disappointment
at all. Maybe if she hadn't become pregnant with his
child, (which she hadn't in the past rituals) maybe she'd
just try and find another Chinese man next year.
And if he'd made her pregnant and she was no longer the
`Bringer of the Solstice," well she'd have her child to
keep her company, and to take her place eventually.
END
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