foggybottom
Venator imaginum
**Sacrifice** 2 
-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
Sacrifice Altar
- Thread starter sporus
- Start date
theseus
SERVILIS CURATOR
Here is a story I wrote about a decade ago for one of our members, Megs. Perhaps there are those who remember her.
The Sacrifice
The forest was dark, the light of the full moon not penetrating the dense foliage. The procession winds down the forest path, the chanting of the priests eerie in the gloom. The acolyte walks in the middle of the procession, head bowed. The flickers of moonlight gleam off her pale, naked body.
The procession enters the clearing. The moonlight is bright here, illuminating the stone altar and the tall stake beside it. The monks form a circle around the altar. Their dark robes are somber, cowls hiding their faces. The only relief in their dark attire is the moonlight shining on their erect phalluses, jutting from the front of their robes. The acolyte is led to the post. Her hands are tied high above her head. Her pale body is stretched against the rough wood. Four priests step forward, whips snaking behind them. The lashes crack across the acolyte’s back, raising bloody welts. Her screams tear the forest silence. The whipping ends. She sags against the post, sobbing. The monks chant, an eerie minor key sound.
The girl is led to the altar. Tied on her back, arms and legs spread wide. Her head hangs down off the edge of the altar. The high priest leads the procession. A phallus enters her mouth, probing deep into her throat. It pumps into her, ignoring her choking, until it empties itself of its seed. It is immediately followed by another.
In strict order of rank, the thirty priests and monks empty their seed into the acolyte’s throat. The chant continues, measured, eerie. The girl lies inert, sobbing quietly. Her throat is raw, semen running into her nose and eyes, dripping from her hair.
The chief priest steps forward, a tall, burning candle in each hand. He intones a prayer, calling for a blessing on the ceremony. He places a candle on each of the girl’s firm young breasts. A sharp thrust pushes the spike at the end of the candles into each of her nipples. The candle flames waver with each shuddering breath.
Another chanted prayer. Then the tone of the chant changes, it becomes louder, faster, more urgent! The priest steps forward again, a boldly patterned snake in his hands. The beady eyes glint in the light of the candles fixed to the girl’s breasts. Its tongue flickers. Slowly the priest lowers the snake between her wide-spread thighs. He prays that the snake god will accept this sacrifice. He guides the snake’s head to the girls gaping vagina. The tongue flickers against the tender flesh. The snake slithers forward, testing the dark place. It slides some more, encountering resistance. The muscular body flexes, moving forward again. The girl moans, her hips twitching, as she feels the pressure on her vagina. The snake continues, its blunt head entering the dark, soft moistness of her vagina. She moans again, feeling the stretch, the cool shape spreading her lips. Deeper! Deeper still! The thick, muscular body fills her, stretching her. Her panting causes the candles to waver, burning wax dripping onto her soft breasts. Her breathing becomes faster as the snake burrows ever deeper into her body. The muscles of her vagina contract, squeezing the snake’s body. It responds by burrowing deeper. She is so full! The rippling body of the snake fills her, stretches her. The chant reaches a crescendo as the snake’s tail disappears between her lower lips.
Silently, the monks file out of the clearing. The sacrifice lies on the cold stone, staring at the moon. The muscular body of the snake moves inside her! Her muscles ripple. Candlewax drips onto tender flesh.
The sacrifice has been accepted!
The Sacrifice
The forest was dark, the light of the full moon not penetrating the dense foliage. The procession winds down the forest path, the chanting of the priests eerie in the gloom. The acolyte walks in the middle of the procession, head bowed. The flickers of moonlight gleam off her pale, naked body.
The procession enters the clearing. The moonlight is bright here, illuminating the stone altar and the tall stake beside it. The monks form a circle around the altar. Their dark robes are somber, cowls hiding their faces. The only relief in their dark attire is the moonlight shining on their erect phalluses, jutting from the front of their robes. The acolyte is led to the post. Her hands are tied high above her head. Her pale body is stretched against the rough wood. Four priests step forward, whips snaking behind them. The lashes crack across the acolyte’s back, raising bloody welts. Her screams tear the forest silence. The whipping ends. She sags against the post, sobbing. The monks chant, an eerie minor key sound.
The girl is led to the altar. Tied on her back, arms and legs spread wide. Her head hangs down off the edge of the altar. The high priest leads the procession. A phallus enters her mouth, probing deep into her throat. It pumps into her, ignoring her choking, until it empties itself of its seed. It is immediately followed by another.
In strict order of rank, the thirty priests and monks empty their seed into the acolyte’s throat. The chant continues, measured, eerie. The girl lies inert, sobbing quietly. Her throat is raw, semen running into her nose and eyes, dripping from her hair.
The chief priest steps forward, a tall, burning candle in each hand. He intones a prayer, calling for a blessing on the ceremony. He places a candle on each of the girl’s firm young breasts. A sharp thrust pushes the spike at the end of the candles into each of her nipples. The candle flames waver with each shuddering breath.
Another chanted prayer. Then the tone of the chant changes, it becomes louder, faster, more urgent! The priest steps forward again, a boldly patterned snake in his hands. The beady eyes glint in the light of the candles fixed to the girl’s breasts. Its tongue flickers. Slowly the priest lowers the snake between her wide-spread thighs. He prays that the snake god will accept this sacrifice. He guides the snake’s head to the girls gaping vagina. The tongue flickers against the tender flesh. The snake slithers forward, testing the dark place. It slides some more, encountering resistance. The muscular body flexes, moving forward again. The girl moans, her hips twitching, as she feels the pressure on her vagina. The snake continues, its blunt head entering the dark, soft moistness of her vagina. She moans again, feeling the stretch, the cool shape spreading her lips. Deeper! Deeper still! The thick, muscular body fills her, stretching her. Her panting causes the candles to waver, burning wax dripping onto her soft breasts. Her breathing becomes faster as the snake burrows ever deeper into her body. The muscles of her vagina contract, squeezing the snake’s body. It responds by burrowing deeper. She is so full! The rippling body of the snake fills her, stretches her. The chant reaches a crescendo as the snake’s tail disappears between her lower lips.
Silently, the monks file out of the clearing. The sacrifice lies on the cold stone, staring at the moon. The muscular body of the snake moves inside her! Her muscles ripple. Candlewax drips onto tender flesh.
The sacrifice has been accepted!
crackpot
Executioner
Excellent short story, thanks
foggybottom
Venator imaginum
Found a few strays in my files, may not be new here.
Dorothy Brown
Brown Sugar
That Picture is so erotic,it`s not the sacrificial offering as much as how she would be feeling. her mind would be in turmoil,in my case something like this can`t be happening to me, my tummy doing somersaults who will take care of my kids, never see hubby again no no don`t sacrifice my body. can`t speak properly my brain is about to burst it`s so full of last second thoughts but i can hear this female voice pleading for her life, no don`t please no, i don`t want to die mixed with short sharp breaths and squealy screams,PLEASE NOO. then the knife goes in, startled scream red flashing lights ,head shaking from side to side trying hard not to die but darkness is closing in fast. the knife twists in my body ,my body arches up then falls back on the altar my eyes freeze wide with terror and i fall into an endless black hole.
THEN I MEET LUCIFER
THEN I MEET LUCIFER
Attachments
Crux-Emperor Baracus X
Rectidolor
Do these count ?? 
Typhor2434
Executioner
Excellent, blood for the blood god
cynthia the inocent
Tribune
I just read this entire thread. I don't fantizise about crux. I have always been excited about being sacrificed on an altar. We have a big wooden table in our play room . Often I am the entertainment for our guests at our bdsm parties. I am shackled to the four corners spread eagle and the guests are urged to act out their fantacys inflicting pain or sexual pleasure on me. Marie mixes up a concoction of an afrodaisiac and tranqualizer. I am very relaxed and very horny. The guests often comment about how turned on and wet I am befor they even start. I am blindfolded so I cant anticipate what they will do to me. A stinging blow from a whip or something being inserted in one of my holes. I often wonder what it would be like for them to tire of abuseing me and decide to kill me in my bound and helpless state. That thought makes me so sexually excited. I have often thought the pictures of sacrificial women seem to show them relaxed and unafraid. They may be drugged or in a trance, which is how I would describe the way I feel. Not knowing what will happen and so turned on that I don't care. I love that feeling of being helpless and getting abused.
We haven't had a party since the covid thing and I need , no crave , the release I get from being naked and taken by both men and women
We haven't had a party since the covid thing and I need , no crave , the release I get from being naked and taken by both men and women
Typhor2434
Executioner
Nah you would care after we are finished with you.
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Sacrifices ... all art by Dashinvaine.
The last night before the offering.
The chosen one, already decorated with all the symbols of the sacrifice and infused with a substance that puts her in a trancelike state, is allowed a last rest, during which she writhes wildly as her dreams revolve endlessly about what she anticipates ...
The wicker man has shown up here before...
the captured girl is led away by the gigantic hooded skeletal doompriest, while being prodded on from behind by an armored toadman.
Past the 'wall of relics', incorporating the statues and symbols and bas-reliefs of all the many deities whose faiths and people have been swallowed whole by the cult of the Nameless Ones...
This is a bit over the top honestly.
Sometimes, actually, ten skulls are not better than one.
I guess she keeps separate vats of blood, one foul to drown her enemies in, and one tasty to rejuvenate herself !?
Routine devilchurch ritual...
Failed sacrifice.
'I knew you were up to no good when you said you "wanted to show me the old stone circle in the light of a very special time of the year" .
On the way up I discovered what you were hiding in that pouch ... you didn't even notice me pilfering it did you?
So, you will NOT have a sacrifice to that foul cult you are re-awakening this evening! Instead ...
(girl, don't talk so much, just do it and run!)
The last night before the offering.
The chosen one, already decorated with all the symbols of the sacrifice and infused with a substance that puts her in a trancelike state, is allowed a last rest, during which she writhes wildly as her dreams revolve endlessly about what she anticipates ...
The wicker man has shown up here before...
the captured girl is led away by the gigantic hooded skeletal doompriest, while being prodded on from behind by an armored toadman.
Past the 'wall of relics', incorporating the statues and symbols and bas-reliefs of all the many deities whose faiths and people have been swallowed whole by the cult of the Nameless Ones...
This is a bit over the top honestly.
Sometimes, actually, ten skulls are not better than one.
I guess she keeps separate vats of blood, one foul to drown her enemies in, and one tasty to rejuvenate herself !?
Routine devilchurch ritual...
Failed sacrifice.
'I knew you were up to no good when you said you "wanted to show me the old stone circle in the light of a very special time of the year" .
On the way up I discovered what you were hiding in that pouch ... you didn't even notice me pilfering it did you?
So, you will NOT have a sacrifice to that foul cult you are re-awakening this evening! Instead ...
(girl, don't talk so much, just do it and run!)
siobhanmaoindubh
Condemned
A true classic.
Come, you have prepared for this, with fasting and meditation. You are ready. Don't be shy, put your hands down, the god will want to see exactly what he is getting. A virgin is not so easily found these days.
You are still a virgin, are you not?
Crux-Emperor Baracus X
Rectidolor
I would like to offer my services,towards the task of sacrificing Virgins.....I quite enjoy de-flowering them
( Wait....wait a minute....what DO you mean,i have to use a dagger on them ??)
( Wait....wait a minute....what DO you mean,i have to use a dagger on them ??)
RacingRodent
Consul
I would like to offer my services,towards the task of sacrificing Virgins.....I quite enjoy de-flowering them
( Wait....wait a minute....what DO you mean,i have to use a dagger on them ??)
Not the kind of 'giving her a good stabbing' you had in mind?