The Sacrifice

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Chosen sacrifice is taken to altar of The Goddess.
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Ravenswing
Ravenswing
569 Followers

This story is dedicated to a Woman without whom there would have been no idea and no story. She knows who she is.

--

Her eyes were fixed on the belt holding together his black robe. Partially it was in deference, but she also needed something to concentrate on. The cocktail of drugs she had been given in the village were making her feel light headed and it would be wrong to stumble on the way to the circle. So she concentrated hard on the belt of white chord wrapped seven times around his waist and made her feet move forward.

Behind her, two other robed figures were there to guide her should she fall, drag her back should she attempt to run. No one had run from the Sacrifice for as long as anyone could remember; some said that it had never happened and that the Guardians were simply symbolic. She knew that when the ritual began, only the High Priest, the man leading the small procession, would be with her. The Ritual of Sacrifice was a guarded one, only the High Priest and the Chosen Sacrifice could attend the ritual itself. This had been the way for countless generations. Four went up to the circle atop the hill outside the village, two conducted the ritual. The number returning to the village afterward was a matter for the Goddess. For generations, the Ritual of Sacrifice had been used to select the new High Priestess; the Chosen Sacrifice who walked back down the hill from the circle became the new priestess. Those the Goddess rejected... She pushed the thought from her mind. Thinking about what would happen if she were judged unworthy would not help her now.

In a slightly detached manner, her attention was drawn to the way her nipples were rubbing against her robe. Her nipples were erect, hard, despite the warmth of the Midsummer night. It had been a hot day and the night promised to be sweltering. She was glad for the loose tabard she had to wear for the ritual. The simple strip of cloth was light and a little rough, made form un-dyed linen. Broken only by a hole for her head, it was open at the sides, tied at the waist by a red belt of woven linen. She wore nothing else, but her wrists were tied by a ritualistic tether of woven grass. The grass rope would part if she pulled on it, she knew that. Its purpose was symbolic, not functional. Her nipples still rubbed, and she realized with slight alarm that her body was reacting to the sensation. Between her legs, a slight wetness was beginning.

They arrived at the stones suddenly and she realized that she had not been paying attention. Now they stood at the gap in the stones acknowledged as the entrance way. It appeared no different from any of the other gaps between the monoliths, apart perhaps from the slightly more worn grass, but this had been the way you entered the circle for generations. Here, the two Guardians bowed to the priest and the Chosen Sacrifice and turned back down the hill. She blinked at them, watching their retreating backs for a second, before turning to step inside the circle.

She fell to her knees within a few feet. It was part of the ritual, it showed humility before the Goddess, but in truth her legs would no longer carry her. Her body was refusing to follow her instructions. It took all of her efforts to remain upright while kneeling. Yet, despite the apparent divorce between her mind and body, her senses seemed to be growing more acute. Her rock hard nipples were tingling from the cloth stretch over them. The slightest breeze sent shivers through her skin. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the world around her.

When she opened them, the priest was completing the Ritual of the Calling of the Goddess. She had seen it before, as had all the villagers old enough to attend at the circle. Every ceremony here began with this ritual, calling the Goddess to observe her followers. Normally it was conducted in daylight, but here the only light came from the half-circle of tall candles situated around the rear of the alter stone, each mounted on an iron rod sunk into the earth. The altar stone itself was different. Typically it was covered in flowers or a cloth. Tonight there was only the bare stone.

She blinked, and he was standing before her. She looked up into the shadow of his face and, for the first time since beginning tonight, she was afraid. All she could see were shadows, somehow deeper than they should have been. Then his voice, deep, smooth, comforting, came from those shadows and her heart lifted. "Can you stand?" he asked and she shook her head. He nodded, knowing what the drugs did, and stepped around her. His strong arms lifted her to her feet, and then swept her off them. Her head spun and the swift movement across the circle appeared disjointed, fractured. He lowered her, and she realized that she was now lying on the altar stone. The cold rock felt odd against her body; should it not have been hot after a day in the sun. He lifted her bound arms, stretching them up above her head, and then moved to her legs, placing them together, straight down the length of the stone.

From his belt he took a knife. The carved bone hilt was a natural white, bleached by time in the sun. Now he began the ritual proper, the Ritual of Sacrifice. His father had done this before him, and his grandfather before that. The position of High Priest was hereditary, unless the current priest failed to father a son, but the High Priestess was won on merit, the priestess chosen by the Goddess. This simple fact gave her more power than him, but not until she had been through this trial.

The knife was waved and circled, and her mind wandered. She saw herself as a child, running through the fields outside the village. Witnessed herself standing outside the circle the first time she had been allowed to enter. Her minds eye showed her the long line of priestesses that had been before her, and far down, at the end of the line, a glowing figure of such exquisite beauty it could only be the Goddess herself.

Hands untying the knot of her belt brought her back to reality. She struggled to focus on his face, now lit by the candles. The knot gave way, and he laid the ends of it to either side. Now he slipped the knife blade into the neck of her tabard and, in one swift movement, ripped down the length of it from neck to hem. The torn strips fell back against her skin and she let out a sigh.

Stepping away from her, he untied and began to unwind his own belt. Slowly he dropped it to the floor, length after length, as he unwound the seven turns. His hands took the front of his robe and parted it, sliding it off his shoulders and allowing it to pool on the floor behind him. She caught her breath. Beneath the robe he was naked, already semi-erect. His body was well muscled, firm, and it almost seemed to glow in the light from the altar candles. He picked up his knife and moved to the foot of the altar, where her legs were still resting together. She was aware of the wetness between them, aware of the tightness of her nipples.

He parted her legs, spreading them wide, and she could do nothing about it. Her body no longer responded to her wishes. Her arms would not lift, her legs ignored her pleas, even her head would not move from its attitude of looking up at the stars. Only her eyes moved to follow him as he climbed onto the altar stone between her knees.

He parted the cloth over her chest, not yet so far that her aching nipples were uncovered, and placed the knife there. The hilt rested between her full breasts, cradled by them. The blade was cold against her stomach, the point almost touching her naval. Now he leaned back and began to mutter under his breath, eyes firmly closed. Even if he had spoken aloud she felt that she could not have understood the words. Her mind seemed befuddled and she thought again of the radiant woman who had been the first High Priestess.

Her eyes flickered open as he pulled aside the torn cloth of her tabard. She felt cool air against her hot breasts and gasped. Then she gasped again as she felt his fingers slide between her legs. She was so wet, and he used that to moisten his fingers between her nether lips, sliding gently within her to the length of the first joint before pulling back out. She sighed, her eyes flickering closed. Then she caught the scent of her own musty fluids as he anointed her lips and nipples in turn with the clear liquid on his fingers. The scent seemed to drive right to the core of her mind and suddenly all she wished was that he would put his fingers back inside her.

Instead he moved his whole body over her, resting his weight on his arms, lowering himself so that his chest just touched her breasts. Her eyes widened as she felt the head of his shaft gently part her flesh.

"Goddess, pray find this sacrifice worthy of you," she heard him say. "Let your light shine through your servant."

There was an instant of pain as the sacrifice was made, as the body of a man entered her for the first time. The shock of his sudden entry into her body ripped through her, tearing a cry of pain from her throat. Her halted instantly, buried deep inside her, waiting for her to relax. Her eyes opened, looking into his, and he smiled.

She thought, for a brief second, that he was going to withdraw, that the ritual was over. Instead he pulled out almost completely before sliding back inside her again. The sensation was beyond anything she had ever felt. Her heightened senses causing the pleasure to be almost as hot and blinding as the pain had been. He continued his slow stroking in and out of her body until she was almost going mad from it. She wanted to beg him to move faster, drive harder, but her throat would not form words. She wanted to wrap her arms and legs around his body and force him to greater exertions, but her body refused to follow her orders. All she could do was lie on the rock altar and be slowly driven insane by this man.

Apparently sensing that she wished more, perhaps feeling that he could no longer maintain this pace, he began suddenly to drive faster into her. Her mind reeled under the onslaught of sensation, of pleasure the like of which she had never dreamed possible. She felt vulnerable yet safe, terrified of what was to come and wishing it would come faster. As his body plunged against her and hot, white pleasure began to arc out from her groin through the rest of her body, groans of pleasure were torn from her mouth. His voice rose to meet hers and her ears filled for the first time with the sounds of sex. Her breasts felt heavy as they bounced on her chest with each of his thrusts. Her nipples rubbed against his chest, sending spikes of pleasure through her body. She could still feel the knife between them, but no longer cared what use might be made of it. All she cared about was the fleshy knife between her legs and what use was being made of it.

The change, when it came, was sudden. He recognized it from the last time he had performed the ritual, and knew that this was the time of judgment. Her body tensed beneath him, despite the drug, and her eyes appeared to glow. She felt only the sudden release of her first orgasm as pleasure flared though her body in a wave that began where he was piercing her and spread outward time after time. She felt the presence of another within her, knew that this was her moment to be judged, but the pleasure was her whole world now. If she died at this moment there would be no regrets.

His orgasm overcame him as he felt her body close around his shaft like a hot, velvet glove. Ripples danced over him as her muscles clenched and relaxed, and there was nothing he could except shoot his load deep inside her. He felt the Goddess enter him through her at this moment, felt her wrap around his heart and caress him. His pleasure at that simple act of loving by his Goddess was almost greater than the pleasure creeping up from his balls. He looked down and saw the twitching body of the Chosen Sacrifice, raised as a virgin for the last eighteen years to become the next High Priestess, if her mind survived what was now happening to it.

Light filled her and she rolled in a sea of ecstasy. She felt him ejaculate within her, knew the pleasure of being filled by a man. At the same time she felt female hands on her body, a mouth caressing her nipples, her stomach, lower... She arched her back, or felt she did. The pleasure was almost pain now, too much sensation for her mind to cope with. She heard her voice, but was unsure whether the word came out through her lips. "Goddess!"

And the orgasm began to subside. And the light began to leave her body. And she fell back against the cold, hard rock. And all her world became darkness...

--

So, did she live or die? Tell me what you think.

Ravenswing
Ravenswing
569 Followers
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