Disclaimer: The story contains M/M BDSM.
All characters are of legal age.
*****
Banishing to the east. Prayer to the God of ultimate Pleasure and Pain.
Thanateros, your rite has commenced!
He recites: "Unto Thee - the Kingdom - the Power - and the Glory - to the Ages!"
"Amen!"
This ritual is the needed barrier to breach on my path to passing the Abyss of initiation.
I can see nothing. My wrists are tied with leather cuffs to a rack and I can barely stand on my feet. I feel my own hot sweat dripping down my temples and from my nose to the ground. But the room is cold. The room is cold and I am naked, defenseless physically and emotionally. My body is drained so dry and I cannot speak, let alone cry out.
Water.
I need it, desperately.
He has blocked my nose and my eyes. Soon, after he is done teasing me, he'll shut off my ears. His voice feels like a whip across my waist. It comes from the opposite side of my narrow dungeon. I beg him to come closer, to feel the breath of another human being against my skin.
When I am ready, he will fuck me. I love him for doing this for me.
I turn my head upwards and enjoy the firm leather of my collar tighten against my outstretched neck, restricting my blood flow. It feels... yes, maddening. As my head goes numb, in my mind I picture him, my sitter, standing above me and leading me into this sacred trance.
I feel the bodily chill of reality leaving me and the approach of a dense meditative state.
My temples pulse rapidly, the blood in my head boils. The intense pressure in my neck grows; my jaw turns painfully numb from downwards up as it depletes of blood, one breath at a time. I am panting, expanding my arteries into the leather restriction and more and more does my mind shut down. An extreme state of exhaustion overwhelms my tortured remains. But no part of me fights this death threat.
I can no longer sense my bodily torment. It has done its role.
Just knowing he is there before me keeps me hard. This shamanic trial has begun.
In my mind I hear the drums and rattle and my whole body bends to their tune. I feel in him Thanateros, I feel in him the Therionic beast. It approaches, obscenely sexual. Obscenely fatal.
Behind me, on the wooden rack are blades and thorns. They're dulled but still they brush against my skin as I dance, and in my back I feel not pain but relief. Few streams of blood drip down my waist and yet again to the ground. I hear him lick his lips. My god, my beautiful god Thanateros approaches.
He grasps my jaw with a steady hand and brings my head back down. Blood floods my arteries. I breathe in deep through my mouth, as it's only free. And my grin in the face of death makes him chuckle. I want him. He plants a kiss on my forehead and then grits his nails in my forearms above, almost breaking the skin. I sense the stinging marks of where he's been pleasurably flush.
If he kisses my lips, I would suffocate.
"I'll be waiting for you," the real him whispers tenderly to my left, and he then plugs my ears completely deaf.
I'm not sure if I would even enter the other side, if I would see the face of my god when I come. I am only certain my sitter and now master would take good care of me, however harsh he will allow himself to be as I have asked. He cares for me more than I do myself. Would he fulfill my wish is now a question for his sanity alone, it needn't bother me. My mind strays from any thought, however pungent it might be.
I realize that as my senses are blocked and heightened on adrenaline and endorphins, I experience the transcendental nothingness. This is the beginning and the destination to all my journeys, as the veils unfold before me.
My wrists, still tied together, suddenly hang down from the rack and I am led to bend mid-chest on a soft leather surface. I cannot abandon such sensations and they howl at me as if from afar, though they deeply satisfy me. Leaning on his body, I feel supported, empowered to transcend. My master's hands are gentle against my back, he wishes me no harm. In my sick mind he embodies Thanateros and I await his every movement in a state of awe.
Before my eyes from the deep blackness emerge two sacred serpents, tangling and hissing with godly intelligence. Strange and maybe horrifying, but to me not unkind, their appearance reminds me of the divine ambassadors. The affirmation that I'm on the right path fuels me with arousal and pious ecstasy. I won't resent those beasts' voyeurism. They expect with excitement the forthcoming sacrificial fornication. I proceed to the domain of pleasure.
My master traces the curves on my back with his fingertips. The pressure caresses my new wounds with agonizing stings. I envision my god Thanateros in his divine perfection, his enchanting naked body. My master licks the middle trail of my back all the way down and beyond my waist. As his presence slides steadily, his flickering breath teases the delightful cuts on my skin. I tremble by his touch. I approach the God of Death in blind, virile yearning. My master grips my ass and kneels behind me, tightly against the back of my thighs. I feel the tongues of the serpents licking my temples, the tongue of my god caressing my entrance. It pleasures me, gliding down and round, wet from my own blood; and it feels like heaven - the tongue of Thanateros.
I hiss the names of my god. Unsure in the strength of my voice, I groan by the shifts of his hot tongue against my hole. My chant is beginning to form. My master's lips kiss my skin and he worships me with unseen devotion. His hands caress me and I can only relax. I rejoice in this state of complete surrender, motionless and still. I can only look forward to the taking. My god is here. I need only beg him.
Dry words escape my throat, but I concentrate and recite:
"Divine pleasures lead me to this sacrament
