Tammy Rothstein ran her tongue along the hard muscles of the strapped man's abdomen. She stopped when her eye became level with the tip of his firm phallus. She could not believe how hard he was. He should be scared flaccid, not scared stiff, she thought. Only death awaited him here. It just went to show you how stupid men really were, Tammy mused. The inferior half of the species was ruled by one thing only.
She looked at the drop of pre-cum that had oozed out of the small mouth at the tip of the man's penis. She slowly closed her eyelashes around the tiny pearl, lubricating her eye with a tear of semen. A tear of death. The strapped man trembled in response.
She looked up at her sisters in the Craft and smiled. They were all skyclad of course, and Tammy could see their twenty-two magnificent breasts, albeit blurred by her tear of cum. Even Martha Jeffreys, the group's crone, despite the wrinkles that graced her cheeks and throat, sported pendulous breasts that were as soft and flawless as a twenty-year-old girl's. And why not? They were all twelve avatars of the Earth Mother. The givers of life. The bringers of death.
And behind them in waiting stood the Grand Master himself, his organ rigidly erect as always, his face hidden by the black hood, the metal spikes gleaming on his leather collar, his chains glistening in the candlelight.
Tammy had still never seen his face, no matter how many times she had let him thrust himself into her various orifices as she had lain upon this very altar to receive the sacrament of blood.
But that organ of his. She knew its every curve, its every trembling desire. Its anger when it pounded its way inside her body in a desperate attempt to find a shelter of skin, To batter its way back into the paradise of the womb. To escape, even for a moment, the emptiness of the Void.
But this night she would envelop another. Tonight she would fuck Death itself. And finally come face to face with the mystery of life. Finally gaze upon the countenance of her true Master.
She had been extremely lucky finding this coven. For years she had searched in vain for its like, only finding pseudo-witches. Little more than health food freaks, obsessed in saving the planet from poisonous chemicals and male oppression, dabbling in things they could never understand.
But her new sisters knew the Darkness. Had each drunk deeply of the Void in years of drug addiction and madness. And had finally found the way out.
Tonight it was her turn. She crawled up the hard torso of the man who lay strapped to the wooden altar in a mocking reverse of the traditional black mass. Tammy's young breasts traced their way up the naked man's chest, their erect nipples brushing tantalizingly against his naked flesh, her luxurious red hair flowing over his skin. She straddled the man and felt the iron strength of his muscles against the wetness of her nether mouth. She gripped his nipple in her cunt as she gazed into his open eyes. She could see from their glazed look that the drugs she had poured into his gasping mouth were beginning to take their toll. She could feel the second potion beginning to work inside her own body as well. Martha still would not tell her, a mere initiate, the recipe for the witches' broth. Judging from the effects she was feeling, she assumed maybe a little datura, maybe some ketamine. A little ecstasy perhaps. Her body felt good, glowing in fact. Although her mind longed to ride on the final journey. To accompany the man into death. To draw his last breath from his body. Into her own. To ride the endless winds of night with two souls.
She looked down at the man as she slowly worked her cunt back and forth on his chest. He grinned stupidly at her, as men always did. She wondered just what her sisters had told this man. How about a little party? Just let us strap you to this table and all twelve of us will do you at once? Just a little B&D and some harmless fun? You don't mind if we cut you a little bit, do you? Maybe kill you at the end? Our little sister here needs to undergo a sort of religious communion, you see. We're sure you want to help her out.
Tammy licked her lips in anticipation. They had promised her a newborn next. The blood from its severed throat pouring into Tammy's eager mouth. Tammy's soul merging with its newborn mind as it plummeted back into the darkness of the Void from which it had just emerged. Tammy had read all the exposes of infant sacrifice, of course. How it was just all false memory syndrome and urban folklore. She had always known it had to be real. Thank the Goddess she had found this coven at last!
They passed the chicken to her then, its wings flapping as if in anticipation of its fate. Reluctantly, she slid off the man, immediately missing the warmth of his skin against the wet flesh of her crotch.
She held the squawking bird high above her head with her right hand and with the left she accepted the blade.
"Blessed be the Mother," the coven chanted as one. "From flesh to flesh, from blood to blood."
Tammy drew the blade across the chicken's throat, severing its head with a single stroke.
She held the bird's empty neck over the strapped man, letting the blood pour over his crotch, the smooth skin of his chest.
Her sisters came forward then to receive the communion. Twelve tongues licked every drop of gore from the strapped man's penis, his balls, the hard muscles of his inner thigh. Tammy felt Greta Masterson's naked breasts sliding over her back, as Greta's mouth sought out the man's anus. Tammy licked the man's straining neck free of blood, the coppery taste of it like nectar to her soul. She patiently waited her turn, then finally was invited to place her own mouth over the head of the man's penis. She squeezed it with her lips. It throbbed desperately as she licked the glans and reached down with her fingers to massage his balls. She felt them jump in her hand and quickly withdrew the man's prick from her mouth. It would not do for him to come just yet. She ran her tongue along the underside of the man's penis as a form of consolation. She felt his whole body quiver in response. Then a wave of dizziness overcame her. The drugs were going to give her scant time to do all that she had to do.
She looked up the man's torso only to see Mona's butt bouncing up and down on the man's head. Mona was the ninth to mount him, her cunt riding his tongue, and she clutched his long brown hair in both her hands, pressing his face tight against her mound. She rocked back and forth on his mouth. The man showed no signs of tiring. Under the urging of innumerable aphrodisiacs he was clearly up to this task. Up to the grandness of his imminent death.
Tammy began the rite of the thousand cuts as Jane mounted him, her cunt spilling its juices into the man's eager mouth even as Tammy drew the scalpel across his hitherto perfect flesh. The man flinched with each cut but otherwise did not even seem to take notice. Probably the effect of the witches' potion, Tammy figured. His tireless mouth kept working until Jane was finally spent and Martha Jeffreys took her place atop the man's face, her huge crone's cunt burying the man's nose and tongue as if trying to draw his whole body back into her womb. She rocked back and forth, her clitoris rubbing its way up and down the length of the man's perfect nose as she cried out in wave after wave of ecstasy.
Finally, it was the Grand Master's turn. He too climbed the altar and straddled the man's head, bending to kiss him through the hole in his mask before sitting full astride him and placing his massive balls into the man's waiting mouth. The man had smiled at the Grand Master as if he knew him, which Tammy thought was strange, and he licked the Master's balls eagerly, which Tammy found equally strange, even through the fog of her own aphrodisiac-wracked brain. The strapped man had clearly been no homosexual. She would not have even thought him bi.
As Tammy's scalpel sliced further into the his already mutilated flesh, the strapped man lifted his head to receive the Grand Man's giant organ, smiling as he did so. The Grand Master seized the strapped man's hair as he plunged his throbbing organ deeply into the man's throat, time and time again, like a battering ram trying to break into the tender confines of the man's inner body. Cheryl climbed upon the altar, her tanned legs wrapped around the strapped man's torso, and she began licking and sucking the Grand Master's balls as he plunged in and out of the strapped man's brutalized mouth. Cheryl used both her hands to open the Grand Master's buttocks and plunged her tongue deep within his anus as he thrust faster and faster into the strapped man's mouth. Her breasts rested on the back of the Grand Master's thighs, as her tongue worked its way deeper and deeper into the crack in the Grand Master's ass.
The strapped man's lips remained tightly clenched around the Grand Master's organ, his tongue busily working the skin of the shaft until finally the Grand Master cried out, seeming to ask for release, but the strapped man continued to suck him and suck him and suck him, until the Grand Master had to push his too eager mouth away. He descended from the table, supported by Tammy's naked coven sisters, his hands absently clutching their breasts as they lowered him gently into a waiting chair. Dina gently rested her head in his lap, her soft tongue licking the blood from his bruised and still throbbing organ.
