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."
