Fallen idol



       A deep deafening silence, thick and suffocating, pressed down on the lamb as she lied on the floor, defeated by The One Who Waits after she tried rebelling against him by refusing to give up the power of the red crown back to him. Failing her followers who witnessed the confrontation from above, trapped in cages that hanged from up high.
       —A valiant effort, lamb. —The One Who Waits drawled, his voice dripping with honeyed malice—. For a creature so utterly, pathetically mortal. How you managed to defeat my followers is beyond understanding.
       His voice echoed through as he passionately delivered his speech. The lamb, her eyes filled with defeat, could only watch helplessly as the red crown was cruelly snatched away from her. In that moment, all the powers she once had were mercilessly stripped away, leaving her feeling utterly helpless and weak.
       —Interesting… —The One Who Waits was in awe after analysing the crown in detail—. To believe someone such as yourself would gather so much power and indulged in so much sin.
       Submerging himself in the immense power bestowed upon the crown by the lamb, The One Who Waits was no longer confined to waiting. His once elusive ambitions were now within reach, all thanks to the newfound strength concealed withing the red crown. With the ability to manipulate death as he desired and defy its boundaries at his whim, he was ready to embark on a journey that would reshape the very principles of life.
       But before anything else, he had to embrace his divine responsibility and bestow punishment upon the lamb who dared to betray him.
       Extending his hand towards the above, he sought the dark energy concealed within the crown, tapping into the seed of sin that rested inside. Within the depths of it, he discovered a powerful surge emanating from the sins of the flesh.
       The followers of the lamb had indulged in insatiable lust and desire, and now their transgressions would become the lamb’s punishment, a spectacle for her cult to witness as they gazed upon the god of death.
       Under the touch of his powers, she transformed; the gentle lamb changed. She began growing bigger in stature, her shape grew fuller and curvaceous, enhancing her voluptuousness with each curve of her body. Blessed with generous breasts and a well-rounded ass, her form flourished in a mature woman’s frame.
       Her wool that once covered her almost entirely, now barely served any purpose as her traits were now exposed for everyone to see at their will, and only covering meaningless areas that provoked lust on their own.
       All eyes were captivated upon the radian alteration –the once innocent creature now beheld alluring curves and charms for the world to see. Beauty evolved from gracefulness that spread around her new body.
       Following the transmutation, the surge of passion ignited inside her being. This sudden impulse of yearning started boiling within her body as she tried to fight it back, her body in the brink of giving in.
       Quickly the senses overpowered her as she crawled in the floor trying hard not to indulge herself in pleasure.
       —This stench, this sin… You have decided on your own punishment from the start, lamb. Rejoice in it now with your new body. A disgrace to godhood and a disgrace to my faith as you now embody your cult’s wishes, a cult you yourself created on your image, so bask on your image as it is your true self, agitator of the seed of sin.
       The One Who Waits spoke as he broke his chains. Now casting his true powers by summoning the once dead, Baal and Aym.
       —Now rise forth, Baal and Aym. My servants. —The god ordered in form of a chant—. Though you two obeyed, you still failed me! For this you must atone by casting punishment down to this lamb, by rituals of flesh! That is unless you two wish to face the same fate!
       The two cats rose from the grounds beneath the god as circles of dark blood manifested under him, creating bubbles of blood that popped in the air to grow the reach of their borders. The lamb trembling in fear as their defeat was not easy for her and their strength was mighty, she looked in shock as their bodies began to manifest once again.
       Now her efforts were null since the god of death challenged his own duty and revived them with ease. Her spirit beginning its path to hopelessness as her eyes met with them.
       And like nothing mattered, they climbed from the holes they came from, unbothered by the nature of their resurrection as their bodies formed from the blood, bone and flesh that was created to reform them.
       And so, the two cats rose from the grounds beneath the god and seemed ashamed to be in his presence. Unfit to be bestowed by the god’s grace once again. With rage and vengeance in their eyes they quickly accepted their new mission and pledged their faith to him once more.
       —As thou wish. —Aym answered, Baal bowing in silence—.
       The now lustful lamb gazed upon their formerly conquered foes while dread took over her heart. Aym, the white-hued eye, who bore a crescent-shaped sickle and his brother, Baal by his side. The two blessed by the god’s magic, approaching her with terrible intent.
       —Do with her as you please for as long as you want, no mortal limitation will ever stop you two from laying my divine punishment! —The One Who Waits gave his final order—.
       Pleased by the order they had to follow they approached the lamb, who was naked and weak while her enemies remained the same way they were before the battle. Quickly they got a hold of her and as she struggled to defend herself, they proceeded with what they desired.
       Aym –last to perish, and who held the biggest grudge against her, commanded Baal to subdue the lamb. To which he obeyed, restraining her by the head, ruining what wool she had as she fought against it.
       Delighted, Aym made eye contact with her, holding judgement upon her as judge and executioner:
       —Thou have betrayed our lord, and showed yourself unfit of his blessing. How do you plead to your crimes? —Aym asked—.
       But the lamb could not answer, the heat she felt so impossible to hold she could only bleat, panting away a steamy air as her body sweat. Her last resource being a glaring eye with which to judge him back.
       Insulted by her resilience Aym took hold of her away from his brother as he pushed her head against his robes, pressing her head against his bulge as she grabbed onto them in an attempt to retaliate against his actions.
       The lamb appeared to resist, but she was being driven wild by Aym’s bulge, its warmth and a phenomenal smell that emanated from it drove her crazy, her mind going cloudy.
       —If you are not to talk, unless it is to insult our lord, then we shall find a better use for your tongue. —Aym continued his unwavering passage of sentence, before reluctantly shoving his cock into the lamb’s drooling snout—.
       Aym took his cock out and fed it to her, her mouth opening against her will. The fleshy texture of it drawing her dazed mind back to this world.
       It was large and thick, covered in small spines from the tip to the bottom, it scent was strong and the mere action of looking at it was intimidating. It pulsated, ready to be pleased by the lamb.
       She could barely take it all, feeling the tip reach the most inner parts of her as the spines made quick work of it, hurting her tongue as he began to thrust in and out. She tried to evade them, but Aym’s cock was too big for her to avoid, especially with how violent he was by forcing her movements meet his own. Her fingers clinging to his robes as she tried to struggle.
       There was no way to resist Aym’s hold. She couldn’t even move her head as he hold her in place by grabbing her horns like a pair of handles as he continuously pumped his scent into her throat. His smell reaching the most inner parts of her consciousness.
       The lamb’s eyes watered as she looked at him, a mixture of pain and pleasure as Baal joined his brother to his side. He too had a similar penis glancing from his robes, with the same traits, length, and girth.
       He swinged it near the lamb’s head to mock her, forcing her to liberate his brother’s clothes so her hands could serve a better purpose.
       And as she sucked on Aym’s cock she let go of one hand to grab it, masturbating him, pleasing both. The spines on his cock hurt her hand, but that did not stop her as she continued regardless of the self-inflected pain that it caused her, since whenever she did stop, they would leash at her and force the lamb to continue.
       Both brothers watched in disgust and hatred as they observed how she rejected their bodies, how she refused to accept the holy punishment. They found themselves wishing more and more to break her into pieces, while the lamb was suffering deeply.
       Aym and Baal now felt like they could do even more with her than they first let themselves to believe as godlike powers flowed through their veins. Their manhood leaking in violence as they verbally insulted and commanded her with direct orders.
       —Disgusting creature, use your mouth on me as well. —Baal took her head away from his brother, liberating her from Aym’s cock and forcing his inside—.
       The lamb then switched her hands to Aym, reverting the previous action. Then switched back as Aym felt like she hadn’t sucked his phallus enough.
        As the they of them continued, the god watched over them with a sense of disapproval towards his two followers. 
       Bothered at how they fought over her as if she were a prize instead of a criminal, he had to remind them of their job and the ritual they were taking part of.
       The One Who Waits began conjuring a change in their bodies to help them remember their duty, making them grow bigger in size. Their robes could no longer hold in place as they fell to highlight their new appearance, manlier and stronger, giving them an ever-intimidating form. The lamb too could feel their change as Aym’s cock filled her mouth even more and Baal’s cock could barely fit in her hand. Suddenly she was choking on cock.
       Aym and Baal also felt affliction from this change as the sensation of pleasure increased exponentially to the growth of their virility. The pleasure hurt them but also excited them to do even worse, specially Aym, whose cock was feeling trapped inside of the lamb’s mouth and it could now feel her mouth crush him in pressure.
       —Now, thou shall be cleansed by blessed seed. —Said Aym, who could barely hold it any longer—.
       And it was in fact time to cleanse her as he began to ejaculate inside the lamb’s mouth, burning the bruises that their spiked cocks had caused alongside her tongue, her throat, and her soul. The cum was tasteless to her yet she felt a flaming delight when she ultimately had to drink it as it overflowed her mouth. Aym’s cock covering every inch of her as he pushed her against it using her horns as a handle. Aym would inevitably moan in pleasure, but his moans sounded like a cold and death tone of music covered in darkness –a mixture of moans and groans that dissipated the diving line between pleasure and anger.
       The lamb could barely breath as her hands tried to scratch his legs claiming for air, but her chance only showed itself after every last drop of cum had been deposited on her, being finally released by Aym as she dropped to the floor to cough out what she couldn’t drink. Her eyes watering in tears as she felt life escaping from her for a moment.
       The One Who Waits felt pleased again as he watched over them with a sense of approval towards his two followers now that the lamb began to show her regret, congratulating them by raising an altar next to them for whenever they wanted to use her in more creative manners.
       But peace wouldn’t reach her yet as it was Baal’s turn, who had barely any time to play with her and was already being overshadowed by his brother over and over again. So, by grabbing her from her wool, he dragged the lamb to the altar conjured by The One Who Waits, having her meeting with it face first as he threw her. At that point he approached her by opening her mouth and shoving a finger inside as Aym made his way to her back.
       —At least try to save yourself, or is this humiliation what you truly sought for? —Baal scolded her—. You filthy whore.
       Aym, with his scythe, he began to reposition her body, posing her in all fours as she was fed Baal’s cock, spreading her legs, and rising her ass to the air. The more he looked at her the greater his disgust –soon he would begin to tease her by passing through her body the cold edges of his weapon as her heart skipped a beat and her mouth whimpered.
       She once again looked at her cult, but now not a single eye dared meet hers as they all saw in displeasure how her idol was no more the powerful being they were led to believe but a tool made for pleasure.
       Baal’s fingers were covered in the Lamb’s saliva as he forced them down her throat, driving her crazy as she licked on them like one lick a lollipop –her eyes focusing on Baal’s hand as he toyed with her.
       He would spread her mouth open with them, toy with her tongue, but most importantly he would impose pain on her by scratching with his claws whatever area turned out to be hurt by Aym’s spines. Forcing her to cry in pleasure as tears began to form. She wanted to keep her composure, but the sin of lust was taking over her with every moment of wicked desire forced upon her.
       She could feel him reach her throat with each push as her mouth was forcefully manipulated and her body rubbed against the cold slab, hurting her nipples, causing them to erect in pleasure as small droplets of what appeared to be breast milk began to leak from them.
       Meanwhile, on the other end of her, Aym gazed in disgust at the lamb’s wet pussy, using his scythe to tease it as her legs trembled while doing so. He had to cleanse her of this filth as well, so spreading her ass cheeks he employed his tongue, licking it before using it.
       The lamb couldn’t take it and began to moan as she felt her pussy be spread by Aym’s tongue, his teeth piercing her flesh and his claws holding her with violence as they dived deep into her wool. Her tail waving in excitement she felt ever more so humiliated as she couldn’t hold back her reactions any longer –pushing her ass against him so he could reach further inside of her. Eventually she also would feel the need to reach a climax, at least once, but it was not yet her time as eventually Aym would stop and rise above the cold rock slab.
       And as she continued to choke on Baal’s fingers, Aym now pressed his cock against her wet and trembling pussy which palpitated –eager to welcome him inside.
       But right before he finally penetrated her, he observed that the lamb was still struggling against her fate, trying desperately to escape even as her body shook uncontrollably under his control. He watched as her cries echoed through the chamber, filling the air with despair and loneliness. But still, Aym stood firmly behind her, refusing to relent until she submitted entirely to him –allowing himself to use her body and her soul however he wished. And thus, she finally succumbed, surrendering herself fully to him. Her body craving for him to use her for his pleasure.
       Finally, he penetrated her, sliding inside with force and in a single thrust, each spine quickly scarring her insides as he began to go inside and out over and over again, Aym moving her hips to meet with his until he realized the lamb was moving them on her own.
       With his grasp tightly on her waist, his cock throbbing painfully within her, she let out one final, pitiful sob before falling completely limp. At last, their bond had been sealed –they were her masters, and she was their willing whore, slowly letting out moans of pleasure and pain that echoed to her followers who still gazed upon the wicked ritual with pain as their idol fell.
       The sounds of her feminine voice continued as her body remained as a mere object of pleasure while the extasy of sex filled her soul.
       The senseless humping of Aym and the strong pain inflicted by Baal reminding the lamb of her new position. But her newfound lust only worsens her punishment as the brothers reminded her that she was paying the price of disobedience. This was not a congratulating act.
       —Fret not my servants. —Interfered The One Who Waits—. This is as intended, as the lamb now knows her place. Lust was all she sowed and now is all she reaps. Succumbing to your flesh is but the reaction to be expected.
       —Disgusting whore! —Aym still punished her, slapping her ass—.
       The push behind his slap pushing her against Baal and choking on his fingers even more as she tried to break her fall, choking and coughing while he continued to violate her face, looking in disgust at how she begged for more.
       The lamb’s body trembled uncontrollably as Aym’s relentless thrusts drove deeper into her, each movement a searing reminder of her fall from grace. The cold slab of the altar bit into her skin, scraping against her swollen nipples as they leaked tiny rivulets of milk, pooling beneath her in a perverse mockery of purity. Her moans, once stifled by shame, now spilled freely from her lips, mingling with the guttural grunts of Aym and the cold, disdainful commands of Baal. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and sin—a miasma that clung to her wool and seeped into her very being.
       Above, her followers watched in a horrified silence, their eyes averted or glistening with tears. The cages swayed faintly, creaking under the weight of their despair as they witnessed their once-revered leader reduced to a vessel of lust and torment. The One Who Waits loomed over the scene, his towering figure radiating an aura of cold satisfaction. The red crown pulsed faintly in his grasp, its power now fully his, a dark beacon of dominion that cast long shadows across the chamber.
       Baal, his patience thinning, yanked his fingers from the lamb’s throat, leaving her gasping and coughing as strings of saliva dripped from her mouth. Without a moment’s hesitation, he seized her horns and dragged her head upward, forcing her to meet his piercing gaze. His eyes burned with a mixture of rage and twisted delight, the crescent scar across his face glistening faintly in the dim light.
       —Thou art a disgrace. —He hissed, his voice low and venomous—. A fallen idol, unworthy of mercy. Yet thy punishment is far from complete.
       He took advantage of her sore mouth to finally get his way with it as he had originally intended. Fucking her mouth just as –if not worse than what his brother did.
       Disregarding any form of self-control.
       Aym, still buried deep within her, slowed his pace, his claws digging into her hips as he glanced at his brother with a wicked grin.
       Time passed as the ritual continued, not much changing in terms of their position on each side of the lamb; until eventually Aym wished to change things up.
       —Shall we elevate her suffering, brother? —Aym asked, his voice dripping with cruel anticipation—.
       Baal nodded; his silence more menacing than any words. He reached beneath the altar, his claws scraping against the stone until they found a hidden mechanism. With a low rumble, the altar began to shift, its surface tilting upward until the lamb’s body was elevated, her voluptuous form displayed fully for all to see. Her legs dangled helplessly, her ass thrust into the air as Aym adjusted his grip, resuming his brutal rhythm with renewed vigour; but due to the new angle; his cock went directly into her asshole instead.
       The lamb’s cries grew louder, her voice hoarse and broken as the spines of Aym’s cock tore into her sensitive flesh. Each thrust sent a jolt of pain and pleasure coursing through her, her body betraying her with every shudder and twitch. She tried to claw at the stone, her nails scraping uselessly against its unyielding surface, desperate for something –anything– to anchor her in the storm of sensation.
       Baal, now unable to fuck her mouth once more due to the new position, made his way between the slab and the lamb –and with a silent nod of agreement between brothers, he slid his cock into her pussy, its spines grazing her already hurt cervix and uterus as he pushed deeper. She gagged, saliva building up in her throat, her body convulsing as she was double penetrated, but he held her head firmly in place, his claws tightening around her.
       —Thou wilt serve us both. —He growled, beginning to thrust in time with Aym’s movements behind her—.
       The two brothers found a cruel rhythm, their bodies rocking her back and forth between them like a ragdoll. The lamb’s muffled cries as saliva overflowed her mouth, her tears streaming down her face as she surrendered fully to their domination.
       Above, The One Who Waits observed with an air of detached amusement, his skeletal fingers tracing the edges of the red crown.
       —See how she bends. —He mused aloud, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the chamber—. A creature of sin, moulded by her own desires. This is no punishment –it is her truth unveiled.
       The followers in their cages stirred restlessly, some turning away in shame while others stared, transfixed by the grotesque spectacle. The lamb’s transformation had stripped her of divinity, leaving only a raw, primal being in its wake –a being that now writhed between Aym and Baal, her body a canvas for their wrath.
       Aym’s pace quickened, his breaths growing erratic as he neared his climax once more. The lamb’s ass clenched around him, her own body teetering on the edge of release despite the agony that accompanied it. With a guttural roar, Aym slammed into her one final time, his cock pulsing as he unleashed a torrent of searing cum deep within her. The heat of it burned her scarred insides, drawing a strangled scream from her throat that was quickly silenced by Baal’s unrelenting thrusts.
       As Aym withdrew, his seed dripped from her, staining the floor with a dark, glistening pool. He stepped back, wiping the sweat from his brow as he admired his handiwork. The lamb’s legs trembled violently, her body slumping against the second brother as she struggled to catch her breath.
       But Baal was far from finished.
       —Thou wilt bear the weight of thy sins. —Baal spat, his claws raking down her back as he pounded into her—.
       The spines of his cock reopened the wounds Aym had left, each thrust a fresh wave of torment that pushed the lamb further into submission. Her wool, matted with sweat and blood, clung to her skin, accentuating the curves of her altered form.
       The One Who Waits raised a hand, and the air around the altar shimmered as dark tendrils of energy snaked upward from the stone. They coiled around the lamb’s wrists and ankles, binding her to the altar as Baal continued his assault. The tendrils pulsed with a sinister heat, searing her flesh, and amplifying the sensations coursing through her body.
       —Feel the chains of thy own making. —The One Who Waits intoned, his voice a chilling melody—. Every sin thy cult embraced now binds thee. Every lustful glance, every whispered desire –thy punishment is their legacy.
       The lamb’s mind fractured under the onslaught, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of pain, pleasure, and despair. She could feel the eyes of her followers boring into her, their judgment a weight heavier than the tendrils that held her. She had led them to this moment, her pride and defiance paving the path to her ruin.
       Baal’s movements grew frantic, his claws digging deeper into her hips as he chased his release. The lamb’s body responded despite itself, her pussy tightening around him as a shameful orgasm ripped through her. Her cry was a broken, guttural sound, echoing off the chamber walls as her body convulsed beneath him.
       With a final, savage thrust, Baal climaxed, his cum mixing with Aym’s as it flooded her insides. The burning sensation pushed her over the edge once more, her second orgasm crashing through her like a tidal wave. Her mind collapsed finally, leaving her blank and completely numb, hanging soulless and lifeless as Baal pulled away, leaving her a trembling, dripping mess.
       The brothers stepped back, their chests heaving as they surveyed their work. The lamb lay motionless, her voluptuous form marred by claw marks, bruises, and the glistening evidence of their domination. The tendrils receded, releasing her limbs, but she made no move to rise. Her spirit was broken, her body a testament to her fall.
       The One Who Waits descended from his perch, his skeletal frame towering over the altar as he gazed down at the lamb.
       —Behold thy true form. —He said, his voice a whisper that carried the weight of eternity. —No longer a shepherd, but a sacrificial offering to the sins thou hast sown.
       He turned to Aym and Baal, his eyes glinting with approval.
       —Continue the ritual. —He commanded—. Her punishment is eternal, as is thy duty.
       Aym and Baal exchanged a glance, their expressions hardening as they approached the lamb once more. She whimpered faintly; her body too weak to resist as they lifted her from the altar. Aym hoisted her into his arms, her legs dangling limply as Baal retrieved his sickle, its blade gleaming with malicious intent.
       They carried her to the center of the chamber, where a circle of dark runes had begun to glow faintly in the stone. The One Who Waits raised the red crown, and the runes flared to life, their crimson light bathing the lamb in an eerie glow. The air grew heavy, charged with the power of death and sin as the next phase of the ritual began.
       Aym set her down within the circle, her knees buckling as she crumpled to the ground. Baal knelt beside her, his sickle tracing a slow, deliberate path across her chest, drawing a thin line of blood that mingled with the sweat and cum already coating her skin. She flinched, but the fight had long since left her.
       —Thy flesh is ours to mark. —Baal murmured, his voice a low chant—. Thy soul is ours to claim.
       Aym joined him, his claws raking across her thighs as he began to recite words in a tongue older than time itself. The runes pulsed in response, their light intensifying as the lamb’s body arched involuntarily, a fresh wave of agony coursing through her. The ritual was far from over –her punishment, it seemed, would stretch into eternity, a never-ending cycle of torment and submission.
       Above, her followers wept silently, their faith shattered as the lamb’s cries filled the air once more. The One Who Waits watched, his crown glowing brighter with each passing moment, a silent promise that her suffering would reshape the world in his image.
       And those followers who profoundly enjoyed the spectacle were freed, allowed to approach the tamed lamb. A dozen or so, their robes tattered and eyes alight with twisted reverence, gathered around her.
       —Thou hast revelled in her fall. —The One Who Waits intoned, gesturing toward the lamb’s voluptuous, marred form—. Now partake in her punishment, for she is yours to claim as well.
       Aym and Baal stepped back, their breaths heavy but their expressions unreadable, yielding the lamb to her former flock. The followers surged forward, their hands trembling with anticipation as they surrounded her. One, a wiry figure with wild eyes, seized her horns and yanked her head upward, forcing her to meet their gazes. Another, a stout creature with clawed fingers, ran their hands along her curves, marvelling at the softness of her wool and the firmness of her flesh.
       The lamb bleated weakly, too spent to resist as they began to explore her. Hands groped at her swollen breasts, squeezing until milk dribbled forth, while others traced the scars left by Aym and Baal, their touches rough and possessive. A tall follower, their face obscured by a hood, knelt behind her, and pressed themselves against her dripping entrance, groaning as they thrust inside with abandon. The lamb’s body jolted, a fresh moan escaping her lips as the familiar rhythm of violation resumed, this time at the hands of those she had once led.
       Above, the remaining captives wept or turned away, but the freed followers revelled in their newfound power, their laughter mingling with the lamb’s pained gasps. They took turns, some claiming her mouth, others her ass, their movements frantic and uncoordinated, driven by a lust they had suppressed under her divine rule. The chamber echoed with the wet slap of flesh against flesh, a cacophony of sin that drowned out the last vestiges of her dignity.
       The One Who Waits watched; his satisfaction palpable.
       —Thus, the circle is complete. —He murmured—. Her cult’s desires have forged her fate, and now they feast upon it.
       The lamb’s world narrowed to the press of bodies, the sting of claws, and the relentless heat of their need. She was no longer their shepherd, but their prize –a fallen idol broken and remade for their pleasure.
2


