1 comments/ 37775 views/ 12 favorites Cold Stone By: julie_hypnotic This one was written expressly for Lita, by request. Lita raised her head as consciousness returned. The full moon shone in her eyes and no sound aside from the occasional whisper of wind-blown leaves reached her ears. Where am I? She wondered, not quite able to discern her surroundings. There was no hint of fear, no apprehension, just a dull ache in the small of her back and a persistent throb in her crotch. Her wits returned a little at a time, and she saw that she was in a clearing surrounded by large, graceful pines with the alluring scent of honeysuckle filling her senses. Naked and alone, she watched the trees sway above her, startled by the desire that coursed through her body. The branches tumbled overhead, as if beckoning to forces unknown to the girl. She trembled. Underneath her, the cold stone slab she lay upon soon warmed from the heat of her body and she knew she hadn’t been there very long. Her wrists and ankles were anchored somehow to this monument… (alter?) … and she found she could only move a few inches up or down. No side to side movement was allowed no matter how she tried. At last becoming alarmed, she sought to free herself from her bonds, tugging and twisting with all her might. For her trouble, she received sharp pain and blood flow as the ropes that secured her bit deeper into her skin. Exhausted, she lay still. Distant voices began to filter through to her and she looked around, though there was nothing to see. Lita panicked, struggling harder as the voices neared, yet excited by this unknown approach. She wondered if she was dreaming. Sending her dark hair flying, she shook her head from side-to-side. Still, the voices, the chanting, and the dreamy quality persisted. Frustrated, she lay still and waited as her heart pounded hard inside her chest. At last, the limbs parted and the source of the voices began to emerge. She counted five of them. All men, all bald, and all wearing dark robes. Her vaginal muscles began to contract around nothing more than insubstantial air as they approached, heads down, chanting softly. Lita calmed herself, floating on a wispy cloud of need. She relaxed her body as the feeling that this had happened before took over. The leader of the robed men… (priests?) … approached, carrying a tray and not meeting her gaze. He spoke softly and though the words were unrecognizable, she felt the power they contained. He bent, set the tray down and looked her full in the face. She gasped. His eyes were dark, bent on some inner thought, some divine aspect of the scene that Lita could not grasp. He emanated warmth and brought a hand above her prone body. It held a flask. The other priests gathered close, still whispering their soft words and not looking upon her. The front of their robes stood out straight and Lita realized they all sported massive erections. Helplessly, a groan escaped her lips. The leader spoke, “I am Morgan. We are here to draw the Divine One, and you will help us. Know this…” and his eyes bored into her, “before this night is through, each of these priests will have used your body. You may not enjoy all of this attention, but you will be rewarded with a place by His side for eternity. A bride you will be, to further His line.” Chanting again, he tilted the bottle and tiny drops of cold red wine splattered upon Lita's flesh. The robes were removed and the priests approached. They touched her body, drawing circles in the wine, pulling it along her skin as if she were a canvas upon which they painted. She watched fearfully as their huge cocks bobbed up and down but she felt herself grow moist with lust. Their hypnotic chanting drove the seed of desire further through her soul, until she ached for some untold penetration. Morgan emptied his flask onto her skin and each of the priests took a turn at a new flask, drinking deeply and uttering harsh cries as the laced spirits entered their bloodstreams. Morgan took hold of Lita and dragged her up the length of cold stone until her head dangled from its end. He threw off his robe with a flourish and brandished, in one hand, his huge penis. His eyes were slits, impossible to read, and he forced her lips open with a hand on her chin. Lita gulped air and attempted to squirm away but he held her fast and brought the head of his cock near her mouth. She fought. Disoriented and frightened, she struggled as the invading appendage sought its way through her lips. The scent of him was maddening; her body betrayed her as his penile orifice produced a single drop of clear, unbearably sweet fluid that coated her lips and whetted her appetite. More! Her body begged. More! Weakening from the power of her desire, she tried once more to force her head away, but Morgan muttered under his breath and gave a vicious thrust. She gagged and tried to twist clear, but he was strong and she was helpless. Smoothly, his cock split her lips, floated across her tongue, and probed the tenderest part of her throat, along the way exciting every nerve ending she possessed. The continued murmurs of the priests soothed her terror and hungrily, she gave in, accepting Morgan's cock. The lesser priests’ touches grew more frenzied. They pushed and prodded at Lita, drawing their hands up and down her limbs and breathing loudly. One of them encircled her tight nipples and began to pump. Up and down the fingers flew, causing her to cry out against the cock in her mouth, begging her captors for more. More hands, more touches, more everything, and soon as if in answer to her cries, a finger trailed its way up the hot skin of her thigh. She held her breath, suffering the unending barrage of ruthless thrusts as Morgan’s slick member scraped the roof of her mouth. She desperately wanted that floating finger to press harder and enter her deepest cavity. Morgan grew impatient with her confusion. He slipped free and tilted the flask above her face until cool red liquid filled Lita’s mouth. She choked and tried to spew the offending fluid from her lips, but Morgan’s hand covered her from nose to chin and she was forced to drink. After her struggles quieted and her mind grew foggy, he slid his cock back inside her mouth and gave a small groan of satisfaction. Below her, the priests were growing frantic. She heard their muffled moans and felt their wandering hands. A hot blast of lust filled her body as the drug sped through her system, and she thrust her hips rapidly, seeking the ultimate culmination. Without her awareness, her lips became a circle and her throat a vacuum as she sought to empty Morgan of his most vital force. Sucking deeply, she allowed him to maneuver until the entirety of his cock was seated in her throat. His face was a grimace of pleasure as he gave in to the base, human desires inside him. Roughly, he grasped her throat and pumped his hips. Lita moaned as his cock left her airway. She sucked in huge gulps of air and lifted her head in search of his meat. Morgan gave a grim smile and obliged her by slipping back inside. Her body was truly on fire. She burned with need and whimpered between the energy charged thrusts that Morgan delivered. The priests became more familiar with her and she felt one of them take her hand and wrap it around his penis. She gripped and allowed him to control the pressure of her fingers as she succumbed to an orgy of lust and ran her fingers through his precum. Another priest began to slide his cock against the outside of her right thigh. She quivered in sensory overload. A word from Morgan and all movement aside from his stopped. He bore down, leaning slightly forward while the other priests watched, and moved his cock swiftly in and out of her lips. Groaning in protest, and silently willing the others to touch her once more, Lita sucked hard, hoping that her earnest attention would be returned. She felt his hot skin rush across her tongue; she felt its texture and the insistent way it throbbed within her mouth. His release was nearing, she could tell, yet she wished to delay it and so allowed her teeth to touch down at the base of his shaft. Morgan gasped and tried to break free, but Lita held on as if her life depended on it. Morgan’s hands snaked down to her neck once more and his grip grew tight and hard. She could not breathe against his clutches, but the fire in her pussy was building to an undeniable plateau. She wanted to cum more than anything. Working her muscles as best she could, Lita clenched her thighs and rocked hard, knowing that climax for her was imminent if left to her own devices for just a moment longer. But Morgan was insistent. He choked her harder and tightened his ass, loosening her hold and sending the head of his cock the last few measures into her throat. He slipped past her tonsils until his pubic hair pressed roughly into her chin, his heavy testicles charging her senses with their sharp, sexual aroma. Lita struggled as the world around her grew dark, yet her cunt knew victory for as the darkness crept closer, she exploded in pleasure, writhing helplessly upon the cold stone, her pussy clutching frantically at empty air. Morgan flexed his cock in her throat a few times then withdrew. Gradually, her breath returned and the world grew light once more. “Watch, my brethren.” Morgan’s voice was husky with desire. “Watch closely, for the Master has gifted me with a volume unlike any of you have ever witnessed. I will drown this girl in my seed and you will all enjoy watching her drink from me.” Lita returned to the task at hand, her body temporarily sated. She opened her throat, emitting tiny moans, and relished the feel of Morgan’s cock reclaiming the warmth it had just relinquished. Her excited mind imagined the picture she made, saliva running down her face as that spectacular cock fitted itself perfectly into her oral opening. Lust began to grow within her again, and she thirsted for the Divine Drink she knew was coming. Still holding her neck with both of his hands, Morgan fucked deeply into her mouth. Lita rejoiced and took all that he gave her, mindless of the need for air or the world around them. Without warning, he withdrew again and left her mouth hollow and cold. Lita cried out and lifted her face in devotion, but Morgan only stared. “The Master does not like games little one. Do not test Him, or me, for you will regret it. Do you want me inside your mouth?" He asked. "Speak!” “Yes! Please, give it back to me," she begged. He laughed and his eyes darkened, but he benevolently slipped back into her warmth, sighing as she engulfed him without hesitation. “Pump my brothers. Pump yourselves hard for there will be more to expend inside the body of this girl.” The priests gathered close, each one lifting his cock and stroking it in her direction. Lita squirmed, attempting to inch closer, longing to feel the shower of seed that would soon cover her body. Silently, they pumped hard, coaxing their juice to begin the rise from testicles, to cock, to Lita. Morgan was in control and she willingly gave to him what should have been hers alone. He filled her mouth with his hardness, and she groaned her encouragement. Quickly, he pressed into her, slowly, he retracted, and Lita knew depths of frustration she had never felt before. She concentrated, watching his face for signs of climax for her thirst had reached enormous proportions. “It is coming little one. Your drink, your elixir, your glorious birth fluid. Prepare yourself, child.” He wheezed, his voice low and deep. Lita responded by sucking harder, caressing his shaft with velvet strokes of her slick tongue, her throat truly becoming a soul vacuum. Her eyes grew wide as she felt him expand in her mouth, causing her lips to stretch until they began to crack. His balls were tight and hot against her forehead and she readied herself, her cunt once more wet and craving penetration. Oh, to have this monster inside me, she thought, and her voice reduced itself to a needy whimper as she gurgled around his member. Guttural groans slipped from Morgan’s throat. He buried his trembling meat in her mouth and allowed his fingers to caress her cheeks. “Yes, my child. It comes. He comes. Drink!” He hissed. And then he was squirting and Lita was struggling to keep up. Again and again, thick streams of creamy semen flew from his cock. He let go his control for a spell, seeming to sway on his feet and punctuate his pleasure with cries that climbed in tone and timbre until his voice was but a long hiss of savage lust. Recovering enough to move, he worked his hips, driving his ejaculating shaft deeper than ever and watching her squirm to take it all. When her lips could contain no more and her throat could no longer keep up, the viscous white fluid overflowed in enticing rivers of white and trailed down her cheeks. She coughed a little and an inch of him retracted, allowing her to draw enough air to suckle once more. And suckle she did, thirsty, insane with lust, and craving him with all her energy. Letting his head fall back in pleasure, Morgan signaled quietly and four pairs of hands began to open her thighs. Still she drank, swallowing rapidly to consume every ounce of the supreme liquid offered to her. The priests opened her and their hands inched higher. Lita jerked as they found her cunt, each one tugging hard at her lips, her clitoris, her entire cunt. She lifted her hips the few inches her bonds allowed and her legs fell open. Savagely, fingers began to enter her and she welcomed each fiery touch. Ignoring the pain, almost welcoming it, she made herself be still through the abuse and at last, one hand found and stayed with her swollen clitoris. Lita closed her eyes, swallowing endless jets of Morgan’s cum as that lone hand stroked intently. The rest of the world was forgotten. There was only Morgan, his delicious cock, his followers, and the pleasure that blasted her nerve endings. It rolled over her slowly, building to a high, then spreading through her body, and still Morgan came. Just when the rise grew to be unbearable, Lita fell hard into orgasm. Morgan slipped free and showered her with the rest of his seed, the priests following suit while still ravaging her, and soon Lita was cumming ceaselessly, quivering as the pleasure grew, relishing the feel of milky semen splashing her body. All but one of the priests ejaculated onto her. The one who touched her clitoris, giving her the gift of unselfish pleasure, merely continued to stroke. Lita gasped and lurched against her bonds, forgetting about the inevitable blood, and searching for his face. As she settled down, her cunt releasing fluid in short blasts, she smiled at him tenderly and felt love grow in her breast. “You! You have been chosen. Enter her now so that He may enter you.” Morgan commanded of Lita’s thoughtful lover as the rest of the priests pushed her body down until her buttocks hung just off of the opposite end of the alter. Two of them lifted her legs and spread her open until she moaned in pain. She was exposed, her pussy ready for penetration, her body hungry for it. The young man paused at her feet and drew his hands up the soft thigh flesh that lay open for him. He caressed her so tenderly that tears filled Lita's eyes. Morgan issued a warning and commanded the other priests to give her lover another drink from the tainted flask. Lita understood that the result would likely mean her lover’s tenderness would disappear, but her pussy was burning too hot to care. All she wanted was to be fucked and fucked hard. The man growled and threw his head back, the drug releasing his primal lust. When he looked at her again, his eyes glittered darkly. Lita gulped and held her breath. His tenderness was indeed gone. He bent forward and drove his cock into her. Hard and fast, he penetrated and pushed until blood flowed from inside her. Lita screamed, the pain sharp and punishing, but the pleasure intense beyond words. She shoved back at him, wishing to lift her legs and lock them about his waist until her own momentum matched his, but her bonds pulled her back into place and her cuts ran freely. Even so confined, Lita's fucking was fierce. Mindless of the pain and blood, she struggled to take him all the way into her pussy. Without reservation, she gave every bit of her body over to him, and to Morgan, and to the rest of her naked priests. Her groans were loud and hot, inciting the priests to fresh frenzy as her lust engorged vocal cords rendered her sounds husky. Morgan chanted once more and the moon slid behind a cloud. Above her, the unknown man slowed his pace, hissing his pleasure out in tiny moans before ceasing all movement. As Lita gazed at him, his face grew as still as the stone upon which she lay and his eyes lit up as if a force had taken him. "No!" she cried, "please no! Fuck me. I beg you, please fuck me!" "Hush girl." Morgan whispered. "We tire of your prattle. Lucas is infused now, filled with His Presence. Feel It enter you. Feel It change you, and be grateful. We haven't long to wait now." Lucas jerked once, sending his still swollen cock back into her pussy. She sighed at first and moved closer, but then she saw the man above her start to change. His face twisted into a parody of himself as he began to transform. His eyes were amber points of light that cast reflections upon her blood smeared skin and his head seemed to grow large before her gaze. "No, no. What's happening?" Lita whispered. Lucas glared at her and Morgan uttered a warning for silence. She obeyed, turned on and revolted at the same time, as her lover became... something else. "Watch brothers. Watch and see. Know that the time is at hand. This night will be the mark, indeed the anniversary, of a new world and this brave girl makes it possible." Morgan chanted. Lucas growled and Lita saw twin points... (horns?) ...emerge from his scalp. She screamed and tried to twist free, abandoning her desire, her need, her lust. Fear had overcome those things and escape was all that she could think of. Lucas placed his hand upon her mouth to silence her. He leaned close and nuzzled his face into her neck as his transformation continued. She laid still and quiet, only her gasps for breath and pounding heart rending the silence. When next she looked upon him, the man Lucas was gone, and the demon Lucas stood in his place. Lita swooned and fell into unconsciousness. (wake up) (awake, my bride) (do not be afraid. come to me now) She wanted to sleep. Her body was tired and uncomfortable, but hands tugged at her; they moved her; they lifted her; they repositioned her. Very slowly, she opened her eyes. The moon was clear of the clouds, lighting the clearing and revealing all in awesome detail. Looking first at her body, she saw that the ropes were gone. Decorating her flesh were countless cuts, some tiny, some large, and blood shone starkly against the white of her skin. It was still fresh, still running, and the sight of it stirred her libido once more. I bled for you, my darling (I know) I bleed still (Yes, my queen) I want to bleed more. For you. (You will) Lita raised her eyes and smiled upon her Love. Lucas returned the smile, though His was more a grimace. Together they spoke, but only the two of them could hear. Around them, the priests were bowed and resting on their knees in worship. Lita struggled to sit and Lucas assisted her gently. "Did we...?" she began. "No. You must be awake for that, but my patience wears thin. I yearn to complete the act." "Me too, Lucas." Lucas inclined his head toward Morgan in signal and together the priests lifted her body and turned her over while Lucas stood in waiting. Lita's heart beat swiftly against her ribcage and she could not halt her shivers of anticipation. She did not know what was going to happen to her; she knew only compliance and an eagerness to serve. Cold Stone Floor Cold stone floor. Dark room. Her shoulders already aching from the restraints, leather wrist binders held tight with chrome buckles. A silk rope tied through the silver D-rings attached to large bolts in the floor. Holding her arms out at an angle from her body, she kneels naked, vulnerable and unable to move. Her knees pressing into the cold stone floor, milky white, smooth thighs parted, her arse sitting back on her feet, her hairless pussy already glistening, slick with anticipation. Her head lifted proudly, her deep green eyes lowered in submission to Him as she hears His approaching footsteps. Closing her eyes and holding her breath she waits. Listening to His steps ring out, echoing more through her mind than the room as He walks closer. She is almost unable to contain her excitement, but she is well trained. The only betrayal of what she is feeling shown in the quickening of her shallow breaths, the hardening of her pierced nipples as she thinks not on the pain that may be visited upon her this evening, but on the exquisite pleasure of knowing that she has pleased Him and found favour in His sight. The knowledge that she exists only for this purpose. She closes her emerald green eyes as she hears Him step into the room. Her plump, pink lips curling into a smile as her heart seems to jump with the knowledge that her time is close. He has chosen her and she offers herself totally to Him, trusting Him implicitly with every fibre of her being. Knowing that He will nurture and protect her as she offers her gift of submission to Him. She catches her breath softly as she realises He has walked over to her while she was lost in thought. She fights the urge to glance up and sneak a look at His face, fixing her eyes instead on the shine of His black leather shoes at the bottom of His woollen pant legs. He is wearing the same business suit He wore when they first met. She smiles to herself, thinking about the look in His eyes that day. How that lust and need to possess her grew into pride at her submission to Him over time. The joy that lights His cool grey eyes, unnoticed to those who do not know Him as she does, but plain to her, who searches for His response in all that she does. She who strives to please Him in every action. She feels Him waiting. Frowning at herself as she realises that once again she became lost in her own thoughts, she turns her mind to the task at hand. Pulling her shoulders back, she winces slightly as the restraints tighten at her wrists, she lifts her head a little more, tilting her face up to him, smiling as she feels His eyes trace over her restrained form. She keeps her gaze lowered to the floor, her eyes dropped as a sign of respect to Him. She hears Him speak. His voice melting over her like rich velvet chocolate, the well of need deep inside her overflowing at the sound of His words. "Are you ready, my one?" She remembers her first lesson with Him. That questions are best answered through action, not word, and she opens her mouth, parting her pale pink lips, her wet tongue plays over them quickly, wetting them for Him. She waits. "Mmm... good girl." She feels Him look down at her and desperately wants to glance up into His eyes, but she doesn't dare move until He gives direction. She holds her breath as He unzips His pants, His thick stiff cock springing into her view. She runs her wet tongue lightly across her lips again, barely able to stay still as the desire to hold Him in her warm soft mouth runs through her. Her breath catches softly in her throat as He wraps His hand around the base of His shaft and taps her on the forehead with it. She tilts her head to Him slowly, her eyes tracing up His body, drinking in the sight of His face, sending a shudder through her petite body as she meets his gaze. Her eyes do not waver from His gaze as He traces the shiny head of His engorged cock over her soft pink lips. She darts her tongue out quickly to wet her lips again, the back of her tongue flicking briefly against the tip of His shaft. She sees His eyes un-focus as His cock jumps at her touch, His lips curling into a smirk and her heart skips to know what pleasure she is bringing Him. He traces His fingers through her thick brown hair and she feels them twist, taking hold as He thrusts His hips towards her face slowly. She sucks His cock into her wet mouth, moaning softly at the salty taste of His pre-cum on her tongue as she slips it around the head. Her tongue piercing brushing over the hole and pressing into the bundle of nerves under the tip of Him. She feels His fingers tighten almost painfully in her hair as He growls softly, pushing further into her hungry mouth, the head of His thick shaft pushing into the back of her throat. She holds her breath for Him, consciously willing Her tight throat to take Him, stretching around the head. She swallows around His cock, her tongue flattened and working along the bottom of it as her tongue stud traces quickly over the nerve endings. She hears His growl deepen and rumble through his throat as she purrs deep, sending shocks of vibrations through His shaft, turning His low growl into a moan and causing Him to tighten His grip in her hair. He pulls her head back hard and looks down at her, staring deep into her eyes, His own filled with the lust of His possession. He steps back from her and she feels her long brown curls sweep down her back as He lets go of them, only to grab her face, His hand cupped around her chin. His lips curl into a sneer as he looks down at her, His grip tightening along her jaw before releasing as He steps back. "your face to the floor, My precious little slut." She obeys without a moments hesitation, leaning forwards so that her face is pressed to the cold stone floor, her firm arse high in the air, the restraints pulling making her shoulders burn as the muscles stretch to accommodate his wishes. She arches her back slightly and then presses her face closer to the ground. Her forehead resting on the stones, her eyes focused on a tiny chip in the stonework as her mind slips further into subspace, she concentrates only on the sound of His breathing, her lips curling to a slight smile as she hears His breath quicken almost imperceptibly. Hearing Him take something from the cabinet and walk back towards her she is tempted to glance behind her, aching with curiosity as to what He has chosen for His pleasure. Closing her eyes to temptation, she feels Him standing behind her and holds her breath. She waits trustingly for Him and is rewarded by the teasingly soft trace of the leather tag on His crop inching slowly along her spine. Her breath catches in her throat in a barely heard whimper as He guides the crop downwards, brushing the loop of soft leather between the cleft of her firm arse cheeks, teasing lower. A soft low moan slips past her trembling lips as she arches her back again and tries to push back against the crop as it teases, lightly brushing against her wetness. She hears His soft chuckle as she squirms before Him, moaning her need. She feels the crop lift from her slick pussy lips for a moment before snapping down hard enough to make her strain forward in the restraints, whimpering as she bites into the fullness of her bottom lip feeling the warm biting sting of the crop against her cunt, the tag snapping at her swollen clit as He brings it down sharply again. He steps closer behind her and she feels the light pressure of his shin against her aching need as He slips His foot between her slick thighs. Her eyes closed, she pictures the victorious smirk playing over His lips as He looks down at her and enjoys the view of His as she writhes wantonly before Him, her every movement begging for His touch. She gasps softly, moaning a breathless whimper as He lifts his foot, bring the cool leather top of his shoe up against her wet cunt lips. Her round arse moving only slightly as the restraints stop her from grinding against His foot. She pants softly, groaning as frustration overcomes her better judgement and she speaks, whispering... "please.. Please Master.. Please Sir.." Her whimpering pleas cut off as He brings the crop down hard against her arse cheeks, raising a hot red mark where her milky flesh was bitten by the harsh strike. She cries out and silently curses her lack of discipline for speaking when not permitted and displeasing Him. Holding back a shuddering sob, she whispers her thanks for His loving discipline and returns her mind to thoughts of pleasing Him. Unaware of anything but her need and His power to relieve it, her breath comes in short whispering pants she desperately tries to push back against the cool smooth leather as He slowly lifts his foot again. Feeling the pressure against her heat she strains back in the restraining cuffs, wincing and moaning at the burning in her shoulders. He smiles, sensing her increased urgency as she pulls against His restraints. She struggles, yearning at once for the freedom to take what she needs, yet also submitting totally to His will to hold it from her, teasing her with the promises of fulfilment to come. He grinds His foot up against her swollen cunt and she shudders, waves of electric heat rolling through her as her body tightens, threatening to step over the precipice into sweet release but dares not without His permission. He brings the crop against her arse hard, stinging harshly as it bites into soft flesh, raising a reddened welt. She growls as her lust for Him threatens to overwhelm her, her body throbbing as it aches for the touch of His skin. He leans forwards over her and gathers her hair at the base of her neck, twisting his hand through it He winds it into a soft, thick rope and pulls, dragging her body back against Him. Her back arches as her aching cunt grinds against the top of His shoe. She bites hard into her bottom lip to focus her mind, moaning loudly as she tastes the warm metallic tang of her own blood, the bitter-sweet taste lifting her excitement almost unbearably. He grinds His foot up against her hard as He twists the thick rope of her hair around her slender milky-white throat. Leaning down to her, His lips curl at the sound of her gasping moans as she writhes against Him in her need. He presses His mouth to her ear and growls low, His voice coursing through her, causing her cunt to tighten in exquisite pain as she bites into her lip again. "Cum for Me now, My cunt." He pulls hard back on her hair as her body strains to fall forwards, her hips bucking down as much as she can manage against the strong restraints as she rubs her spasming sex wildly against Him. He lifts His foot more, increasing the pressure as she starts to cry out until He cuts off her cries by pulling hard on the leash of her hair, cutting off her ragged breaths. She bites harder against her lip as her muscles tighten, achingly exploding in wave after wave of hot pleasure. She feels her slickness running down over His shoe as she thrashes against the restraints. Her body overwhelmed as the sensations coursing through her are heightened by her lack of oxygen. As her orgasm plateaus He releases His grip on her hair, and she gasps for sweet air, moaning as her body spasms again at the feel of the coolness hitting her lungs. She falls forwards, slumping against the floor as He lets her hair slip through His fingers, she is barely aware of the strain in her shoulders as she lays trembling before Him, whimpering her thanks. She hears Him chuckle softly as He steps around her. Standing before her, He presses His foot under her face and she obediently begins to lap. Her soft panting moans increasing as she tastes herself against the leather of His shoe, cleaning up her mess. Cold Stone Tomb I was fighting to come up from a great depth, swimming hard against the current, trying to force my eyes open. "I want to live," I moaned, although whether internally, to myself only, or out loud, I did not know. "But I want this too. Deeper, thicker. Stretch me, possess me. Wrap your dick around my heart and squeeze me. Harder, deeper. Moooaaan. I want to melt into you, ride your dick forever." I fought up into consciousness. Belly against the cold stone of the mossy tomb surface. The monster of a cock deep inside my ass, growing, thickening, pulsing, rhythmically fucking me as I've never been fucked before. A heavily muscled, pulsating body covering my back, with a powerful arm around my chest, forcing my arms above my head, holding me powerless with the strength of a lion, far greater strength than I had. And my strength ebbing. Sharp nails at my buttocks, skewering me to the surface of the cold stone tomb. Lips at my stretched neck. No, more than lips. Teeth at my neck, incised into my flesh. Blood trickling down my neck, but not all, not most. Most being sucked up into his mouth with a pulsing, gurgling noise. A rhythm matching my quickened heartbeat. Blood dribbling down my side from the fingernails dug in my buttocks. Blood dripping on the surface of the tomb from the slashes on my chest, from when, spent with running, already under him, being fucked, I turned on him and he slashed my shirt off me with broad, violent sweeps of his sharp fingernails. I can feel my life ebbing. And I want to live. "I want to live," I cry out. But I want the glorious fuck too. Never like this before. The ultimate. I want it to go on forever and ever. Naked on the stone, both of us naked. But covered, covered by his black satin cape. Rhythmic rise and fall of the bodies, in unison, under the billowing cloak. Undulating up and down to the rhythm of my heartbeat, to the rhythm of the sucking at my neck, to the rhythm of the fuck. Sighing, groaning, moaning. I want to live. Fighting now, writhing under him, feeling my life ebb, my limbs going numb. The probing cock growing and growing, filling me to splitting. Wanting to live but wanting the fuck to go on. I had dressed for the fuck. It was All Hallows Eve, and the streets of New Orleans were filled with drunken revelers, many in garish costume. All on the make. I had walked into the French Quarter for the fuck. I had entered the Club Fantastic for the fuck. I had even looked at him from across the room, conveying "fuck me" to him. He returned a level, knowing stare that sent shivers up my spine. And a wicked smile that had me turning and walking quickly out of the club and out of the quarter, and up Promenade, my pace quickening, my panic growing. I was at a jog, afraid he was behind me—at the same time afraid and hoping he was behind me—almost like I could feel him loping along in my wake, easily covering the ground at my own pace even though I was panting and my lungs were beginning to burn. I was in shape; I was in terrific shape. But I was running scared. Yes, running now, because at a corner, with a black sedan sweeping by, not offering any help, any sanctuary, I turned my head and saw him back there—pacing me. His cloak held tightly to his chest but billowing out at the side. The veins of my neck were pulsating. I had never had that sensation before. The blood was boiling and I was so hot, ever so hot. At the entrance of a cemetery, I stopped, dead in my tracks, my mind suddenly telling me that this was what I had come for. Over the weeks, days, months, I had sought continuously more arousing encounters, bigger cocks, more-public fuckings, the erotically exotic. I had heard that Club Fantastic had it—something special, something not of this world. Whispered rumors, secret looks, nodding heads. Hints that All Hallows Eve was the time to be there. Normal sex was boring me. I wanted the exotic. I wanted a jolt. I was panting in fear, but also in arousal and excitement. Turning, I saw that he had stopped too. He was grinning at me. What had been handsome and dark and alluring was morphing into a skull, a grinning scull. His mouth opened and he laughed. He raised his arms up and out, flinging the cape wide. Underneath he was stark naked. His body was magnificent, a Zeus of men, and his cock was the most monstrous I'd ever seen, in full erection. I should have been frightened, scared out of my wits. But already, even from that distance, he was controlling me, causing me to calm down, to bow to the inevitable. To want it. I had come to the club because I had wanted it. I did not believe it was possible to reach new heights of satisfaction. But here, now, I believed. I knew, intuitively, that it came at a great cost. And still I wanted it. I could hear as well as feel the pulsating of blood in the veins of my neck now, rushing to my head. I turned and walked, slowly now, into the cemetery. Down a narrow asphalt trail to the older section of the cemetery, where the tombs were big stone boxes, raised off the ground. I chose one half obscured by the weeping branches of an ancient oak—tomb moss covered, tree draped in Spanish moss. I turned when I reached the tomb, deliberately, and he stopped twenty yards from me, on the asphalt path, and gave me a sardonic look, cupping his cock in his hand, waiting for me, although I had no idea what he was waiting for—other than that I somehow knew that if I made any move to leave—to escape—at this point, the effort would be fruitless. I knew I already was under his power. I shivered, in delicious fear. I unzipped my jeans and peeled them off my legs. Then I stripped off my bikini briefs and slipped off my loafers. I wasn't wearing socks. I started to unbutton my shirt. He was on me in a flash, making guttural animalist noises. He lifted me by my arms in a superhuman grip and slammed the small of my back down on the tomb surface, moving his hands to my thighs, and splitting them apart in the same swift movement that he split my ass with a massive up thrust of his huge cock. I howled in pain, panic, shock, and glorious satisfaction. We were both howling to the wind, in harmony, each getting instant satisfaction. This! This was what I came out to find tonight. He pistoned me hard and fast and deep, as I writhed under him, never having had anything like this in all of my years of seeking. I was well used and slack, but I was quickly filled and stretched and near to splitting to limits I'd never known before. I spilled my seed quickly and then lay back and moaned as he worked me like a jackhammer on its way to the center of the earth. He leaned over me and sought my mouth with his and brutally kissed me. I bit his lip and laughed, reveling in the rough sex. But he reared up and scowled at me, his eyes going yellow as a dribble of blood laced down to his chin. And suddenly he notched up his wild man performance. He lashed out at my chest with his fingernails, shredding my shirt and then slashing my chest. He lowered his head on my chest, and I heard the sounds of slurping and felt the heat of his tongue and the sting of the slashings—until I cried out and arched my back as his teeth sliced into the rim of one of my nipples and he began to feed in more earnest. The pumping of his cock matched the rhythm of his sucking of my nipple, and I found myself moving with the rhythm and feeling more pleasure than pain in the sucking. He lifted his head and pulled his cock out of my channel, and I turned and scrambled up onto the surface of the tomb, ready to break this unearthly encounter and flee now that I had ejaculated, had satisfied myself—titillated by the experience, but enough was enough. This was the direction he wanted me to go in, though, and he scrambled up onto the tomb with me, covering me from behind, one of his arms wrapped around my chest and pinning my arms above my head, sinking fingernails into my buttocks, spreading them, and thrusting his cock inside me once more. I whimpered and pled with him. He laughed and I felt his lips at the side of my neck and then I cried out as his teeth sliced into flesh and he found a vein. "I want to live," I murmured. "I want to live." I felt myself going, my eyes closing, a great sigh floating over me. A blinding light jerked me out of my reverie. It did more than that to my assailant. He was off me in an instant and crouching at the dark side of the tomb, covered with his cape and whining in a high-pitched tone. A vehicle was going through the cemetery, pointing a strong floodlight here and there. It's light had swept across us, but nothing else was happening, so whoever was driving it wasn't alarmed, hadn't discerned the meaning of the undulating back cape covering my assailant and me. With a groan I lay back, full length, on the top of the tomb, unable to move, trying to collect my wits and my strength. The light rolled across me again, at which point I must have looked like I was just part of the tomb, a sculptor's depiction of the departed occupant of the chamber below me. As I gathered myself, a great, heavy sensation of disappointment and want descended on me. It wasn't anything I could have even begun to describe. But it was a feeling of loss, a feeling that I had now experienced it all—that there was no "up" from here, no chance of greater fulfillment, of deeper satisfaction. I lowered an arm over the side of the tomb, on the dark side. Reaching for it—for him—for whatever. It wasn't something I wanted to do. It scared me witless. It wasn't something I should seek, should have anything to do with, I knew. I should be ecstatic that I had had this brush with the overpowering and had escaped it. But had I? Was it already too late? What was there after this? My lowered hand felt . . . nothing. I rolled over and looked down. Nothing. No one. Had it even happened? Yes, certainly. My body was ravished, both externally and internally. I lay there, bringing my breath back to normal—or as close as I could in the circumstances. I tried to pull up gratefulness, relief, adrenalin from a tragedy avoided. Nothing. I felt nothing of that. What I felt was loss. When I felt that I could walk, I struggled down off the surface of the tomb, leaned down—and almost falling over as I did so—retrieved my jeans and briefs. I was too exhausted, too weak to put them on. Then I walked, struggling to stay erect as I moved—disoriented. I wasn't walking toward the cemetery entrance; I was walking farther into the cemetery, into the older part, into the section where an asphalt path had never been blazed through. He was stretched out on another tomb, much like the first one. Just laying there, his head propped up on his elbow and the heel of his hand. Watching me with a steady, sardonic look on his face. He was still in magnificent erection. I walked slowly to the tomb. I was too weak to climb up on it, but he reached down and helped me up. It was clear he wanted me to give myself to him now. To seek the ultimate fuck. It was no gamble and I'm sure he knew that. I was his now. But for some reason he wanted me to make the sacrifice. He lay back, his enormous erection pointed at the branches of the trees overhead, and I straddled his hips, impaled my channel on his staff, and rode him to a mutual ejaculation. He held, just for me, I was sure, so that we would come together. He was perpetually hard, and I had learned from the previous fucking that he could ejaculate at well and continuously and copiously. He smiled benignly, his features becoming more human again, supremely handsome and virile, as we both enjoyed this interlude of my willing sacrifice of myself to him. When we had both come, he heightened the experience, slowly taking control again, stretching me out along his body, my back cuddled into his front. He lifted my thigh with one of his hands, and I felt the long, strong, slide inside me of his monster cock. And then he started again inside me. This time different. Just as magnificent and satisfying, but slow, deep, with long strokes that had me gulping each time his bulbous glans kissed the rim of my ass and then gasping as it slid deep inside my intestines. Gulp, gasp. Gulp, gasp. I felt the bulb of his cock at the back of my throat—or imagined I did. Surely that was just an hallucination, but I swore that I could feel the passage of him through my body, widening my channel, bringing total meaning to full possession. His other hand cupped my chin and stretched out my neck to his slicing teeth. He fucked me in rhythm to the sucking at my neck to the rhythm of my beating heart to the ebbing away of my very being. I came, not once but twice—to a passionate cry first, and then to a quiet, weak sigh, as his cock plumbed my depths and his mouth lapped up my life—his cum flowing continuously now, running out of my channel and down the sides of the tomb, hissing as it reached the ground. I never wanted this to stop. The never-ending fuck, into eternity. Deep, filling, glorious. "I want to . . ." I murmured, but I couldn't remember what I wanted—beyond the never-ending fuck. I felt the beating of my heart thumping louder and louder in my ears, the sound rolling over me in waves. So cold; I was so cold. I had been so hot, but now I was cold. I felt his body tense, ready to explode—and then an earth-shattering ejaculation, unlike his previous constant flow. Again and again and again. I was being flooded inside by his boiling cum, burbling up his still-thrusting cock, out of my hole and onto my thighs. I felt . . . * * * * I was warm, perhaps warm for the first time since that last All Hallows Eve night. Only now was I fully recovered from the experience on this night one year past. Too warm. I lay in my bed, entwined in the sheets, first covering myself and then pushing them away. It was too warm in the room; the revolving fan not helping—neither in the weak breeze it provided nor in the wonk, wonk, wonk of its revolving blades. I knew it wasn't the unseasonably hot October New Orleans night that was keeping me awake. It was the longing, the yearning. I had been dissatisfied ever since that night. Yearning. No man had satisfied me. I had searched, returning again and again to the Club Fantastic, even though knowing that it was no use. That it never was that night, the All Hallows Eve night. I had stopped looking, having to will myself to stop and disgusted with myself and, with time, letting the fear of it overshadow the incredible pleasure. I had tried to forget, throwing myself, with little satisfaction, at any big-cocked man who would possess me. The cock had to be huge or I didn't feel a thing. I had thought the fever of it had melted away from me. I was wrong. I knew now that I was just waiting for All Hallows Eve. The veins at my neck began to pulsate, the blood yearning to be freed. This sensation had not swept over me for a year. Was that a beckoning murmur I heard behind the wonk, wonk of the overhead fan? I rose from my bed, prepared myself for what I hoped and yearned for, pulled on a T and a pair of old, tight, worn jeans, and left my room, letting my eyes roam around the walls reflecting back my all-to-brief life, perhaps for the last time. I walked into the French Quarter as I had so many time before. The streets were aswirl with costumed revelers, just as they had been before. I was looking for the fuck, as I had so many times before. But, no, not like so many times before. Not for the same fuck. Not for any fuck but for that fuck—the ultimate fuck—no matter where it led. I had offers aplenty as I walked. I sucked a man in a Harlequin costume off in an alley, but refused further servicing as his cock was normal sized no matter how I tried to make it swell. I almost went with a clown, but when he drew out his cock, I knew that would not be enough, would not satisfy. He was standing under a street light a block beyond the entrance to the club, leaning against the pole, his black cape wrapped tightly around him. There was no way that, from this distance, I could tell that it was him. But I knew it was. I would have gone straight to him, knelt to him, begged for what he could give me. But something inside me told me that he would reject me if I did. He had to want me; he had to select me. I knew that without having any reason to know it. I stood at the door of the club, looking toward the light post. He wasn't looking at me. I don't know if he'd even seen me. I had to believe he knew I was there. He was giving no signal—not even looking at me. I would need to continue as with any other night I needed the fuck. If he wanted me, he would come for me. I entered the Club Fantastic for the fuck. It was a rough bar. I knew I would find a cock here. Maybe one that would satisfy me. It was a biker night. There were several possibilities. All eyes had gone to me as I entered, and I knew that several of the men wanted me. I surveyed the room. A big bruiser of a biker was sitting in the shadows in a back corner. I hardly saw him for the black leather and cigarette smoke he was swathed in. He must have been nearly seven feet tall when he stood and was massively muscled. He could break me in two if he wanted too—and perhaps that was what I was seeking. I pulled my T from over my head and gave him a submissive look from across the room, conveying "fuck me" to him. In response, he pushed the table that had been in front of where he sat to the side and revealed a freed, erect, hard monster phallus encased in a hand. I walked slowly toward him, unbuttoning my jeans and allowing the fly to part to show him that I wore nothing else underneath, watching his tight smile turn into a sneer and a promise that he would at least try to take me to the edge that I sought. The conversations in the vicinity ceased and men turned toward where the monster biker sat, lips already being moistened with tongues, already anticipating the punishing fuck that was promising to be on offer. Taking bets in low voices on whether I could sheath it—how long I could take it. "You sure?" he muttered to me as I approached. "I'll split you into tomorrow." "Yes, I'm sure," I answered in a hushed tone. All I wanted was someone who could touch me where I'd been touched a year before. Many had tried; none had satisfied—not since last All Hallows Eve. He reached out with both hands and jerked my jeans down to my knees. In one swift movement, he'd turned me, managing to completely control me just with the grip of his hands on my buttocks cheeks, spreading them and, at the same time, stretching my entrance wide. He swiftly impaled me on his staff—to gasps and groans from the salivating crowd, not just from me—and was raising and slamming me down, pulling me closer to his crotch with each pull. I, indeed was split, and my channel was tested to the limit. Almost to the limit. But not quite to the limit. I screamed for him as he knew I would until the strength and size of him reduced me to a mumbling babble. Someone in the crowd was counting out the seconds aloud while another, gruffer voice, counted the strokes. Money was still exchanging hands in the gathered crowd, and the decibel level rose in frenzied amazement the longer I endured. Good. Almost great. Not quite satisfying. The curse of last All Hallows Eve. Nothing short of that was satisfying now. I had been ruined. I might as well have died that night. The biker was setting a rhythm. He didn't need me to do anything. I relaxed, barely yielding just a bit more to him with each thrust, my attention going elsewhere. I looked over toward the door to the club and saw that he was standing there. I gave him an imploring, pleading "choose me" look. He returned a level, knowing stare that sent shivers up my spine. And a wicked smile that had me climbing off the biker's cock to general applause and boisterous laughter, pulling up my jeans as I moved toward the door to the street, and walking quickly out of the club and out of the quarter, and up Promenade, toward the cemetery, my pace quickening, my panic growing—but held in check by my remembering want—my blood already running cold. Cold Stone Morgan stood near Lucas, tense and waiting for signals from his Master. Lita could not understand the syllables that flew from Lucas's mouth but she saw the other priests scramble into position in response. They raised her to her knees and she felt the cold stone dig into her flesh, but she welcomed the cleansing pain. From the tray that Morgan had brought, a dagger was produced. Though it was clearly made of steel, it had no luminescence, seeming to detract light; almost to absorb it, and no reflections glittered from its surface despite the full moon. It lay in Morgan's hands, dark and lusterless, but still it stood out as if in relief to the night world they occupied. Its handle was ornately carved and Lita felt the presence of "old" as she looked at it. Morgan bowed his head and held the dagger out to Lucas. Once the Master gripped the handle, it began to glow. He approached the quivering girl, reached underneath her, and laid the blade against her belly. Lita gasped as it burnt its shape into her skin. Startled, but spellbound, she saw tendrils of smoke rise from her body and she writhed in agony, wondering only how a metal blade exposed to the cool night air could be so hot. Lucas captured her chin in His hand and lifted her face to His. His handsomeness was gone, but Lita was enamored of Him all the same. Her eyes traced the horns that protruded from His skull and she smiled tenderly as His grin revealed sharp fangs where teeth had once been. "My lover," she whispered. "My Queen," He responded. The moment gone, Lucas tilted her head back roughly until her neck screamed in protest as He moved the blade to her throat. The priests held her still. Lucas's harsh voice uttered chants in a singsong sound that belied His brutal appearance and very slowly, He dipped the blade into an artery in her neck. Lita cried out. She felt the burning blade push against her tightened skin until it pierced; she felt its hot entrance as it slipped inside her, opening her vein and allowing her clean blood to flow in a single river of perfection. Lucas lifted her limp body and settled His mouth against the opening. He sucked hard and like a hiss of hot air, Lita heard her life force begin to trickle from her to her Master. She sighed, allowing herself to drown in bliss. Behind her, Morgan organized an assault. He positioned one of the lesser priests, holding the man's huge and erect cock against the opening to Lita's ass. She began to moan and press back against the appendage. Morgan directed the priest, who was lost in the throes of religious ecstasy. He told the priest to fuck himself into the girl. He told him to rip her open, and to spare no tenderness. "The girl must be subjugated. She must be broken down and built anew, clean and pure for Master." His instructions grew harsh and Lita felt the man behind her tremble. "Fuck the girl. Fuck her asshole. Cleanse her for the One we worship." Impatience seeped in, "Do it now!" With a mighty thrust, the priest pushed and Lita felt a rending occur. She screamed, releasing a fresh burst of blood into the mouth of her Master. Lucas groaned and drank from her. She saw Him change once more as He grew large before her eyes, His back bending to accommodate His new height. From behind Him, a tail began to emerge and Lita watched, fascinated, as it grew and twisted around Lucas as if it were not attached to His body. The tail snaked up and touched Lita's belly, stroking her breasts, lapping at her nipples with its forked end. Behind her, the priest in her asshole fell into rapture and plunged his cock deeper into her ass. "Oh! Oh, Master! Oh Master! Oh!" She cried. The pain was immense, but Lita felt herself give way to it; she welcomed it, became part of it, and its power moved her to tears. She pushed against the priest, careful not to dislodge her beloved from His feast, and fucked the lesser priests' cock enthusiastically. She heard the man groan, felt him grip her buttocks until they bled as he ruthlessly hammered into her, and she waited anxiously for the release of his seed knowing that she would grow strong from it to better feed her Master. Lucas had doubled in body size. Staggering as though drunk on Lita's blood, He lifted His head and peered over her shoulder grunting His pleasure at seeing His Queen impaled so mightily. He growled and threw His head back as His forked tail caressed Lita's nipples. The priest shuddered and cried out as cum exited his body. He plunged once more and held on, climaxing inside her. Lita whispered encouragement as the power of his ejaculation filled her. She reached down and guided her Master's head back to her neck. "Drink, my Love. Grow strong for me." Lucas settled His lips around her seeping slit like a nursing child and Lita prepared herself for the next assault. Morgan acted swiftly, and Lita saw, through her detached mind, that Morgan's body quivered and his cock had reached a state of hardness unlike any she had ever seen. He shoved the second priest into place and urged him to enter the girl's asshole. The spent priest that had just vacated her hole bent his head to lick away his excess semen, which had escaped from around the new intruder. Lita squealed in delight, and empowered now, thrust her small ass rapidly, sucking the new cock deep into her cavity and squeezing her muscles around him. She was anxious to fuck her Master and wished to speed up this maddening process. The tail that had so wonderfully stroked her nipples moved to her pussy, its slightly feathered edges brushing her clitoris until it grew taut and rose up from her labia. It throbbed and trembled and Lita moaned softly. Lucas slowed His suction and teased her cut with His tongue. The feeling was pleasure undefined and Lita wallowed in it while her hips and tight ass reduced the second fucking priest to a mass of pure sensation. The man called out his orgasm and bent low over her, emptying with unrestrained pleasure deep into her ass. Lucas slid from His place at her neck, sated and nearly full. He moved to slide under her, bellowing new orders to His faithful servant, Morgan. Lita felt the heat of the blade as it pierced again, nearly swooning as it dipped into the femoral artery of her left thigh. She knew this could extinguish her life, but she trusted Master to know what He was doing and so she accepted only the pleasure it gave, rejecting the fear. Her Master sighed and drank from the new cut and Lita suffered waves of dizziness. Before her eyes, Lucas's cock came into view as He shifted his position beneath her. It was truly massive. It climbed up from a thick bed of softly curling hair; it pulsed visibly and glowed a subtle red, as if about to tap into a cauldron of lava. Lita's mouth watered and she opened her lips at the same time that Morgan's face appeared in front of her. Together they shared a knowing look: one of deep love and desire for their Master. Lita knew that Morgan wished to serve, maybe even more than she did. With an inclination of her head, she signaled her intentions to share her Beloved and together, they began to stroke Master's huge cock with their tongues. Lucas moaned and thrust His hips upward. His tail continued to play upon Lita's clit as He suckled from her thigh. The third priest was already fucking her ass, his cock perhaps the largest yet aside from Master's, and the burning pleasure that it gave her caused her movements to become more frenzied. Lita felt her approach to climax; it lifted her, buoying her body high to a place of pleasure she had never visited before. She thought that she would be put to the test to endure the pleasure that fucking Master would give her as she could barely withstand the ripples that stabbed her body now. Morgan inched closer and took Master's cockhead into his mouth. It excited Lita to watch him suck it so desperately. Master moaned, His breath coating her legs with warmth. Greedily, she moved to recapture the treasure from Morgan, but Master bade her wait. "Let him drink, my Queen. It will enslave him to us forever, and we'll have need of such a servant." Regretfully, Lita drew back and fitted her hands around the portion of Master's cock that Morgan could never hope to reach. She allowed herself to move against the dick in her ass as she watched Morgan submit to Master just for a taste of His seed. She admired his zeal and vowed to excel above it in order to please Master even better. Lucas inserted his tongue deeply into the cut on Lita's thigh. She screamed and squeezed harder on the base of His cock, flexing her body hard so as to force more blood from her veins into His mouth. Morgan's eyes grew round and wide as the massive meat inside his mouth began to shudder. Lita saw the effect; she saw Morgan's cheeks bulge and then contract and she knew a mighty blast was coming. Morgan groaned and began to suck with a fervor that impressed his small audience and at the same time, he gripped his own cock and pumped viciously. Lita was spinning through the beginnings of orgasm, feeling the huge cock imbedded in her asshole piston in, then out again, ripping into her to a place deeper than any of the cocks before it had reached. She bore down, pushing, thrusting, fucking onto that dick. Impaling herself over and over. Sweat dripped from her hair as she strained to consume him. The priests' cock slipped through the last remaining barrier and seated itself into the depths of her warm bowels mixing blood with the other fluids that flowed there. She gripped Master's shaft; she pulled the too-hot flesh, jerking it and encouraging Master to give Morgan a taste. Lucas grunted. It was coming; He was cumming. Lita rushed the rest of the way toward her own pinnacle, and the priest fucking her asshole succumbed to the moist heat that caressed his cock. He and Morgan began to cum as Lita and Master guided the whole event. Lucas stroked His bride's thighs, licked her clitoris alongside His talented tail, and as Lita climbed high enough to soar through the sky, Lucas released a massive burst of semen into the mouth of His most loyal servant. Morgan wailed his delight as he tried to contain the volume of that single shot of body heated seed. Delirious with pleasure, and drunk on his Master's elixir, Morgan came hard and long, decorating the ground underneath him with blast after blast of cum, his face dripping from Master's huge release. Satisfied, Morgan staggered back and relinquished the coveted prize. Lita pounced and enveloped Master's cock with her mouth. She pulled at the head, tonguing the slit that still oozed precious drops of Master cum. Lucas growled His pleasure, but there was warning in His voice as well. Risking His wrath, Lita plunged her tongue into His slit one final time, trembling violently and pulling one more stream of cum from His body, then she let go and lay still, panting. Movement from beneath her roused her from her pleasure. She lifted up to allow Master freedom and felt herself dumped to the wet ground. Dawn was about to break and the moon was waning. She glanced down in amazement at her abused body. Beautiful red blood covered nearly all of her skin. She gasped and admired herself. Her slender thighs, her white skin peeking through vivid red, her engorged clitoris and ravaged nipples, all were startling to behold. Not one part of her body was unmarred and Lita thought that she had never appeared lovelier. Master took her hand and pulled her to her feet, catching her as she swayed. She barely reached His waist He had grown so immense, and that still human part of her quivered in a mixture of fear and delight. He placed her upon the slab and took Morgan by his neck. Moving Lita's legs up to expose her pussy and ass, Master drove Morgan's face against her asshole. "Cleanse her!" He growled. Morgan's tongue flew from his mouth as he sucked the priests' cum from her hole. Lita inhaled sharply, her sound low and husky. Master was going to fuck her, now. She would become His for eternity and rule the dark world by His side. Flutters of anticipation caused her body to shiver and she rose up to meet Morgan's tongue, bearing down to force the remnants of semen into Morgan's willing mouth. Power surged through her veins as she realized she had the world at her feet, beginning here with Morgan and the other priests, and extending to no known boundaries. High on her status, she whispered to Morgan. "Yes, pet. Drink it all down. Suck it from me and swirl it on your tongue. Taste what the followers have sacrificed. You belong to Master, to me, to Us. Forever. From this moment on, your will is Ours, your life is Ours. Forever!" Morgan continued to suck the cum from Lita's asshole; he was thirsty, hungry, and greedy for more. Lita felt his tongue climb high into her ass, searching, seeking, drinking. She closed her eyes and wallowed in his submission, but Master was ready to complete their union. Roughly, He dislodged Morgan and tossed him to the ground. As He climbed into place, towering above His bride, He issued one last command to Morgan. "Suck them! Suck them all and drink what they give to you." Morgan hurried to comply as the priests gathered around holding their cocks out for Morgan to suck. Lita turned her head and watched as he took the priests into his mouth one by one; she approved of his compliance and understood that this was a momentous turning point for Morgan, as it was for her. Morgan was proving himself, showing Master that he would do anything for Him. Lita understood the feeling well. Lucas, her only Master, lowered His head and captured Lita's lips. He bit and nibbled, drawing blood and coaxing her to allow Him to consume her. She thrived on His touch and began to spread her thighs. Master's tongue slipped into her mouth and probed her throat as His bride moaned beneath Him. At last, He lifted His head and looked into her eyes. Reaching between them, He placed His cock at the entrance to her pussy and began to press. "Master! Oh, Master, please say that it will fit. Force it if you must; I have to fuck you!" He nodded, snarling in His passion until His lips revealed those sharp teeth. Leaning forward, He reached under and cupped her buttocks then began a series of hard, but undamaging thrusts that allowed His enormous cock to snake its way inside her. Lita screamed, her voice a beacon in the night; a beacon that drew the attention of night creatures lurking in the shadows. The lightening sky became as black as a raven's wings as the air filled with flutters and hisses and slithering movements. She felt the audience approach and trembled with fear, but Master was there to protect her. He would allow no harm to come to His queen. With a savage growl that pierced all who could hear, Master plunged and finally forced His cock into His bride. He began to fuck her hard and fast, and Lita writhed in the ultimate pain. After a time, as she grew accustomed to His size, she relaxed and put her arms around His body. "My Master. My Love. My Husband. Give me Your seed. Give me Your child." Lucas reacted to her pleas. He fucked her relentlessly, pounding so hard that her cuts were torn anew and fresh blood coated both their bellies. Lita began to feel the familiar and welcome stirrings of pleasure. She grunted against His belly and worked her hips to accept all of him. Master's tail began to tickle her, sliding its feathery edges across her pussy to stab at her clit repeatedly. "Oh," she moaned. "Master, I will cum for you soon." He seized her legs and jerked them straight as He lifted Himself upright and thrust quickly into her pussy. His nostrils released torrents of steam and His tail moved down to probe against her asshole. "Yes!" she hissed. "Take me there, too, my Love. Take all of me." The tail entered her asshole and scissored back and forth, introducing her body to new delights as it moved inside her to explore every inner inch of her body. She was caught between two delightful invaders and orgasm was moving swiftly through her body, building to a release she doubted she could sustain, yet, she welcomed the chance to try. Lucas flexed and increased His fucking, making certain that there was no chance His seed would escape before its job was done. The girl's enthusiasm was contagious, proving that the priests had done a fine job selecting His queen. Lita struggled to match Master's thrusts but found she could only hang on helplessly as pain and pleasure stole her breath and transported her to ecstasy once more. The priests and the other members of the audience were coupling in randy, frenzied form. Voluptuous witches emerged from the shadows with black eyes and creaming cunts. They assaulted the suckling Morgan as he slurped down the seed the lesser priests had unleashed upon him. The dark enchantresses took turns mounting Morgan, eliciting high cries of delight from him as they rode his cock to orgasm one after another. Lita concentrated, climax approaching, pleasure climbing unbearably. She clawed at Master's hips and began to scream. She screamed loud and long, unable to withstand the pressure of Master's engorged cock. He mercilessly drew her closer and moved His hips side-to-side as His cock entered into her belly. Master roared when His climax came. He lifted His head, parted His lips, and howled into the night as His lava-like cum flowed uninterrupted into His queen's body. Lita gasped through the final convulsions of her orgasm, only to have it begin again as Master's semen boiled her cunt. His cock grew so wide it applied the most exquisite pressure upon her swollen clitoris and with a last, strangled cry of pleasure, Lita collapsed in Master's arms, His cum rolling out of her in waves of hot liquid. When she awoke, she was ensconced safely within His castle. With wonder, she looked around her new home and felt contentment in her dark surroundings. Within her womb, a little Prince had already begun to grow. Lita stroked her Husband's face and slept.