The pine trees sway side to side in unison as the frigid midnight air whistles through the pervasive dark of the forest. Rays of the full moon’s light provide an unearthly blue glow on the canopy of pine needles and broken twigs that litter the ground, however the visibility provided does nothing to ease the ominous sense of dread that seems to have infected the very air inside this forest. Not a sound can be heard, save for the swirl of the breeze and the creak and rustle of the trees. In this forest, wolves had ceased to howl, birds no longer sang, frogs no longer croaked, and crickets did not chirp. All life had been driven away, driven elsewhere by the epicentre of evil that lived in the black and beating heart of these woods.

You see, there is a path in this forest. You would never find it if you didn’t know where to look, and you would never look if you weren’t insane… but there is a path. It is a road left to rot over the centuries. A narrow, cobbled pavement from a time best forgotten. Yet there are those that never forgot. There are those that know where that path came from and where it leads. And like a deadly infection transmitted from one open wound to another, they pass on that knowledge to a select few who will be called upon to make use of that information. They speak in hushed whispers and ancient tongues, and they tell of the unholy structure that still stands where that forsaken path ends.

A church. A hollow and burnt shell of its former glory, left to decay and be reclaimed by the nature that surrounded it. But not even nature wanted it. Ivy would not grow on its charred walls, trees kept their distance as if fearing that the surrounding earth may infect their roots, and the ring of grass that had been scorched so many centuries ago had never grown back, as if the ground had been salted and not known the moist kiss of greenery every since. This is where the path leads, though none would dare step foot inside the walls of that den of evil. Not without good reason at least… not without purpose.

The moonlight bathes the clearing where the church stands, but on this unholy night it is not the only light source that can be seen. The church breathes again, you see? From the outside there can be made out the faintest flickering of orange candlelight. It shimmers against the few stained glass windows that haven’t been smashed or destroyed, and from the outside-in you would see how the candlelight illuminates the blackened interior of this house that even God forgot.

But candlelight is not the only aberration from the usual silent dark that occupies the church. The closer one gets to the building, the clearer another of their senses would be activated. Sounds. Sounds that make hair stand to attention, and cause you to feel so cold that you fear you may never know warmth again. It is the sound of… voices. Deep, mystic voices chanting in unison, the softness of their delivery amplified by the acoustics of the hollow church. The language sounds foreign… ancient. Perhaps Latin, perhaps Aramaic, perhaps no language known by any living or sane historian. They speak in perfect unison, and their volume increases ever so slightly with each repetition. Finally, at random intervals, another sound can be heard; the throaty, primal, almost pained moans of an enraptured female.

The scene inside that church’s heavy double doors is one from satanic folklore. 10 cloaked figures form a perfect circle, their voices growing in fervour and volume as the ritual continues. Their cloaks are hooded and obscure their faces, but even in the candlelight it is apparent that all of them are wearing white, featureless masks. Their robes are black on the outside, with red silk interior, and although they cover most of the figures’ bodies they are open at the front, revealing that every member of that circle is naked beneath their cloak. What’s more, whatever ancient chant they are speaking into existence is having some strange effect on their bodies. The men in the circle are rock hard — their erections jutting out of their robes and practically throbbing despite the ice-cold air inside the building — and the woman are leaking vaginal nectar down the inside of their thighs like the flow of a bubbling stream. Veins bulge like thick blue straws, chests rise and fall in heaving gasps, muscles tense like industrial cabling, some of the members of the circle are even frothing and drooling from the mouth... and yet not a single person breaks the chant.

Inside the circle of cultists there is a pentagram painted directly on to the stone floor in fresh yet drying blood, and atop that pentagram lies a gorgeous, young, virginal beauty. The soles of her feet are planted firmly on the floor, legs bent at 45 degree angles, arms splayed out to her side, as she bucks and gyrates her hips with uncontrollable rapture. Her pussy is soaked and throbbing despite having had no contact from another person or herself, and her small, pink nipples are as hard as diamonds. She moans like a whore as another spasm of pleasure erupts through her, eyes closed tight, and long ginger hair flowing beneath her. Tears roll down her flushed, high cheekbones, leaving wet trails that shine in the candlelight and reflect the pale radiance of her naturally perfect skin.

The chants from the circle are growing now, and one of the cultists produces a knife from under his cloak, before holding it to the heavens as if to taunt God with its presence. The man brings the knife back down to his waist, and without hesitation he cuts the palm of his own left hand, before cutting the right palm of the person to his left, and then handing them the blade. The next person in the circle repeats this process, linking hands with the person to their right after passing the knife away. While this happens, one of the men ejaculates spectacularly, his cock spasming as five long, heavy ropes of seed explode outwards and shower the sacrificial girl’s lower leg and thigh. And still, his erection never subsides... in fact, if anything it grows harder and more rigid, as if kept in a perpetual state of bliss by the mouth of some unholy deity. Once all of the cultists palms are cut and the linked circle is complete, they bow their heads and the chant grows louder still.

The ancient language is being almost yelled by this point, the booming voices of the cultists having to fight to be heard over the wails of pained pleasure issuing from the young woman at their feet.

“I can… fuh… fuh… feel him.” She moans, tears of ecstatic horror continuing to stream down her beautiful cheeks. Her toned stomach rises and falls with each breath, where dark blue veins are beginning to stand out visibly against her pale white skin. She screams in rapture and her hips buck upwards violently as the chants come to a sudden stop. Deathly silence now fills the church, save for the anguished sobs of the young woman who gingerly lowers her hips, the cultists watching in astonishment as a thin trickle of blood seeps from the sacrifice’s cunt.

She had been claimed, by what or by who… it was impossible to know. But she was a virgin no more. She cries in fear and delight and holds her stomach, already able to feel the gift she had been left with.

The cultists unlink their hands and slide their cloaks off, staring at one another from behind their white masks. Without another word spoken, the naked figures join the woman on the cold stone floor and begin to feverishly mount one another, bodies becoming smeared with blood as they grab at flesh and fuck like rabid animals. 5 men for 5 woman, surrounding the mother of their new dark lord as she clutches her freshly impregnated stomach. All of them celebrating the successful union between man and beast.

So yeah, it’s weird, I know. But come on, it’s kinda hot as well, right? ...right!? Where’d everyone go?

Anyway, I’d like this prompt to act as an origin story for an antichrist/demon character of sorts. I haven’t thought too far ahead, but on the off chance that anyone is actually interested in something like this then we can discuss it together and try to make a cohesive plot.

Kinks for this prompt: Rough sex, D/s, ritualistic sex, tentacles(?), subservience/worship.

Limits: anything underage, poop, feet, gore, vore, celebrities, heavy bdsm.