Page 53 of Bloodmoon Ritual

It was a sin to have come on his leg, it was a sin anytime I had ever looked at Rhyder, looked at the broad span of his shoulders, the way his face frowned in concentration when he read evening devotions, the way his work pants rode low on his hips.

It was certainly a sin when at 18 I had seen him climb up on the bank after fishing in the stream, seen the outline of his thick cock as his pants were plastered to the strong lines of his body.

The little pull I felt in my cunt was just one of the reasons I was so fucked up.

The sun dipped below the horizon as the Enforcer entered the clearing, holding a pile of wooden stakes and chains.

I was filled with a nameless terror, all the more powerful because I didn’t know what the ceremony would entail.

“Remove your whore’s garb,” Eli intoned, circling us.

Some of the other women hesitated, but I knew no good could come of delaying, and immediately my hands went to my bedraggled red dress.

Only a few days ago I had put it on, hoping my boyfriend would like it.

Now Craig was dead or mutilated, savagely attacked by my unstable jealous brother, and the party dress was hanging from my body, the sleeves ragged and cut, my brother’s releases and mine streaked up and down the skirt.

I shivered as the dress fell to the ground around my ankles, my nipples peaking with the fear and chill.

Eli lit a torch and walked around our naked bodies, chanting

O Allfather

We seek to take these whores into our camp

So they may be used for the slaking of our lust

Purify them with fire and holy matter

Let only the strongest survive

As he walked in a circle, he turned the torch inward, walking closer and closer until the flames were turned on our backs.

The women who cried out in pain were cut, low in their calves and ankles.

Purge

Purge it out

Purge

Purge it out

I said nothing, even though the flames licked painfully at my back.

Then each woman was lined up in a row and shoved to our knees, our hands gripped roughly and tied with chains to stakes behind us.

I heard soft cries of pain and shock, but I stayed quiet. It didn’t help to cry. They didn’t care if we cried.

Trembling, I waited, the cool air swirling around my nipples, my thighs open, knees dug into the ground.

If we didn’t sit properly, Eli came around, yanking our heels back and tying our arms tighter so our faces were raised to the sky.

Then my head was jerked up roughly and a drink poured down my throat, the taste sickly-sweet, thick and syrupy.

Eli yanked painfully on my hair, forcing me to look at him as he got closer, his yellowed mouth parting as he examined me.

I didn’t know what it was but it couldn’t be anything good. I would’ve tried to throw it up but my hands were tied so I couldn’t.

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