Page 27 of Of Heathens & Havoc

Though that’s not unheard of, it is rare.

My cock stirs at the prospect of stretching someone open for the first time, feeling her tear around me, the squeeze of her cunt around my girth as she takes me, the tears that will drip from her eyes when I tell her she won’t be getting the closeness she desires from me. If His Holiness chooses me for the honor of drawing first blood…

I draw closer to the Master, as if lured by the pheromones leaking through the wet nightgown of his captive. He holds her with one arm, his hand spread under her ass, one finger still pressed to her pussy through the drenched fabric.

Heath throws his arm around my neck, cackling like a loon. “This is already the best sacrifice yet,” he crows. “You gotta join this time, brother.”

Angel joins us on my other side, licking and sucking at the spots on his robe.

“What the fuck,” I say, elbowing him. “Cut it out.”

His laugh sounds hollow inside his wolf mask when he drops it back over his face. “You know you want to eat that juicy little pussy until it squirts all over your face too.”

“Nah, Saint’s a selfish bastard, he don’t go down,” Heath says.

“I obey the Master,” I point out. “If he commands it, I perform. Otherwise, what do I get out of it?”

“You get to eat pussy,” Angel says, like I’m missing something.

I shrug. “Doesn’t do it for me. I’m there for me, and for the sacrifice, to defile every inch of our innocent inside and out, until she doesn’t remember a life as anything but our little whore. I’m not there to make her feel… Whatever eating her out makes her feel.”

“Bro, when I eat pussy, it’s not just for her,” Angel says, smacking his lips. “It’s fucking delicious. It’s god’s perfect, calorie-free dessert.”

“I don’t like the taste,” I say, shrugging off Heath, who’s still got his arm thrown around my neck.

“Wait, you’ve done it?” Heath asks. “I don’t believe it.”

“Fuck off.”

Angel shakes his head, and I can tell by the way the mask shifts on his face that he’s grinning. “More for me,” he says, then lifts his mask and goes back to licking her squirt off his robe.

“You’re a fucking bastard, is what you are,” Heath says. “I can’t believe girls on this campus still let you stab it every night.”

“I must be doing something right,” I say smugly, palming my cock through my clothes. “They keep coming back for more.”

“Ladies love a challenge,” Angel says. “You give them the D, they want a date. Give them a date, they want a ring.”

“They’re ad-dick-ted,” Heath says, honking with laughter.

I shove him into the wall, but he just keeps laughing, then suddenly breaks into a wolf howl, flexing his fists in front of him.The other Hellhounds join in, needing the release of tension after the scene we just witnessed. I’m not one to wax poetic over pussy, but that was fucking epic, a once-in-a-lifetime show that none of us will ever forget. I dip my tongue into the corner of my mouth, seeking a drop she squirted onto my face.

What the fuck am I doing? I shake my head, trying to knock myself out of the trance of lust she put us all in.

Her cum is only on my mask, anyway.

She’s probably lying about being a virgin, hoping we’d choose her to sacrifice. That performance was too good for someone without practice. If she can squirt like that, there’s no way we wouldn’t have chosen her, virgin or not. I bet she’ll be able to take all twelve of us without tapping out. The thought of us each taking a turn with her in a row is both filthy and erotic, something that can only happen in the flickering light of this room, where we can be our basest selves, the animals we are at our core.

Together we will watch her take our cum until she’s so full it spills out with each thrust, dripping down the altar and soaking the floor. I can’t wait to bury myself in her swollen flesh, feel my cock expand inside her and release my seed with my brothers, binding us in some way that can only happen when your bare cock is swimming in their mingled release. Each time is familiar and yet new, the hope that she can take all twelve of us always an exciting prospect.

She was pretending she wasn’t into it, but she never said the safe word, so I know it was all for show. The virgin act probably was too. But damned if I care. I’m ready to rut into her like the animal I am, be the primal, caveman version of myself that I hold back in daylight.

Inside, we’re all animals.

Tonight, we just admit it more openly than usual.

We enter the lower sanctuary, the one built directly under the one in the church. This is our church, the altar where we worship our own virgin and the sacrifice she makes for all of mankind. The Master lays her down on the stone, now adorned with flowers, and we surround her. She lies there on her back, staring up at us from the fist-sized, sightless eyes of her sheep mask.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Just let me go. I didn’t agree to this.”

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