Apocalypta: some short vignettes [story, altar sacrifice, semi-consensual]

Zephirantes · Aug 19, 2024

- - -

Driven by a mix of morbid curiosity and a desperate need to confront their fate, Melita and Amina found themselves climbing the steep steps of the pyramid, their naked bodies shimmering in the moonlight. The night air was thick with the scent of blood and sweat, and the sounds of distant chants echoed across the landscape, adding to the eerie atmosphere. Though it wasn’t yet their turn to face the blade, they couldn’t resist the pull to witness the gruesome execution of their friend, Tachanun, whose time had come.
As they reached the summit, they saw Tachanun bound to the stone altar, his body painted blue and trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. The priests had already begun their ritual, their hands smeared with blood as they prepared the obsidian knife. The sight of their friend lying there, about to be split open, sent a shiver down the girls’ spines, but they steeled themselves, determined to see it through.
“Tachanun,” Melita called out softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd below. “We’re here. We wanted to be with you… to see what it’s like.”
Tachanun turned his head, his face pale and glistening with sweat. He managed a weak smile, though his eyes were wide with terror. “I… I didn’t think you’d want to see this,” he gasped, his voice shaky.
“We need to know,” Amina replied, her tone firm despite the trembling in her hands. “We need to understand what’s going to happen to us. What it feels like.”
As the knife touched Tachanun’s lower abdomen, just above his genitals, the first cut was made. He screamed, his body arching in pain as the blade sliced through his flesh, splitting him open from his pubic mound upward. The priests worked methodically, slowly exposing the glistening organs within. The sight was horrifying, yet Melita and Amina couldn’t look away.
“How does it feel?” Melita asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Is it… unbearable?”
Tachanun struggled to speak, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the priests reached inside his belly, carefully hooking his intestines to a pulley. “It… it hurts… so much,” he managed to choke out, his voice filled with agony. “But… there’s… something else… it’s like… like I’m floating… somewhere between pain and… something else.”
As his intestines were slowly drawn out, inch by agonizing inch, Tachanun’s body convulsed, his back arching as another wave of pain hit him. But alongside the screams, there were moans—low, guttural sounds that mixed with the cries of anguish. His cock, already stiff from the stimulation of the knife and the touch of the priests, began to throb with an unmistakable urgency.
“Are you… cumming?” Amina asked, her voice trembling with both horror and fascination.
Tachanun could only nod, his face contorted in a twisted mask of pleasure and pain as his cock erupted, thick ropes of cum spurting out, splattering across the altar and onto Melita’s and Amina’s naked bodies. The warm, sticky fluid landed on their breasts, their bellies, even their faces, marking them with the evidence of their friend’s final moments.
They felt cheap, humiliated by the act, their bodies stained with the remnants of Tachanun’s suffering and pleasure. And yet, deep inside, they couldn’t deny a strange, twisted sense of pride—a connection to their friend in his darkest hour, marked by his bravery, his pain, and his ultimate release.
“Is it… worth it?” Melita asked, her voice choked with emotion. “Do you think we’ll… cum like that when it’s our turn?”
Tachanun’s eyes were glazing over, his strength fading as the last of his intestines were pulled free, leaving his belly a hollow cavity. But he managed a final, breathless whisper. “Maybe… you will… maybe you’ll find… something… in the pain… in the end…”
His words trailed off as his head fell back, his body going limp as death finally took him. The priests continued their work, but Melita and Amina were lost in their own thoughts, their bodies still slick with his cum. They looked at each other, feeling the weight of what they had just witnessed.
Despite the horror, despite the humiliation, there was a spark of hope—a twisted, dark hope that when their time came, they might find some final, terrible pleasure in their own destruction. That even with their cunts split in two, their clits bisected by the obsidian knife, they might experience the same mix of agony and ecstasy that had marked Tachanun’s end.
And as they descended the pyramid, the stain of Tachanun’s cum drying on their skin, they couldn’t help but wonder if their final moments would be filled with the same desperate, twisted orgasm—a last act of defiance against the fate that awaited them.

- - -

With their minds swirling in a mix of dread and dark curiosity, Melita and Amina made their way to one of the dark priests of Yog. The man, his face shrouded in shadow and his robes heavy with the scent of incense and blood, had been overseeing the grim rituals all night. Desperation drove the girls to seek him out, hoping against hope that he might offer them some solace—or at least an answer to the twisted question that had taken root in their minds.
When they finally caught the priest’s attention, their voices trembled as they asked, “Will we… will we still be able to cum, even after our cunts are split open? Even with our clits bisected?”
The priest paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied the two girls. His expression was inscrutable, a blend of detached interest and dark amusement. “You wonder if there can be pleasure in such pain,” he murmured, his voice a low, rumbling growl. “It’s not something I can answer easily. Each sacrifice reacts differently—some find a final release in the agony, while others… well, their bodies simply break.”
Amina and Melita exchanged nervous glances before the priest’s gaze sharpened. “Perhaps,” he said, almost to himself, “a closer inspection might give me some insight.”
Without waiting for their consent, the priest’s hands moved to Amina first, his long fingers parting her thighs with an unnerving ease. She gasped as his touch found her pussy, his fingers cold against the warmth of her skin. He explored her folds with a clinical detachment, pressing and prodding as though he were evaluating her most intimate parts for their potential to endure—or perhaps enjoy—the impending violence.
“Hmmm,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over her clit with a pressure that made Amina shudder. “Your body is responsive, but there is no guarantee. The knife will sever everything, and what remains may not be capable of pleasure. Still, the mind and body are strange things—sometimes they cling to pleasure even in the midst of destruction.”
He withdrew his hand from Amina and turned his attention to Melita, who was already trembling in anticipation and fear. The priest repeated his examination, his fingers tracing the same paths, probing the same places. Melita bit her lip, trying to suppress the conflicting sensations—revulsion, fear, and a dark, desperate hope that there might be some truth in what he said.
Finally, the priest stepped back, his hands stained with the evidence of his inspection. “There is no certainty,” he said, his voice a mix of cold indifference and faint curiosity. “Your bodies may betray you with pain, or they may surprise you with one last, agonized climax. Only the blade will reveal the truth.”
His words hung in the air, a grim reminder that whatever fate awaited them, it was now out of their control. The priest turned away, already lost in his preparations for the next sacrifice, leaving Amina and Melita to grapple with their own dark thoughts.
As they stood there, their bodies still tingling from the priest’s touch, they couldn’t shake the fear—or the faint, twisted hope—that their final moments might indeed hold some shred of the pleasure they so desperately sought. They clung to each other, knowing that the answer would only come when the knife finally did its work, and their bodies were laid bare before the dark god.
And as they descended from the priest’s shadow, their minds churned with the possibilities—both dreadful and tantalizing—that awaited them at the altar.

- - -

As the night deepened and the ritual sacrifices continued atop the pyramid, two Xotalanc soldiers stood at the base, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. They had noticed Melita and Amina moving about the pyramid, almost freely, their naked, blue-painted bodies catching the torchlight as they went from one place to another, speaking with the priests and even approaching the sacrificial altar. The girls’ behavior had not gone unnoticed, and the soldiers couldn’t help but comment on it.
“Have you seen those two?” one of the soldiers remarked, his voice low but laced with a dark chuckle. “Melita and Amina—they’re everywhere tonight. And all they seem to care about is whether they’ll cum when the knife finally slices them open.”
The other soldier snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s almost pathetic, isn’t it? You’d think they’d be focused on trying to escape, or at least praying for a quick death. But no—they’re obsessed with the idea of getting off while they’re being gutted.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like it,” the first soldier continued, his tone taking on a mocking edge. “Running around the pyramid like they’re on some kind of twisted quest, talking to the priests, trying to figure out if there’s any chance they’ll orgasm as they bleed out. It’s like they’re more concerned about pleasure than survival.”
“Maybe they’ve already given up on surviving,” the second soldier mused, crossing his arms as he watched the girls approach yet another priest. “They know they’re going to die, so they’ve latched onto the only thing that might give them some last bit of control—whether or not they cum before it’s all over.”
The first soldier laughed, a dark, harsh sound that echoed off the stone walls. “It’s almost funny, isn’t it? Here they are, about to be sacrificed in the most brutal way imaginable, and they’re acting like it’s some kind of final, twisted game. I’ll give them credit, though—they’ve got guts to walk around like that, knowing what’s coming.”
“Guts that’ll be spilled soon enough,” the second soldier added with a grim smirk. “But who knows? Maybe they’ll get their wish. Maybe they’ll go out with a scream and a shudder, feeling that last bit of pleasure even as the knife carves them open.”
“Maybe,” the first soldier agreed, though his tone was more cynical. “Or maybe they’ll just find out the hard way that death isn’t as kind as they’re hoping.”
The soldiers fell silent, watching as Melita and Amina moved further up the pyramid, their bodies gleaming in the firelight as they continued their strange, obsessive journey. The soldiers couldn’t fully understand what drove the girls, but they couldn’t deny the dark fascination in watching them—two doomed souls searching for one last shred of ecstasy before the inevitable end.
And as the night wore on, the soldiers knew that they, like everyone else gathered at the pyramid, would soon witness whether Melita and Amina’s desperate quest would end in the twisted pleasure they sought, or in the cold, indifferent grasp of death.

- - -

A student raised her hands. "Professor," she said, "but does this mean that Amina and Melita, in these ancient tales, are in fact... you know, two death-sluts?"
The classroom started laughing.

Professor Balkan rolled his eyes, and in his most scholarly voice, replied, apparently devoid of any emotion.

"Amina and Melita have indeed developed a deeply twisted fascination with their impending fate, one that goes far beyond mere fear or resignation. In the context of their dark, grim world, where death and suffering are constant companions, the girls have embraced a macabre identity that could be described as "pain-sluts" and "death-sluts."
"Their obsession with the idea of cumming as they die is a clear indication that they are aroused by the thought of pain and destruction, particularly when it involves their most intimate parts. The prospect of having their cunts split open, their clits bisected, and their intestines slowly pulled out is not just something they fear—it’s something they are perversely excited by. This excitement isn't purely sexual in the conventional sense; it's rooted in a deep psychological response to the extreme and the taboo, where pleasure and agony blur into one overwhelming sensation."
"Amina and Melita have come to see their deaths not as a tragic end but as the ultimate, final experience—one that combines the most intense physical sensations with the complete obliteration of their existence. The idea of being "obliterated forever" has taken on an almost seductive allure for them. They are drawn to the thought of their bodies being destroyed in the most intimate and painful ways imaginable, finding a dark thrill in the knowledge that this will be the last sensation they ever feel."
"In this way, they are excited by the thought of dying, not because they want to escape life, but because they see death as the ultimate, final act of surrender to the forces that have always controlled them. They have accepted, and even embraced, the idea that their lives will end in a spectacle of pain and destruction, and they find a strange, dark pleasure in the thought of being consumed by it."
"To them, the idea of their sexual parts being destroyed, their pussies split, their clits severed, and their insides exposed is not just terrifying—it’s something they have come to crave in their own twisted way. It represents the ultimate surrender to the forces of fate and pain, a final, irreversible act that will mark their departure from the world in a blaze of agony and ecstasy..."
Then, he paused, and looked at his own students. "Is everything clear now? We may proceed then..."

- - -

Zephirantes · Aug 19, 2024

- - -

As the night wore on and the shadow of the impending sacrifices loomed ever closer, Amina and Melita found themselves once again the center of attention. This time, it wasn't the priests or the guards commenting on their morbid curiosity, but a group of four Xotalanc soldiers who had been watching them with growing interest. The girls, their bodies still marked by the blue paint of the condemned, seemed to have accepted their fate with a strange, dark eagerness that intrigued the men.
The soldiers approached the girls, their intentions clear from the lecherous grins on their faces. "Well," one of them said, his voice rough with anticipation, "since you're so eager to try everything before you die, how about giving us a little show? How about a double dose of pleasure before your final act?"
Amina and Melita exchanged a glance, a mix of apprehension and dark excitement passing between them. They had already accepted that their bodies were no longer their own, that they were nothing more than objects of sacrifice. But this? This was something different—something they could choose to experience on their own terms, even if it was twisted and degrading.
"Why not?" Melita said with a wry smile, a spark of defiance in her eyes. "We’ve already accepted what’s coming. Might as well try everything once... except incest and folk dancing," she added with a darkly humorous quip that made Amina snort in spite of herself.

"Most certainly, this sentence is a later addition of the English text," Professor Balkan specified.
"Why?" a student asked.
Professor Balkan removed his glasses, looked at the girl who raised that silly question, and didn't even bother to answer...

The soldiers wasted no time, their rough hands grabbing the girls and positioning them for what they wanted. Amina and Melita, their minds already numb with the horrors of the night, allowed themselves to be taken, their bodies manipulated like they were nothing more than toys. The men decided on double penetrations—each girl would take one soldier in her pussy and another in her ass, a final, brutal experience before their cunts and bellies were to be ripped open.

The soldiers were not gentle, and the pain mixed with whatever fleeting pleasure the girls could find in the act. Their bodies, already tense with the anticipation of death, responded in ways they couldn’t fully control. As the men thrust into them, the girls tried to focus on the sensations, trying to extract whatever dark enjoyment they could from the rough treatment.
Around them, other soldiers gathered to watch, cheering on the performance with crude jokes and jeers. The atmosphere was one of lewd celebration, a stark contrast to the horror that had gripped the pyramid just hours before. Even one of the Techtuli prisoners, his belly already being sliced open, managed a weak, twisted cheer as he saw what was happening to his fellow captives.
Amina and Melita, their bodies filled and stretched in ways they had never experienced, found themselves caught in a maelstrom of sensations. The pain was intense, the humiliation even more so, but there was something else too—an odd, perverse satisfaction in knowing that they were pushing the boundaries of what their bodies could endure before the end. The soldiers used them roughly, grunting and sweating as they took their pleasure, the cheers of their comrades and the dying prisoner spurring them on.
Finally, the soldiers reached their climax, their seed spilling into the girls’ bodies, adding yet another layer of degradation to their final hours. Amina and Melita, their breath ragged and their bodies sore, collapsed onto the cold stone, their minds reeling from what they had just endured. They were marked now, not just by the blue paint and the promise of death, but by the final act of brutality they had allowed themselves to experience.
As they lay there, the soldiers laughing and congratulating each other on their performance, Amina and Melita couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of completion. They had tried everything, pushed themselves to the limit, and now there was nothing left but to face the final act. Their bodies had been used, their dignity stripped away, and yet they found a twisted satisfaction in knowing they had embraced their fate fully.
As the night deepened and the priests began preparing for the next sacrifice, Amina and Melita knew that their time was almost up. The final chapter of their lives was about to be written, and they would meet it with the same dark, defiant spirit that had carried them through their last hours. Whether they would find any pleasure in their deaths remained to be seen, but for now, they were ready to face whatever came next.

- - -

"Wow, this is some really hot stuff!" shouted a male student, hidden just at the end of the classroom.
"Is it? Boy, you should read how their double penetration is described in another, probably apocryphal text then," replied Professor Balkan, irritated by these comments. He started reading from page 600...

As the four Xotalanc soldiers prepared to have their way with Amina and Melita, the air around the pyramid buzzed with a perverse energy. The two girls, painted in the blue of the condemned and slick with sweat and girl juice leaking from their vaginas, were pushed down onto the cold stone. They exchanged a glance, a mixture of fear, defiance, and dark curiosity flickering in their eyes as the soldiers positioned themselves.
One soldier, already aroused by the prospect of what was to come, leaned over Amina, his hands roughly grabbing her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance. "You’re a brave one, aren’t you?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Begging for more even when you know what’s coming next."
Amina, her breath hitching as she felt the head of his cock press against her, forced a smirk. "Brave, or just really stupid," she quipped, her voice shaky but laced with a dark humor. "But if I’m going to die, might as well get in all the fun I can, right?"
The soldier chuckled darkly as he thrust into her, his movements harsh and unyielding. "Fun? Oh, you’ll get plenty of that before we’re through with you. But I don’t think you’ll be laughing much when that knife’s carving you up."
Amina gasped at the rough intrusion, the pain mixing with the remnants of her earlier arousal. "Maybe not," she replied through gritted teeth, "but I’ll still have this to remember when they’re pulling out my guts."
Meanwhile, another soldier had positioned himself behind her, spreading her ass cheeks wide as he prepared to take her anally. "And don’t forget about this part," he said with a grin, his breath hot against her back. "By the time we’re done, you’ll be leaking sperm from every hole."
As he pushed into her, Amina let out a strangled moan, her body reacting involuntarily to the dual sensations. The pain was intense, but so was the twisted pleasure that came with it. She couldn’t help but make a bitter joke, her voice shaky with exertion. "You boys really know how to treat a girl, don’t you?"
Melita, nearby, was also being taken by two soldiers, her body pinned between them as they filled her from both ends. One soldier grunted as he thrust into her pussy, his hand gripping her hair tightly. "I bet you never imagined your last night on earth would be like this," he taunted, his voice rough with exertion.
Melita, her body rocking with the force of their movements, managed a breathless laugh. "Not exactly what I had in mind… but hey, I’m always up for trying something new."
The soldier behind her, who had claimed her ass, leaned in close to her ear, his voice a low growl. "New, huh? How about we make it really memorable, then? You’ll be thinking about this when that blade splits you open."
Melita shuddered at his words, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through her. "Just… just make sure you don’t hold back," she gasped, her voice trembling. "If I’m going out, I want to feel everything."
The soldiers laughed, their hands roughly exploring the girls’ bodies as they took their pleasure, the atmosphere thick with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, of moans, and the occasional pained gasp. They reveled in the power they held over Amina and Melita, knowing that the girls’ final moments would be marked not just by the blade, but by the brutality of this last act of violation.
"You know," one of the soldiers taunted as he continued to pound into Melita, "this might be the last good fuck you’ll ever get. You should be thanking us."
Melita, her voice hoarse from the exertion, forced a bitter smile. "Thank you? For this? Don’t flatter yourself." She paused, her body convulsing as another wave of sensation washed over her. "But… I’ll admit… it’s not the worst way to go."
Amina, her body pinned under the weight of the soldiers, managed a strained laugh, her voice barely above a whisper. "Speak for yourself, Melita. I was hoping for a bit more romance."
The soldiers laughed cruelly at her words, their thrusts becoming more frenzied as they neared their climax. "Romance?" one of them scoffed. "This is all the romance you’re getting, sweetheart."
As the soldiers reached their peak, they emptied their balls inside the girls, their grunts of pleasure mingling with the sounds of the dying all around the pyramid. Amina and Melita, their bodies spent and marked by the violent encounter, lay motionless as the soldiers pulled away, leaving them in a heap on the cold stone.
The soldiers, their appetites sated, moved away with satisfied grins, leaving Amina and Melita to recover from the ordeal, their bodies slick with white spunk, pain, and the lingering, twisted thrill of what had just happened.
"You ready for what’s next?" Melita asked Amina weakly, her breath still coming in ragged gasps.
Amina, her voice soft but laced with grim determination, replied, "Ready as I’ll ever be."
And with that, they steeled themselves for the final, brutal act that awaited them atop the pyramid.

- - -

Zephirantes · Aug 19, 2024

- - -

As the night stretched into the darkest hours, the time finally came for Amina and Melita to face their grisly fate. The priests, having already toyed with the girls’ twisted curiosity and fear, decided to extend their torment just a bit longer. When Amina and Melita, holding each other’s hands, asked to be sacrificed together, the priests shook their heads with a cruel smile.
“No, no, my dear,” the chief priest said with a mocking tone. “We want your friends here to fully appreciate what’s in store for them. You’ll go first, Amina, and Melita will watch. That way, she’ll know exactly what to expect when her turn comes.”
The priests roughly separated the two girls, dragging Amina to the stone altar that had already seen so much blood that night. Melita, along with the other girls marked for sacrifice, was forced to stand close by, their bodies trembling with fear as they watched what was about to unfold.
Amina was placed on the altar. She arranged herself with her tits and belly turned upward, supporting herself on her legs and arms, palms of her hands and soles of her feet facing downward to touch the altar. It seemed to her the most... well, spectacular possible, considering the groin and ventral incision she would have to undergo.
As an added cruelty, the priests drove thick, iron nails through her hands and feet, pinning her to the stone and ensuring she could do nothing but endure what was to come. Amina gritted her teeth against the pain, her body shaking with the effort of holding back her screams.
The chief priest, his face split with a grin that was both cheerful and sinister, turned to the gathered girls. “Now, pay close attention, ladies,” he said in a tone that was disturbingly casual, as if he were giving a simple lesson rather than describing a brutal execution. “What we’re going to do here is a bit of a demonstration—an anatomy lesson, if you will. See, Amina here is already a bit used up, isn’t she?” He chuckled as he gestured to Amina’s pussy, still leaking the cum from the soldiers who had taken her earlier.
“We’ll start here,” he continued, pointing with his obsidian dagger to Amina’s bruised and swollen sex. “I’ll insert the blade into her pussy and slit it open, right down the middle. We’ll bisect her clit, so that little pleasure bud of hers will feel every last inch of the blade as it cuts through. From there, we’ll continue up, carving through her abdomen, splitting her navel, and going all the way up to her sternum.”
The girls, including Melita, watched in horror as the priest traced the path of the blade on Amina’s trembling body, his fingers lightly pressing on the spots where the knife would soon slice through flesh and muscle. Amina, despite the agony of the nails driven through her limbs, was silent, her breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as she awaited the first cut.
“And after that,” the priest went on, his tone almost jovial, “we’ll attach her intestines to this lovely little pulley here.” He gestured to a crude, bloodstained device beside the altar. “Then we’ll slowly, slowly reel them out, inch by inch. It’s a delicate process, you see—can’t rush a good disemboweling!”
He laughed, as if he had made a particularly good joke, while the other girls stared, some with tears in their eyes, others too terrified to move. Amina’s body was already slick with sweat, the pain of the nailing compounded by the anticipation of what was to come. Melita, her heart breaking for her friend, was unable to look away, even as she whispered desperate, pleading questions to the priest.
“Will… will she feel it all? Will she… suffer the whole time?” Melita asked, her voice barely more than a terrified whisper.
“Oh, absolutely,” the priest replied with a grin. “Every moment, every inch of that blade will be a new world of pain for her. But who knows? Maybe she’ll find some pleasure in it too—though I wouldn’t count on it.” He winked, a dark mockery of reassurance.
With that, the priest raised his obsidian dagger, the blade gleaming dully in the torchlight. He took one last look at the terrified faces of the girls before turning his attention fully to Amina. “Now, my dear, let’s see how well you handle this, shall we?”
Amina’s eyes squeezed shut as the blade pressed against the entrance of her pussy, the cold, sharp edge slowly forcing its way inside. She bit down hard on her lip, tasting blood as she fought to hold back the scream that threatened to tear from her throat. The priest worked methodically, the dagger moving with terrifying precision as it sliced through her sex, splitting her pussy in two and severing her clit in a single, excruciating motion.
Amina’s body convulsed with pain, her back arching against the nails that held her in place, but she didn’t scream. She didn’t give the priest the satisfaction, though tears streamed down her face as the blade continued its path upward, carving through her belly, ripping open her navel, and finally stopping at her sternum. Her skin parted like fabric, blood pooling beneath her as the priest finished his work, the cold air stinging her exposed insides.
The other girls could only watch in stunned silence, their faces pale with fear and horror. The priest, his hands now slick with Amina’s blood, carefully attached her intestines to the pulley, smiling as he began to turn the crank, slowly drawing out her entrails. Amina’s breath came in short, agonized gasps, each inch of her intestines being pulled from her body a new wave of unbearable pain.
As the gruesome scene unfolded, Melita and the other girls could only stand by, helpless, knowing that soon enough, this same fate awaited them. And as Amina’s life slowly ebbed away, the priest’s cheerful tone and gallows humor echoed in their minds, a chilling reminder of the fate they could not escape.

- - -

"You know, in some chronicles another, longer take on Amina's evisceration and reactions is reported. You can find it written down at page 616 of the book, you see," informed them professor Balkan, and started reading...

As the dark ceremony reached its peak, Amina was forced onto the cold stone altar, her body trembling both from fear and the residual effects of the brutal acts she had endured earlier. The chief priest of Yog, his face twisted into a grotesque grin, began his ritual with a macabre flourish, addressing Amina and the assembled girls with a tone that was almost disturbingly cheerful, considering the grim task at hand.
“Now, Amina,” the priest began, as he roughly pushed her down onto the altar, forcing her knees and arms into position, “you’ve had quite the evening, haven’t you? Seems like those soldiers really put you through your paces.” He chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting as they fell on the white streaks of cum still leaking from her abused pussy and ass. “It’s a shame, really—you look like you were made for pleasure, but I’m afraid we’ve got something a bit more… permanent in mind for you tonight.”
Amina, her body already aching from the rough handling, tried to find some dark humor in the situation. She managed a weak smile, though it was more a grimace than anything. “Guess I should be flattered,” she quipped, her voice strained but steady. “Not every girl gets such a send-off, right? I mean, look at me—still leaking all that love from the boys. They sure know how to treat a lady.”
The chief priest laughed heartily at her words, a laugh that echoed off the stone walls with an unsettling resonance. “Oh, Amina, you’ve got spirit—I’ll give you that,” he said as he grabbed her wrist, positioning it for the nail. “But don’t worry, we’re just getting started. Let’s see how long that humor lasts, shall we?”
With a swift, brutal motion, he drove the first nail through Amina’s hand. She gasped, her body jerking as the sharp pain shot through her, but she bit back the scream, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Her breath came in ragged bursts, but she forced herself to speak.
“Feels… feels like a really bad day at the spa,” she joked, though her voice wavered with the effort of holding back her agony. “But hey, at least the company’s entertaining.”

"Keep in mind that, most probably, there weren't any spas at the time, so, you see, another anacronyms, most probably a late addition to the text," interrupted Professor Balkan once again...

The priest smirked as he moved to her other hand, his grip firm and unyielding. “I like your attitude, girl,” he said as he positioned the second nail. “Maybe you’ll last longer than the others.”
As he hammered the nail into her other hand, Amina couldn’t stop a low, guttural moan from escaping her lips, the pain almost too much to bear. Still, she managed to keep talking, her voice a strained whisper. “Just… just make sure you aim right when you’re slicing me up. I’d hate to… miss out on any of the fun.”
Melita, watching from the side, her face pale and eyes wide with horror, couldn’t help but intervene. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “Don’t… don’t make her suffer more than she has to. Can’t you just… I don’t know, make it quick?”
The priest, now preparing to nail Amina’s feet, looked up at Melita with a patronizing smile. “Oh, sweet Melita,” he said, his tone dripping with mock concern. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, Amina here seems to be enjoying herself—just look at her. She’s practically glowing.”
He gestured to the cum still seeping from Amina’s pussy and ass, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Though I must say, this is quite the sight. Our soldiers sure know how to mark their territory, don’t they? It’s almost a shame to ruin it with all this blood and guts.”
Amina, gritting her teeth against the pain as the priest drove the nails into her feet, let out a short, pained laugh. “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” she rasped, her voice barely holding together. “Maybe… maybe you could give it a go before you carve me up. I’m already a mess, so what’s a little more, right?”
The priest chuckled darkly as he finished nailing her down, stepping back to admire his work. “Now that’s the spirit! But I’m afraid we’re on a tight schedule here. Still, I’ll make sure to keep things… entertaining for you. After all, it’s the least I can do for such a cooperative participant.”
He then turned to the other girls, addressing them with a gleeful tone that was disturbingly at odds with the situation. “Now, ladies, if you’ll gather around, I’m about to give you a little lesson in anatomy. See, we’re going to start right here.” He pointed the tip of his obsidian dagger at the entrance to Amina’s pussy, still leaking cum. “I’ll insert the blade here, nice and deep, and then we’ll split her open, right down the middle. Bisect her clit, carve through her belly, and then, well… we’ll see what we can pull out of her.”
Amina, her voice weak but still defiant, couldn’t resist one last comment. “Sounds like a party,” she muttered, her breath coming in labored gasps. “Just… just don’t forget to… give me a drink first. Wouldn’t want to… get dehydrated.”
The priest laughed once more, his hand resting on Amina’s trembling abdomen as he prepared to begin. “Oh, don’t worry, Amina. By the time we’re done, you won’t have to worry about anything at all.”
And with that, he began the gruesome process, the cheerful tone of his voice clashing horrifically with the reality of what was about to happen. Amina’s body was taut with pain, her jokes and defiance the only defense she had left against the inevitable, as the priest prepared to carve her open, his dagger poised to begin its brutal work.

As the chief priest’s obsidian dagger pressed against the entrance of Amina’s cum-soaked pussy, the atmosphere on the pyramid reached a fever pitch of twisted anticipation. The other girls, including Melita, watched in a mixture of horror and dark fascination as the priest began his gruesome work. Amina, her body nailed to the altar, trembled with a mixture of terror and the painful arousal that had been building throughout the night.
The priest, his grin widening, pushed the blade inside Amina’s pussy, the sharp edge slicing through her tender flesh. Amina gasped, her body jerking against the nails that held her in place. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, a white-hot flash that tore through her senses. But as the priest continued, her gasps turned to something else—a mixture of screams and moans that echoed across the pyramid.
“Oh… oh gods,” Amina gasped, her voice trembling with pain and twisted pleasure. “It’s… it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It hurts so much, but… but there’s something… I can’t… I can’t describe it…”
Next to her, Melita, unable to resist the dark pull of the scene before her, had begun touching herself, her fingers working frantically between her legs as she watched the blade carve through her friend’s body. The sight of Amina’s sex being split open, of her clit being bisected with the cruel precision of the priest’s knife, was both horrifying and strangely arousing. Melita’s breaths came in short, ragged gasps as she matched the rhythm of the priest’s cuts with her own movements.
Amina, her mind a whirl of pain and the faint, lingering remnants of arousal, tried to focus on Melita, on the only familiar face in this nightmare. “Melita,” she panted, her voice strained but still coherent. “It’s… it’s like I’m being torn apart… but… but at the same time, it’s like… I’m so close… to something… something I can’t reach…”
The priest’s blade continued its relentless journey, slicing upward through Amina’s abdomen, her belly splitting open like a delicate piece of fruit. The sensation of her body being opened, of her organs being exposed to the cold night air, was both agonizing and surreal. Amina screamed, the sound ripping from her throat, but even in her agony, there was a note of dark, twisted pleasure.
“Oh gods… Melita… it’s like… like I’m losing everything… but I can’t stop… can’t stop feeling it… the pain… it’s… it’s like it’s taking over everything…”
Melita, her own arousal reaching a fever pitch, could only nod, her eyes locked on the horrific scene before her. She was on the edge, her body trembling as she watched the priest’s blade carve deeper into Amina’s body, as the first glistening loop of intestines was exposed to the night. The sight of her friend’s insides being laid bare, of her body being emptied slowly and methodically, was both the most horrifying and the most arousing thing she had ever witnessed.
Amina, her mind slipping further into the abyss of pain and sensation, continued to speak, her words tumbling out in a desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of coherence. “It’s… it’s like I’m dying… but… but I can’t stop… I can’t stop feeling everything… I… I want it to end… but I don’t want it to end…”
As the priest attached her intestines to the pulley and began to slowly draw them out, inch by agonizing inch, Amina’s screams turned into something else—a series of desperate, guttural moans that were as much from pain as from the dark pleasure she had somehow found in her destruction.
“Melita… oh gods… it’s like… like I’m being… emptied out… like there’s nothing left… but the pain… but it’s… it’s the only thing… the only thing I can feel… I’m… I’m so close… so close…”
Melita, her own climax building, could barely respond, her fingers moving faster, her breath coming in gasps as she watched Amina’s body being systematically torn apart. The sight, the sounds, the overwhelming intensity of the moment pushed her over the edge, and with a shuddering moan, she came, her body convulsing with pleasure even as her friend’s life ebbed away beside her.
Amina, her vision dimming, could feel her life slipping away, but even in her final moments, she clung to the sensation, to the dark, twisted pleasure that had consumed her. “Melita… I… I think… I think I’m cumming… I think… it’s… it’s all I have left… oh gods… oh gods…”
And with one final, shuddering breath, Amina’s body went limp, her voice falling silent as the last of her life drained away. The priest, still smiling, continued his work, but for Melita, the world had narrowed to a single, agonizing point—the realization that she had just watched her friend die in the most brutal way imaginable, and that she had found pleasure in it.
As the night deepened and the ritual continued, Melita knew that her own time was coming soon. And despite the horror of what she had just witnessed, there was a part of her—a dark, twisted part—that longed to feel the same, to experience the ultimate sensation of pain and pleasure that Amina had described in her final moments.

- - -

Zephirantes · Aug 19, 2024

- - -

As Amina's final breath left her body, Melita stood frozen, watching her friend's lifeless form slumped on the altar, her abdomen a gaping wound, her intestines slowly unwinding from the pulley. The reality of what had just happened—a mixture of horror, pain, and a twisted form of ecstasy—hung thick in the air. The priests, moving with practiced indifference, began the process of detaching Amina's body from the altar, preparing to discard her remains from the top of the pyramid as was their custom.
Melita, still trembling from the aftermath of her own climax, could feel the cold night air on her sweat-slicked skin, mixed with the sticky warmth of the cum that still clung to her body, reminders of the brutal encounter with the soldiers. Cum continued to leak from her well-used holes, dripping slowly down her thighs, a stark contrast to the fresh blood that stained the altar.
She watched with morbid fascination as Amina's body was lifted and unceremoniously tossed from the pyramid, the lifeless form disappearing into the darkness below. A shudder ran through her, not from fear, but from the realization that her time had come. This was what she had been waiting for, what she had feared and craved in equal measure.
Taking a deep breath, Melita stepped forward, her bare feet sticky against the blood-slick stone. She moved with a kind of grim determination, her body still trembling but her mind resolute. She stretched her limbs, feeling the tension in her muscles, the residual aches from the rough handling earlier. She knew what awaited her, had seen it with her own eyes, and yet there was no turning back now.
"Well, that was… something," Melita remarked, her voice surprisingly steady as she approached the altar. The chief priest, who had just finished wiping the blood from his hands, looked up at her with an amused grin.
"Indeed,"he replied, his tone light and almost conversational, as if they were discussing a mundane topic rather than the grisly fate that awaited her. "You watched your friend go with such interest. Tell me, are you eager to take her place?"
Melita laughed, though the sound was more a mix of nerves and grim anticipation. "Eager? I wouldn’t say that exactly. But… I guess I’ve come this far. No point in turning back now. Besides, you promised me a good time, didn’t you?"
The priest chuckled, shaking his head as he gestured to the altar. "I did indeed. And I always keep my promises. Now, come—let’s not waste any more time."
Melita climbed onto the altar, her movements deliberate as she positioned herself where Amina had just been. She could still feel the warmth of her friend's blood beneath her as she lay back, stretching her belly taut, her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath. She lifted her arms, holding them out to the sides, and spread her legs, positioning her feet just as she had seen Amina do.
The priest, dagger in hand, watched her with a mixture of curiosity and dark amusement. "You’re quite the brave one, aren’t you? Most would be begging for mercy by now."
"Brave? Or just happy-go-lucky?" Melita quipped, a wry smile on her lips.
"Then," replied the priest, "your luck just got exhausted."
"But hey man, if I’m going out, I might as well go out with a bang," countered Melita, "or in this case, with a slice and dice."
The priest laughed, his eyes gleaming with approval. "I like your spirit. You’ll make a fine sacrifice indeed. Yog will be happy to have your life and torment you eternally with infernal fire."
As he prepared the nails, Melita couldn’t resist another joke, though her voice trembled just slightly. "Just… make sure you aim right, okay? I’d hate for you to miss and make this any worse than it has to be."
"Don’t worry, my dear," the priest replied as he positioned the first nail over her wrist. "I’m quite skilled at what I do. You won’t miss a single moment of what’s coming."
Melita winced as the nail was driven into her flesh, the pain sharp and immediate, but she forced herself to stay composed. "Oh, I’m counting on that. After all, I came here for the full experience."
The priest moved to her other hand, his movements swift and efficient. "And you shall have it. I’ll make sure of that."
As the second nail was hammered into place, Melita gritted her teeth, her breath hissing between her lips. But even through the pain, she managed a smirk. "You know, I never thought I’d be doing this. But then again, life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?"
The priest merely smiled as he moved to her feet, securing them to the altar in the same brutal fashion. Melita’s body was now completely immobilized, her limbs stretched out, her belly taut and vulnerable.
For a moment, there was silence between them, the night air thick with the anticipation of what was to come. Melita, her body thrumming with a mix of fear, pain, and a dark, twisted arousal, looked up at the priest with a final, defiant grin.
"It’s my turn now,"she said, her voice steady despite the tremors that wracked her body. "Open me up."
And then, to herself only, added, "Amina, I'm coming, I'll feel what you felt and then I'll be with your, forever tortured in Yog's Hell."
And with that, the ritual began anew, the priest’s blade gleaming in the torchlight as it descended toward her exposed flesh.

- - -

In the dimly lit lecture hall, the atmosphere was thick with a mix of unease and fascination as Professor Balkan closed the ancient, leather-bound book from which he had just read the harrowing tale of Amina and Melita.
Some say it is bound in human skin, but Professor Balkan himself doubts it, as it can be ordered on Amazon, in many copies: there's not all that human skin for such bindings, he reflected. "A pity, in fact."
The students, many of them still visibly shaken by the vivid descriptions, exchanged uneasy glances as they processed the brutal imagery that had been laid before them.
Professor Balkan, a man known for his unsettling enthusiasm for dark and esoteric subjects, leaned casually against his desk, his eyes scanning the room with a knowing smile. The tale had done its work—his students were captivated, if not horrified, by the twisted narrative they had just experienced.
"So," he began, his voice smooth and deliberate, "what do we make of Amina and Melita’s ordeal? What do their actions, their thoughts, tell us about the human condition in such dark, brutal times?"
One of the students, a young woman sitting near the front, raised her hand tentatively. "It’s… it’s almost like they were embracing their fate, right? I mean, they weren’t just victims—they were, in a way, choosing how they faced their end. It’s twisted, but there’s a kind of power in that, isn’t there?"
Professor Balkan nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her words. "Indeed, there is. Amina and Melita’s actions can be seen as a form of agency in the face of absolute helplessness. By embracing the horror of their situation, they reclaim some measure of control, even if it’s in the most disturbing of ways. They choose to face death on their own terms—or at least, as close to their own terms as the circumstances allow."
Another student, a young man with a troubled expression, spoke up. "But… the ending. It’s left open, isn’t it? We don’t actually see what happens to Melita. Do you think… do you think there’s a chance she survived? Maybe she found a way to escape?"
A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, several students nodding in hopeful anticipation. They wanted to believe that Melita, after everything she had endured, might have found some way out, some reprieve from the horrific fate that had claimed her friend.
But Professor Balkan, his smile growing a touch darker, shook his head slowly. "Oh, my dear students," he said, his voice laced with a strange, almost gleeful malice, "you misunderstand the nature of this tale. Hope has no place in the world from which this story originates. Melita’s fate is as sealed as Amina’s. There’s no escape for her, no last-minute reprieve. The story may end before we see it, but make no mistake—she was eviscerated, her body split open, her most intimate parts destroyed just as her friend’s were."
The professor’s words hung heavy in the air, and as he spoke, his grin widened, revealing a hint of something unsettling—something that made his students shift uncomfortably in their seats. A collective shiver seemed to run through the room, and several of the students instinctively drew their hands across their own bellies and crotches, as if to protect themselves from the imagery that had been conjured. Like her himself could actually gut them open, right there, right at that very moment.
A fleeting feeling, obviously.
One of the students, unable to suppress a nervous chuckle, tried to lighten the mood. "You’re really not giving us any happy endings here, Professor."
Balkan’s grin remained, his eyes gleaming with that strange, malicious light. "Happy endings? In tales like these? Oh no, my dear."
As the class drew to a close, Professor Balkan surveyed his students one last time, his grin fading into a more serious expression. "Remember this," he said, his tone now more solemn."These stories, disturbing as they are, serve as a reminder of the past—of the darkness that humanity has always had to contend with. But they also remind us of the resilience of the human spirit, even in the face of the most unimaginable horrors. Amina and Melita may not have survived, but in their final moments, they faced their fate with a kind of twisted courage. And that, my dear students, is something worth reflecting on."
With that, he dismissed the class, leaving his students to file out of the room, still unsettled by the tale they had heard and the dark, enigmatic smile of their professor.

Leaving the classroom last, he fondly caressed the amulet of Yog, Lord of the Empty Dwellings, which he always carries in his pocket, and that continues to whisper unspeakable cruelties from beyond the grave to his mind, since he was but a young archeology student...

THE END (?)

tygavin · Aug 19, 2024

You hit the target. One of the best human sacrifice stories I have read in a long time.

Zephirantes · Aug 19, 2024

tygavin said:
You hit the target. One of the best human sacrifice stories I have read in a long time.

Really? Thank you so much.

I am considering creating a sequel, based on the sinister character of Professor Balkan, or I could rearrange these a bit disconnected vignettes in a better, more homogeneous story.

Most probably I'll just leave it like this.

prtn · Aug 19, 2024

Do You know what would be great? that in the end Amina and Melita actually never experienced such a treatment but two of the most gorgeous female students will, either through time travel or reenactment. :very_hot:

You really are hitting the right buttons!

Zephirantes · Aug 20, 2024

prtn said:
Do You know what would be great? that in the end Amina and Melita actually never experienced such a treatment but two of the most gorgeous female students will, either through time travel or reenactment.

You really are hitting the right buttons!

Yeah, the re-enactment in college is an option.

Or, professor Balkan might use the ancient amulet to take some students with him back in time and give them to the Xotalanc tribe.

prtn · Aug 20, 2024

Zephirantes said:
Yeah, the re-enactment in college is an option.

Or, professor Balkan might use the ancient amulet to take some students with him back in time and give them to the Xotalanc tribe.

I vote for the amulet option since it's already mentioned earlier :clapping:

Zephirantes

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Apocalypta: some short vignettes [story, altar sacrifice, semi-consensual]