Illustration (N&V 114)

After drinking the ritual wine, it felt like I was going to float away. My sisters caught me, though, and brought me to the side of the temple, laying me carefully in a protection circle. None of them seemed affected. I tried to apologize for not being able to help with the ceremony, but the words wouldn’t come out, and I think I slept.

The next month, I went to the temple early, to ask the priestess for advice on being late in my cycle. While I waited for her I saw the Book on the altar, and curiosity drove me to look up the ritual I had missed out on. It was lavishly illustrated, with descriptions of the Devotion and the Sacrament. I was confused because it looked like the Sacrament was a part of the ritual, yet not. She had her own elixir, and her own circle, apart from the coven, yet somehow was also its focus.

Turning the page, my heart skipped a beat. Not because of the illustration, because I had seen many like it before, but because I recognized the figures in it. The Book was old – many generations old, but the woman depicted in the ancient parchment’s illumination, she was the Sacrament, and she looked just like – she was was me, clear as day. And the other figure… A memory of the great head above me flashed in my mind. Hot skin, steel-hard hands and…

As I stared in terrified awe and memory, the awful head in the illustration moved. Ink sliding on parchment like a living thing. It turned toward me, as if staring out from the page, and it seemed that its eyes glowed. The figure’s hips flexed, lines of ink moving like the most fluid animation, and I saw its great cock slide partway out of the representation of me, and then plunge back in. I gasped aloud, as watching stirred another memory, as if emerging from a dream, of an immense shaft filling me with terrible ecstasy.

The horned beast head moved again as it fucked, rearing back to roar on the page. I heard nothing, but the dread sound rang in my memory, with the sensation of being filled with fire, and the memory of frightful wondrous climax. My hand went to my belly as I shuddered deeply, and something inside me shivered as well, independently.

I jumped at the touch of the priestess’ hand on mine. She smiled at me, nodding. 

‘Yes, you are the Chosen among us.”

The thing inside me shivered again, and I didn’t know whether I was starting to cry in joy, or dread, or both.

Categories: Erotic Fiction, Fantasy, Impregnation, Magic, Monocle, Monster, Nightmares & Visions, SupernaturalTags: , , ,


I am the little devil on your shoulder, stroking your neck with my tail, whispering obscenities into your ear, and looking down your blouse. One third of The Erotic Writer blog.

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