Sacrifice of Love – by M.Suzuyaki
Lucinda, the head of the female coven was getting married! She and Christine had been lovers, passionate. The thing was that Christine was also the lover of the groom-to-be, Charles. Christine did not know that he was Lucinda's lover as well, and was completely innocent, other than betraying her love for Lucinda, just to try making love with a man.
Lucinda found out and was enraged! In the old days, it was customary for a coven member, who wanted to move to the fifth degree, to sacrifice one of her children to the Goddess (related to Diana, the Huntress). Particularly if she were also getting married, which was rare. Most witches took lovers and merely used them. Men on the island were mere chattel, virtual slaves. It had been decades since there had been an involuntary human sacrifice; it was amazing how many men and women volunteered over the years. In this case, Lucinda, head of the coven demanded the death by fire of Christine, her betrayer.
The coven council convened and in short order acceded to Lucinda's demand, as unquestioned leader and the base betrayal being a capital offense. Christine had no say in the matter. It was decreed that Christine would be a fitting wedding sacrifice to Lucinda and the Goddess. Christine was allowed to speak at her sentencing. As a loyal follower of the Goddess and still in love with Lucinda, she swore her loyalty and said that she was ready to die for the Goddess and Lucinda, but not out of shame, and begged for the mercy of the knife on the altar, a beautiful ceremony that she had participated in as a novice Priestess a number of times.
As Lucinda's lover and novice Priestess, she handed the ceremonial knife to Lucinda on one occasion, and always with a volunteer victim. Flowers, incense, the coven members and guests in pretty dresses, (no males allowed) organ music, the girl's choir, dressed in their white dresses with demure veils, not unlike a Catholic Mass, other than it was for a pagan Goddess, and Priestesses with their stunning sheer strapless red gowns, with the tight corset supporting bare breasts, the dress completed with their red satin hoods and black eye masks.
It was a fairly quick though painful death. The victim was securely bound to the Altar, after being ritually disrobed in front of the congregation. Both men and women dressed in a ceremonial white dress and veil much like a bridal gown, decked with fragrant flowers. It had lately been the custom to dress the men in women's lingerie and clothing, as a sign of full humiliation and submission to the Goddess, in addition to making them easier to handle and less likely to run away. This was done for the required one month preparation of sacrificial victims. the preparation period was to ensure it was voluntary, as the sacrifice would be unclean otherwise.
One of the novice Priestesses would hold their heads and
tell them to look only at her, so they didn't see what would happen. The
belly was slit open with a swift cut across the top and one on the
bottom, then a deep slice down the middle, and the skin peeled back like a book
by the razor-sharp knife and as blood poured out onto the Altar's gutters, the
oracles were divined from the entrails, in the ancient Roman tradition. The
victim was gagged lest he or she utter an obscenity. Cruel-looking nipple
piercing clips were used that actually focused the victim's attention away from
the searing pain of the knife. Christine remembered one handsome young
man devastated by lost love, that she wanted to
love, as she comforted him holding his head. It was sad and beautiful. But death by fire? Oh no! That could not be! This was 1958,
not 1858! They dwelt on a lonely island near
She wept bitterly as Lucinda again demanded the full penalty. The council decreed the sentance be upheld but with a recomendation for mercy, at Lucinda's pleasure on her wedding day. Christine's advocate assured her that if she behaved and cooperated, she was sure that she could convince Lucinda to allow the rententum, strangulation once the fire began to burn.
The fire was only for the most heinous of crimes, and it had been over 20 years since one of the coven had been executed that way. In her case, it had been by slow fire, as she had murdered one of the other members. It had been filmed, and Christine had watched it once after comming of age, at 18, as part of her education. She had been horrified, the piercing shrieks, even through the gag as the fire took the murderess had been heart-rending. Right in front of this same chapel. It took over an hour for her to die, writhing in her chains. as the flames licked at her slowly. She could hardly move in her bonds, her face veiled like a bride, with a crown of flowers, naked from the waist up, her nipples pierced with cruel barbs. She fainted a number of times, until the flames rose high enough to take her torso, she finally died. It was awful and now the same fate awaited her!
Christine was remanded to custody of the chapel, where she was chained night and day, allowed to pray to the Goddess at any time, which she did on her knees most of the time. The chapel was readied for the wedding, flowers filled the old former church, the statue of the Goddess dressed in new gowns. Christine also heard the scaffold being built outside the chapel's doors and she shivered in horror. She was puzzled why Lucinda never came to visit her, and was always sick with worry over her fate, unable to eat, other than a few bites. Yet as she prayed to the beautiful Goddess's statue, she felt an almost erotic thrill at the thought of her dying for the capricious and beautiful Lucinda, whom she still loved with all her heart, in spite of her sampling love with a man. Would he be there to witness her sacrifice also? She became wet at the thought of her writhing in agony as Lucinda watched in pleasure, to make love that evening with her man. How beautiful, how glorious to die for the pleasure of her lovely Lucinda!
Christine was fitted for her sacrificial gown, a satin wedding gown. The Priestesses fussed over her fitting her as she stood chained lest she try to escape, but she stood complacent. The ritual would see her on her knees in a pre-wedding ceremony, with the beautiful white dress and veil, then she would be ritually disrobed to her slip to lay upon the altar for the wedding ceremony, as the host or sacrifice, under the sheer red sacrificial veil. On concluding the wedding ceremony, the guests would be seated on the stands surrounding the scaffold, she would be led out to the stake.
Lucinda visted her the morning of the wedding. She called her a traitor and a bitch and said that she looked forward to her torture. Christine, devastated at the hatred Lucinda displayed, swore her undying love for her and her willingness to die for Lucinda, even by fire, and begged forgiveness. Lucinda sneered at her and left. Christine was bathed and dressed in her sacrificial gown and full-length veil, in a state of near shock.
The coven witnessed the sacrificial rite prepratory to the wedding, with Chrisitine on her knees holding a large, heavy candle in one hand as penance before the Goddess. The pain in her back was awful but she held the candle as the Latin service ran to its conclusion, for almost an hour.
She was disrobed and lay on the Altar as the wedding ceremony commenced. It was beautiful, full of flowers and perfume, and the pretty girl's choir filled the chapel with song to the Goddess, Christine under the sheer red sacirificial veil, unbound, laying calmly on the altar. As the wedding ceremony concluded, Lucinda was asked if she had decided on mercy for Christine. No, she said, the bitch deserved to die for her betrayal! Charles, the only male, looked on in horror, not believing that this would actually happen, but was quieted by a look from Lucinda, his new bride. "These are matters outside your hands! Be silent!" She commanded.
Lucinda bent down to Christine and whispered in her ear: "I forgive you and still love you, but you must die for me, my love, for my pleasure, do you love me too?" Chrisitine, overcome with joy, whispered that yes, she would gladly suffer the torment to come if only to pleasure you! She felt calmed by the forgiveness. Lucinda was asked if she would like to insert the barbs, as the aggrieved party. She smiled and said she would love to. The barbs were kept in a golden box. They were metal spring clips, with a cruel, large needle that threaded the clips.
Christine was bound to the altar by the Priestesses. Lucinda, beautiful in white, diaphanous wedding gown and lovely veil, exposed each of Christine's breasts and opened the cruel clips, so she could insert the needle into Christine's erect nipples. She inserted the needle as Christine gasped in pain, then let the clip close hard, pinching the punctured nipple, eliciting a shriek of pain from Christine that was horrifiying. She was panting as the second barb was inserted in the other breast, shrieking again. Christine was weeping tears of pain. Now, the final barb......her panties were pulled down, exposing her now-erect clitoris. Lucinda spread the lips with one hand and pierced the clitoris with the other, and let the clip close on it. Christine shrieked and screamed in pain. The wedding guests and congregation were shocked into silence. Christine weeped hysterical tears, but gradually the sharp pain subsided into a tolerable agony, and she was un-bound, still weeping.
The Priestesses gravely sat Christine up and helped her trembling, onto the floor, understanding why she would find it hard to stand, and were moved almost to tears at her bravery. One final humiliation awaited her...the leather girdle used for all sacrificial victims, one for males and one for females. The Priestesses supported her, and they strapped on the female leather belt, with its thin leather thong with its two attached protruberances, one for the anus, the other for her vagina. She shrunk in horror as the belt was placed around her and the inserts guided deep into her orrifices, which she had seen done may times on sacrificial victims, They invariably had an orgasm on the Altar anyway and the belt ensured that there would be no mess. The thong was tightened, biting deep into her vagina, spreading the lips, the insert deep inside, giving erotic stimulation, yet accentuating the pain of the cruel barbed clip on her clitoris. Her hands were bound behind her back.
Her white veil and crown of flowers was carefuly arranged and she was led slowly to the scaffold outside, hanging her head, in tears of sharp pain, not wanting to look at the expectant crowd, gaily dressed in pretty gowns, bright colors, full petticoats framing lovely legs like the petals of a flower. In front of the gothic chapel, the girl's choir sang hymns to the Goddess accompanied by the chapel's piano which had been rolled out for the occaision, right behind the scaffold.
She walked slowly, trembling, stumbling slighty, as she refused to look at the scaffold, the Priestesses gently helping her. She finally looked up, and gasped in horror. The scaffold was six feet high, and bundled straw and wood was heaped about the base, but very far below the platform, which was like a grill, with gaps between the narrow boards. On the platform was a fiery brazier with pokers in the hot coals. Two masked women stood on it, one in a white dress and the other in a simple leather teddy and lace-up high-heeled boots, both wearing black masks. Christine recognized the woman in the lace dress, and realiized it was her enemy, Camilla, who had hated her since she was a child...so she would torment her! It hit her like a blow to the stomach. "No, NO!" she cried, and tried to pull away, but the two Priestesses gently coaxed her on, comforting her..that it would soon be over. Camilla smiled at her briefly.
Christine could not find the strength to mount the steep stairs to the platform and was helped up by the Priestesses, while the two 'executionesses' stood hands on hips, impatiently. Christine trembled as she was led up the stairs, finally grabbed by Camilla and the other, who quickly grabbed one arm each, in a tight grip. Camilla held her while the executioness removed her satin slip, leaving her naked except for her bra, garter belt, nylons and heels, and replaced the veil and crown of flowers.
They made her back up against the stake, untied her hands and they forced her arms behind the stake, to manacles attached to it, so her wrists crossed behind her, very uncomfortable, forcing her back up against the cruel wooden stake. Next, a neck brace was clamped around her neck and tightened to the stake, then her feet were clamped in manacles that were attached to the sides of the stake. Leather straps were placed around her waist and just below her breasts and tightened so she could not move. The executioness in leather, whom Christine did not know, asked her forgiveness. Christine nodded.
"Will I get a blindfold," she asked through the fog of her pain, "I...I could not bear them looking at my face, I'm afraid.......they will see my pain, the agony...I'm embarrassed....." The pretty executioness appologized and said no, Lucinda had forbidden it. How humiliating, Christine thought, and a wave of pleasure broke through and she moaned.
Camilla bent down to remove her heels, and Christine begged her not to take them off, but Camilla said that the worse the pain, the sooner it would be over, and removed her shoes anyway, her stocking feet resting now on a metal bar that went through the stake. They then removed her bra, revealing the barbed breasts, red and slightly bloody.
Camilla was business-like and grim, not smiling. She was firm with Christine. "Yes, I still hate you, you miserable bitch," she told Christine, "for betraying me for Lucinda, but I won't hurt you more than necessary." Part of the sentance required torture with the branding irons. She whispered in her ear: "The branding will actually help you endure the fire to come.....trust me!" She said tenderly and allowed herself a slight smile. Christine, her arms aching, the leather thong biting into her vagina, the barb and cruel clip pinching her clitoris and the thong's inserts stimulating her, she grew wet again and moaned in pleasure. How delicious to be tortured by my enemy, for my lovely Lucinda's pleasure, completely at their mercy. She moaned again, the pain and pleasure consuming her passion.
Camilla gently placed a leather gag in front of her, and Christine shook her head, refusing the gag. "Come, Christine, you must accept the gag, it will be better this way, come on..there's a good girl," as she held up Christine's veil and placed the gag in her mouth, strapping it around the stake. She went behind and cinched it tightly, forcing Christine's head tightly against the little cushion for the head on the stake, lest the victim try to knock herself out. The gag bit into her mouth. At that moment she came, a shattering orgasm. Camilla understood, and drew her fingers lightly over Christine's naked belly and breasts tenderly. "You know, as soon as Lucinda is with child, Charles will go to the Altar," she whispered in Christine's ear with an evil smile. Christine shuddered and tried to cry out but the gag muffled her. She sank into despair.
"I'm sorry to do this Christine..." as Camilla said as she took one of the glowing branding irons and quickly placed it on Christine's right buttock. Christine shrieked in agony as the flesh bubbled and smoked, at first feeling like ice, then fire. The letter 'L' was burned into her. Next, the letter 'U' and so on, Christine shrieking muffled by the gag, her eyes screwed up in unbearable pain, as the name 'Lucinda' was burned first across her buttocks and then her stomach, her bonds so tight she was unable to move, the smell of burning flesh rose in the air. The hymns continued. Christine was close to madness.
Charles was horrified, the gaily dressed crowd appeared to enjoy the horror. He looked on his new bride with a new understanding, as she sat, riveted, a mysterious smile on her veiled face, moaning lightly in pleasure. To his utter horror, he felt a strange erotic pleasure as well. He also felt disgust welling up inside..thinking to himself.. "this is sick....this can't be happening!!"
Lucinda, stood up and left the dias and moved through the younger girls kneeling around the scaffold in prayer to the Goddess. She took the burning torch and set fire to the stacked brush and wood. A crackle of flame arose. Camilla kissed the almost unconcious Christine, moaning in pain through her gag, and left, the other executioness asked Lucinda for her pleasure, the mercy of the retentum or the slow fire? Lucinda, became wet at the thought and smiled. "The fire...let the bitch BURN!"
The executioness bowed, and climbed down the scaffold. The crackle of flames grew stronger, smoke curling up. The Priestesses chanted the ancient prayers to the Goddess. One of the women brought up more brush and another stack of wood, and the executioness added them to the fire, which rose in smoky sparks as the dry brush caught fire. Camilla removed her mask and moved over to Lucinda's side and affectionately held her hand, then moved to give her a kiss on the lips. Christine, through her veil and the agony of her burned flesh, groggily watched Lucinda and Camilla kiss and hold each other. The music and hymns finally ceased.
The flames began to burn hoitter and were roasting her. They began to lick at her feet, melting the nylons agonizingly, as she curled her feet up, but unable to escape the searching flames, the leg irons holding her firmly down. The fire licked up her legs sensuously, further melting her nylons, scorching her skin, the fire not unlike ice. She came again and again in a series of soul-shattering orgasms, her humiliation complete, betrayed and abandoned, Lucinda and Camilla in affectionate embrace, her pain giving them pleasure. The flames licked slowly at her now scorched legs, the melted nylons black, her skin burning agonizingly. Tears of pain rolled down her cheeks, sweating, the pain unbearable, her face, partly shlelded by the pretty white veil, screwed up in agony.
Charles was horrified, and began to shout out to stop this madness, but Lucinda's bridesmaids held him firmly and told him to be quiet, or the same thing could happen to him if he interferred with the sacred ceremony. He felt sick and wished he now had not gotten involved with Lucinda or Christine. The bridesmaids grinned knowingly, although he didn't know the score on the island, he was mere chattel now, a slave to his new bride and would soon climb the altar once Lucinda was pregnant.
The fire played with her for over half an hour, her muffled shrieks in hysterical rythym, having one shattering orgasm after another as the unspeakable pain awakened evry fibre in her tortured body. The flames climbed higher, singeing her vaginal hair, melting the garter belt and reached her torso. Many in the crowd were sickened and began to leave in disgust. Christine fainted, then revived as the cruel flames licked at her tourtured, burned skin, climbing higher as the executioness put more brush on the pyre to hurry it along, feeling disgust at Lucinda's lust for pain. The scaffold planks themselves were burning. The flames reached her tourtured breasts and her veil began to melt, her hair catching fire and her last sight was Lucinda sensuously kissing Camilla with great passion, obviously having an orgasm and the Priestesses chants rose into the air with the fire. "How I love you, Lucinda," Christine thought as she came again and again, the flames blackening her breasts, before she died.............
Christine awoke in a cold sweat. It was a lovely
She carefully removed the cruel nipple clips and hurriedly pulled up her panties and grabbed for her pleated skirt, adjusting her soft, white kneesocks, breathless. "I'll be right out......give me a minute!" she strapped the green plaid pleated skirt on, extra short and straightened her blond pony tail smooth and perky, her lacy red bra just showed through the fine white shirt peaking out of her college blazer. Even though she was over 21 and a senior in college, she still went for the preppy look, rather than the more grungy look of her classmates. Didn't she get better grades then? Impress the professors? She grinned in the mirror....she was starting creative writing class today, and became wet at the thought of the a series of stories she planned on writing on the little world she had invented. She dashed out the door and down the stairs, book bag in tow, and smiled at pretty Camilla and the love of her life, Lucinda, looking, as always, regal and lovely.