There was a unique sect of paganism that began as a cult and turned into almost a religion in late 14th century England. The sect was called "The Bringers" and their most sacred ceremony required human sacrifice.
Usually the ceremony required the priestess to first rape and then kill a willing male of breeding age. If the priestess became pregnant from the sacrifice, her daughter after reaching her majority would take her place allowing the priestess to retire with honor.
The position of priestess was something to be desired, but her sex life wasn't much to be desired. She could only have sexual relations during the sacrificial ritual. And the ritual could only be performed once a year on the shortest day, during the shortest hour of the winter solstice.
The practitioners of this cult believed that if the ritual didn't come off just right then they were doomed to a torturous year to follow, so it was important that everyone played their part well.
Finally in the 1340's the Catholic Church eradicated all but a few of "The Bringers".
But even after centuries of obscurity the ritual still takes place at least once a year at the very moment prescribed. It may be just a group of kids that discovered a manuscript and decided to defy convention. Or it might be a group of Satanists that stumbled upon the ritual and think it was devised just for them.
The one constant factor is that someone, someplace in the world, has observed the ritual at least once each year.
One wonders what would happen if the chain were ever really broken?
The priestess stood in the shadows as the young strong looking Chinese man was led into the room. She watched him with interest wondering how he would hold up under the coming ritual. In the five years that she'd been the "Bringer of the Solstice," she'd never done it with a Chinese man before. He looked, well, interesting--
Warren Wong was a handsome man with strong clean limbs and a well-formed body. He obviously worked out and under normal circumstances he would have been able to fight his way out of a situation like this. Although he was an unwilling participant of the evening's events he was powerless to protect himself from the people that surrounded him.
Blindfolded with a black cloth bag tightly tied over his head and tied hand and foot, Warren was completely at their mercy. And when priestess walked confidently up to him and gripped his balls through the material of his jeans, her powerful fist squeezing him hard; all he could do was groan in pain and double over.
The flame-haired priestess looked down at the young Chinese man and wondered again briefly how he would hold up. She hoped that he would do better than the big black man she's undergone the ritual with last solstice. He'd been a big disappointment to her and the disciples. He was such a big and powerful looking man that she thought he would have held up better.
She could still recollect what a magnificent male specimen he'd been. All muscle, black and shiny, with thighs like knotted tree trunks and a manhood that was impressive even when flaccid. But he had disappointed her most bitterly. When the ritual had come and she'd begun to "bring" him, he'd just cried and whined like a baby.
But as the golden-skinned Chinese man knelt at her feet, the priestess was heartened by his defiant silence. She hopped that his silence was a good sign, but no one could really tell what kind of man he was until the "Bringing Ritual" began.
Warren was made to stand again. He flinched at the tough of the woman's hands upon his arm. The priestess smiled when she saw this, it always aroused her when a big strong man flinched at her touch. Then she turned to her disciples and said gruffly, "Strip him, and be quick about it. It is almost midnight."
Warren heard her and felt hands pulling at his clothing. He felt sick to his stomach with fear. How had he come to be here? What were they doing to him? Then his memory cleared slightly from the drug he'd been unsuspectingly fed and he remembered the pretty white girl who had been standing outside the strip bar.
She'd beckoned him around the corner just outside the circle of light shining down from above. He'd thought that she was a prostitute and he was more than willing to pay for a piece of something that looked so hot.
She was tall and had a curvy body. But what really grabbed Warren's interest was her flame-red hair and utterly white skin. She looked almost unearthly and was most definitely one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. He would have paid any price to touch her, to climb between her legs, to fuck her-Yes any price.
The last thing Warren remembered was leaning in to kiss her. She'd invited him to kiss her. As his lips touched hers he felt faint. Then he was struggling to breathe, but she held him tight in a passionate kiss and it seemed as though she was sucking the breath right out of him. Then he began to crumple to the ground. The last thing Warren remembered before waking up here blindfolded, was someone laughing, a high-pitched feminine laughter.
As the disciples tore at his clothes Warren tried to pull away, but it was no use. He could feel his clothing being pulled and cut away. What was happening? He blindly jerked away from his captures and fell to the ground. But that just made it easier for the hands to pull his pants and underwear from him. In moments Warren lay naked on the ground.
The flame-haired priestess inspected the Chinese man's body, looking for any defects or imperfections. She knew that if she found any that it would be her responsibility to find another man suitable for the ritual. It was too late to find anyone else other than a disciple. The ritual must take place in the next few moments.
Luckily the Chinese man's body was perfect, no blemishes no birth defects. His golden body was beautifully smooth, with light wisps of black hair under his armpits and encircling his manhood, with a little pubic hair peppering his heavy balls. His muscular body showed that he worked out, and as he struggled she could see his sinus ripple under his smooth skin.
The priestess liked what she saw, and sighed with satisfaction as the naked blindfolded man was pulled to his feet and led to the stone slab.
The drums began to beat their slow mournful rhythm and the priestess thrilled in anticipation of the coming ritual.
The handsome Chinese man was pushed down onto the cold stone while several disciples grabbed his wrists and ankles and spread him wide. They tied him to the four brackets that had been pounded into the stone for that purpose, all the while fighting against the struggling man's body.
The priestess watched silently as these tasks were performed, just as the ritual required. A disciple pulled a jug of warm oil from beside a low fire that was kept alive just for this purpose. The robed disciple walked over to the bound man and slowly tipped the jug until a fine string of warm oil began to flow out and onto his writhing nude body.
The priestess stepped forward and ran her hand through the flow of oil temporarily breaking the string's flow. Then she lowered her small hand to his chest and began to smear the oil over his golden flesh. She enjoyed the feel of his slick skin under her oil-coated fingers. And with a sigh of satisfaction she saw his manhood jump into life when she brushed her hand along one side of his still flaccid shaft.
The priestess intoned, "Disciple. Pour your essence oil directly upon his manly parts. Make him ready for the bringing ceremony."
Warren jumped at the sensation of flowing oil splashing onto his stiffening cock. Then he jumped again as a hand touched him and began to squeeze and massage it. Within seconds he was fully hard and as the small oil- coated hand continued to massage his cock-shaft Warren moaned quietly and involuntarily arched his back at the pleasurable sensations.
The disciples watched as the flame-haired priestess stroked the writhing Chinese man's tool into full flower. Soon it was straining for release, all covered with veins. Flesh expanding and retracing with each heartbeat. Blood coursing through his tool in an ever- quickening pulse. His manhood stood out quivering proudly, all pink and purple with blue veins, throbbing with the warmth of life.
The priestess slowly bowed over the prostrate Chinese man and brought the bulbous oil soaked head to her lips. She kissed it as though it were her lover. Fondling it as if it were her baby, caressing the shaft and finally sinking down on it to the root so that her painted lips were crushed against his wispy black pubic hair.
Warren involuntarily arched his back and moaned as he felt himself slide deep into a warm wet throat. Even though he couldn't see, he knew what was happening. Even through his blindfold he could see in his mind's eye the flame-red haired girl going down on him. The sensations welling up in him were amazing.
Then the chanting began. Warren couldn't make out the words exactly. They sounded strangely muffled and then he realized that he had a bag over his head, oh god what is this? He wondered for the thousandth time.
The chanting sounded something like "Make him come, make him come," but Warren just couldn't be sure, the chant was just a little too indistinct.
But when he felt the fingers fumbling at his crotch and knees coming down on both sides on his hips he could guess what was coming next. All of a sudden Warren wasn't sure if he really minded being their captive. If it truly was the red-haired woman who'd tricked him, well, he'd wanted to fuck her anyway, so what difference did it make if a few people watched them doing it.
Warren groaned in pleasure as a warm wet cunt engulfed his stiff shaft sending wonderful shivers of delight through his body in delicious shooting spasms. And when she began to ride him in a rocking motion Warren couldn't help himself, he began to moan in pleasure and the girl atop his body began to pick up the pace.
From somewhere in the distance and in the back of his mind, Warren heard a clock striking the hour. As the first strike sounded the girl on top of him gasped and he could tell that she was orgasming on his stiff member. It excited him to know the pleasure she was receiving from their union, and that brought him closer to his own orgasm.
The second strike and she lay over his body and shivered as her orgasm racked her body. He could feel her naked warm breasts heaving against his naked chest.
As the third strike sounded Warren heard her breathe into his ear, "Come for me baby, fuck me, make me pregnant with your child." The fourth strike sounded, and then the fifth.
The woman atop Warren began to rock back and forth on his stiff manhood, now screaming at him, "Fuck me, fuck me harder, come in me, come in me now!" The clock struck for the seventh time.
Warren was by this time on the verge of coming. At first he didn't know what to make of the woman's wild actions, but when she started screaming at him to come in her he just let go and began to thrust up at her cunt with his hard cock. She matched his rhythm as if it were the most natural thing that had ever been.
The clock struck for the eighth time.
It was just too much for Warren. The feeling of the woman's warm wet cunt wrapped around his cock, her small hands pressing against his chest as she wildly road him. It just felt too good.
The clock struck for the ninth time and Warren felt the final flush of passion pump out past his prostate gland and pulse up his cock shaft and into the warm wet receptacle of the priestess' grasping cunt.
The clock struck for the eleventh time.
Warren groaned in ecstasy as he began to pump his come deeply into his partner's body. She was still riding him wildly, trying to milk him for everything he was worth.
Then in Warren's subconscious he heard the clock strike for the twelfth time. It wasn't an actual thought because all he was really thinking about at that moment were the wonderful feelings that the flame-haired woman's cunt was giving him.
When it had all begun Warren had been afraid. He'd been an unwilling captive. But now as he pumped the last few gushers of hot come into the priestess' body he was no longer an unwilling participant.
At that moment, in that nanosecond of time when Warren had become a willing participant, the knife slid home between his ribs into his heart. The knife was twisted expertly in the small fragile hand and then shoved deeper.
Warren's manhood throbbed one last time and then he exhaled and was dead.
Minutes later the priestess was handing around the equally sliced pieces of Warren's still warm heart and they were all discussing the ritual and how well it had gone as they nibbled.
The priestess glanced over at Warren's cooling corps and smiled lovingly at him. He hadn't been a disappointment at all. Maybe if she hadn't become pregnant with his child, (which she hadn't in the past rituals) maybe she'd just try and find another Chinese man next year.
And if he'd made her pregnant and she was no longer the "Bringer of the Solstice," well she'd have her child to keep her company, and to take her place eventually.