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She begins to thrash into me.
A dark growl seeps from me as my hips pound against her. “Take her soul, she is yours!” My teeth bite down on her chin. I bite deeper until I feel the skin break and her blood explode in my mouth. She begins to convulse frantically beneath me, shaking so hard, she almost knocks me from her.
“Yes! Take her! She is my gift to you!” She’s shaking wildly, and it only succeeds to add furor to my euphoria. “Look favorably upon me!” I smash my hips against her, “So that I may,” harder, “fulfill my destiny!” My back arches, curving so far back, my face is level with the ceiling, as the final anointment shoots continuously from me. When it finally stops, and the sacrifices tremors have lessened, I lift slightly from her to gaze at the joining of the white seed and the red communion.
I drag my tongue along the wound on her face to take one more sip from the communion chalice. Her body. “Thank you for accepting my gift.” I glide my length against her once again. “Bless me with your power.” The last divine tremors pass through me and I let out a long breath.
The sacrifice’s eyes are open, but unfocused. She’s alive, but she’s in shock. It’s important for them to be alive for the last part.
Dismounting from the altar, there’s still one more part that must be fulfilled. I walk to the pile of clothes, where the priest’s maniple and stole sit. I pick them up and the jug of water. Soaking the article of clothing, I wipe the blood from me, just enough for me to be able to exit the building. I get dressed, then look at the ax laying on the floor.
This is the consecration of the sacrifice for the sin of sloth.
I pick up the ax, walk to the altar, and swing. One of her hands falls to the ground. The sacrifice screams in her delirium, now harsh and rough, her throat must be raw. I walk to the other side and dismember the other one, and let it stay where it falls.
I see her body is convulsing again, much like a snake’s tail would after it’s been cut off. I throw the stole and maniple over her body, a tool to further consecrate her, before I walk toward the rooms behind the sanctuary and altar.
From the doorway, I turn, flick the match against the box and throw it. “May the fires of your powers grow stronger.”
The trail of gasoline I left earlier lights and ignites the circle that surrounds the altar. I turn and walk toward the back the door as her screams begin once again for the final time.
“Praise be,” I mumble. I smile, knowing the queen will be coming and will see what I left her, my body already craving the next sacrifice.
Soon, I’m coming for you.
