Description
Father’s Sacrifice
“Here,” the old priest dressed in black robes said as he leaned over the table handed Jill a worn leather binder. It was thick and heavy, much like the air inside the old chapel. Even though the building was still being used, it was decaying at the foundation and causing large cracks up the side of the walls. It smelled as if it were a damp, dank basement. Small Edison bulbs flickered on the walls, casting eerie shadows down the floor in long wavering lines.
“Thanks, Mr. Cullen,” Jill said, taking the book in her hands and setting it on the small wooden table in front of her. “What am I looking at?” Her fingers pulled open the binder to the first page. Black and white pictures lined down each page in columns. The date, along with a red signature, was just below each picture.
Cullen reached over and took his wife’s hand into his own. He squeezed it gently. “Well, now that you’ve come of age, you will learn a bit more about this town’s history. Your father wanted me to bring you on board just as soon as you turned eighteen.”
“My father? What does he have to do with this?”
“He wanted you to be… educated. We at the church disagree.” Cullen leaned in close enough that Jill could smell the sour whiskey on his breath. “I disagree, too. Young girls should listen without question.”
Jill felt a chill run up her spine. She reached up and pulled her long black hair into a bow. With it being her father’s birthday that very same day, she had taken the extra time to look cute. Jill reached into her little red purse and pulled out light pink lipstick. She couldn’t think about her father’s involvement in the church.
“So, educate me. Tell me, what do these dates mean?” Jill stared at the older man. She could tell he was hiding something.
“Those girls are the ones that have given their life to the covenant. We have a tradition that takes place every five years, or sometimes seven in certain cases, and each of the girls has taken a key role in the events.”
“You mean like they dedicated themselves to the church, or they died for the church?” Jill caressed her hair between her large breasts. She glanced over to Cullen’s wife. Immediately she noticed tears forming in the corner of her eyes.
Cullen chuckled, brushing beads of sweat off his forehead, “They dedicated themselves. Entirely. If you are given a chance, I highly recommend that you do. We find that the strongest witches are those that pledge early and participate in coven activities.”
“Pledge?”
Mrs. Cullen chirped, “Yes, you can pledge yourself, but don’t worry. You can wait for another year.” Her voice was shaky and uncertain.
Jill glanced back to the priest. “Tell me, what exactly does a pledge mean?” She bit her lip and awaited his reply. Ever since she had started researching pagan religions, she had become more and more interested in how the covenant worked. Now that she was old enough to be invited in, she was scared that she might just be making the wrong decision.
“It only means that you will give everything that you are to the covenant and any gods we follow. In return, you will receive power and fertility beyond your imagination. Of course, this takes years of practice, but we will teach you. Trust me; start early.
Jill felt her hand twitch as the lights flickered on the walls. “I… I should probably ask my father about this first.”
“Take the quill and draw your name in blood. Use this needle,” Mr. Cullen pulled a needle out of a small case beside his chair. “Poke yourself, and then draw. Do it. Do it now. Go.”
“Don’t pressure her,” Mrs. Cullen said as she put her hand on her husband’s arm. “She will join us when she is ready.”
Mr. Cullen turned his head and stared at his wife. “This year is the Jameson’s turn. Since they have no other offspring, it must be Jill that pledges.”
Jill smacked her hand down on the table. “You two are talking about me. I am right here. Tell me what the hell is going on!”
Both Mr. and Mrs. Cullen turned back towards Jill. They could see that the young Jameson girl was heated.
“Fine,” the priest said, leaning towards Jill. “The ceremony is technically a ritual. It happens every five years or so, like I said, but the one that participates must be filled with the seed of man, then sacrificed to the glory of Baphomet. Once that has been done, fertility will spread across the land for several years.”
Jill couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So, I am to be dedicated to Baphomet? And this happens on the Summer Solstice?”
Mr. Cullen nodded. “Yes. It is but a couple of days from now. Can I count on you to participate in your family’s behalf?”
Jill sighed, “I have to talk to my father about this before I commit to anything.” She felt her heart race as beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
“Let’s do a tarot reading for her. We must be certain that it is her that Baphomet requires,” Mr. Cullen said as he stood and walked over to a large altar filled with lit candles, herbs, and crystals. He picked up an ancient deck of cards with burnt and curled edges.
Jill watched. She knew what a tarot card reading was, and she sure as hell believed it would reveal what must be done. Leaning in, Jill watched as the elder sat back down and placed the deck of cards on the table. “I will draw three cards. We will then see your past, present, and future.”
Nodding, Jill saw the priest draw three cards and lay them face down on the table.
The priest flipped over the first card with a quick flip of his wrist. It was the Death card. “Interesting…” he whispered under his breath. “This means in the past, and there has been something that has died. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps it was a death of something bad, and with death, there is birth.”
Jill felt a tear form in the corner of her eye. She wiped it away. The priest was talking about her dedication from Christianity to Baphomet. It was in the recent past.
The next card flipped over. It was the Nine of Batons. “Just as I thought,” the priest said as he stroked his shaved chin. “You are approaching the greatest event in your life. You aren’t quite there, hence, the Nine and not Ten, but you are close. Just push through, and you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.”
Mr. Cullen glanced over at his wife. “It’s true…”
“Not necessarily. Flip the last card. We’ll know for certain,” Mrs. Cullen curiously.
The priest flipped over the final card. “It’s The World.”
“My word,” Mrs. Cullen whispered.
“What does this mean?” Jill said, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow.
The priest stared at her. To Jill, it felt as if he was staring into her very soul. His dark brown eyes remained unmoving for several moments as they exchanged the stare. “It means that you are to be sacrificed to Baphomet. There is no way around it. However, it was The World card. After you dedicate yourself to him, you will not only be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams, and you will inherit the world. Baphomet has great things planned for you. Why? I don’t know.”
Mrs. Cullen picked up a small pamphlet from beside her chair and pushed it towards Jill on the table. “Take this and read it over tonight. There is a lot involved, and it certainly isn’t for the faint of heart.”
On the front of the pamphlet was a single line, ‘The Rite of Adah.’
“I’ll read through it,” Jill said as she tucked the pamphlet into her pocket. The hair on her arms stood on end as the possibility of being the sacrifice crept into her mind. Feeling dizzy as she stood, she put her hand on the side of the couch. Suddenly the room spun around her as darkness filed her vision.
Mrs. Cullen quickly stood up and caught Jill before she fell over. She frowned as she glanced over at her priest husband. “I told you she wasn’t ready. Now, call the girl’s father. She isn’t riding her bike home.”
As Jill laid on the couch, unconscious, the priest spoke in a hushed tone to his wife. “Her father has already pledged her soul to Baphomet. It does not matter whether she signs in blood or not. Her soul belongs to Baphomet.”
“Doesn’t she have to be given away before we take her to the coven?” Mrs. Cullen sat back down on her chair and leaned back.
“Her father is the chosen one. I have seen it in my dreams.” The priest straightened his long black robe as he turned around and stared into the fireplace. The red and yellow flames reminded him of prior sacrifices.
~
Jill awoke. Looking around, she saw her bedroom. The bed was soft and cozy as she lay there, staring at the ceiling. Jill curled up inside the covers, noticing she was in her nightgown. A chill ran up her spine. How had she gotten home, and who had changed her? Jill felt her face flush in humiliation. A man had never seen her without clothes. It was something she was saving for when she was to be married one day.
There was a knock on Jill’s door. It was soft and gentle. “Good afternoon,” a man said on the other side of the door.
Jill immediately recognized it to be her father. “Afternoon? I passed out last night. Did I sleep all day?” She wiped the sleep from her eyes and sat up on the bed. Her light pink nightgown was translucent and showed off her small frame. Following her father’s gaze, she noticed he was staring at her breasts.
Quickly covering them with the blanket, Jill blushed. “Sorry…”
“No worries,” her father replied. He turned away from his daughter as his mind spun. The coven wanted him to take his daughter that very night. He knew what he had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. His very own daughter was to take her father’s seed and become the sacrifice to Baphomet. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and glanced back towards his daughter. “Get dressed. I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes.”
Jill watched as her father closed the door. Quickly jumping out of bed, she pulled the light nightgown over her head, exposing her nubile breasts and soft, tender skin. Her pussy was clean and bare. Light pink could be seen just between her little lips as her slit ran down between her legs.
Planning for a long jog to clear her mind, Jill dressed up in her tight black yoga pants and white sports bra. After situating her tits into the constricting bra, she headed downstairs into the kitchen. The smell of dinner cooking filled the hallway as she approached the sounds of her father cooking.
As she entered, she bit her lip. Her father was working tirelessly to prepare her favorite meal: salad, lasagna, and garlic bread. Glancing behind her, she saw the front door. She could slip out and run for a while and claim she forgot about dinner.
“Hey! I hope you are hungry. I’ve got your favorite!”
Jill gulped. She didn’t want to sit down with her father. It would be desperately awkward. Both she and most likely him, too, would know about the ceremony. Her stomach growled and got the best of her. “I’m starving- let’s eat,” she said, walking into the kitchen and picking up a plate and silverware. After filling a glass with water for her and her father, she sat at the table and watched him serve her a delicious platter. Suddenly it dawned on her why he was doing it. He was planning on her going through with the sacrifice and the fucking of his daughter beforehand.
As Jill’s father sat down at the small table, he beamed with delight. He didn’t want to have his daughter go through with the ritual, but it was something that had to be done, so he chose to be happy about it. “What did the priest tell you?” Even though he asked the question, he already knew the answer.
“Well, he told me I would be sacrificed, and I would have got you to cum inside of me tonight.”
Father chuckled, “It seems he got things a bit wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“First off. The sex will be with several members of the coven, not necessarily with me.”
Jill pondered for a few moments as she ate her food. Finally, she spoke up, “But— I was honestly looking forward to being with you rather than with the other men. How could I screw so many guys at once? It will be horrible! I’ve been with other boys and even men.”
“Well, this next part might throw you for a loop then. You see, after you have been sacrificed to Baphomet, you will be prepared and cooked for the banquet afterward.”
Jill put her fork down. She felt sick to her stomach.
“It will be over quickly. Trust me. I have been to many of these rituals. They always go well.”
Looking up from her plate of food to her father, Jill was at a loss for words.
“Do you want to renounce your soul?” Jill’s father said, questioning his daughter.
“I— I don’t know.” she replied in a hushed tone.
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