Sacrifice on the Altar

Bernard followed the eerie stranger as if pulled by strings. His gaze was glued to her hips, which swung back and forth hypnotically as she walked. Her body was too disproportionate and twisted in a disturbing way to be called beautiful in any classical sense. Nevertheless, she exerted an irresistible attraction on him.

As if he were in a trance, Bernard put one foot in front of the other. He casually took in his surroundings, which had become a familiar home to him over the past few weeks. The mountain church with its simple architecture, its interior characterized by a calm, devout atmosphere. The walls were made of plastered stone and kept in neutral colors, decorated in some places with subtle frescoes and images of saints. The rows of dark wooden benches showed signs of wear from years of prayers and services.

The altar stood in the center of the choir and formed the heart of the church. It was little more than a stone pedestal covered with a colorful altar cloth to give it solemnity. On the cloth waited the various objects that Bernard had provided for the liturgy. In the center stood a tabernacle, a small cabinet that housed the consecrated hosts. Two candlesticks were placed next to it, their flames flickering gently and casting a warm light over the altar. It was reflected in the gilded chalice that the pastor wanted to use during the mass for the consecration of the wine into the blood of Christ. Next to the chalice was a paten, a flat plate on which the host was placed during the mass. As a personal touch, Bernard had placed a vase of freshly cut flowers, giving the altar a solemn yet natural touch.

With a sweeping motion of her arm, the woman wiped everything from the altar. The paten and chalice clattered onto the cold stone and rolled away. The tabernacle crashed to the floor and burst open, scattering its contents all around. Bernard winced painfully, as if she had struck him as he witnessed the desecration. But he neither protested nor thought to clean up the mess.

Instead, he watched calmly as the demoness sat down on the altar with a flourish, using the fine embroidered cloth as a sheet.

"Come!"

He perceived the word more in his mind than he heard it. Awkwardly, he staggered closer. Every step an inner struggle. Oh, he knew how wrong all this was. He was about to betray his faith, break every rule and desecrate his own church in the most shameful way.

And yet that was exactly what he wanted.

His gaze was fixed on the woman, who was leaning back lasciviously, her legs spread wide so that he could gaze unhindered at her glistening fiery red vulva. His member twitched in unbridled anticipation. Primal instincts took control.

It was surprisingly difficult for him to climb the altar she had previously swung herself onto with ease. But this obstacle could no longer stop him. He knelt before her, heated and breathing heavily, searching her gaze for a hint that she also recognized what a transgression he was about to commit. If she would at least acknowledge the sacrifice he was making by throwing his entire life and his deepest convictions on a dung heap only to have a fleeting moment with her, then he could take some comfort from it. But there was nothing of the sort.

Her sardonic smile proved that this was exactly her aim. She intended not only to seduce him physically, but to corrupt his very being.

"Come!"

He gave in ...