The Rite of Naming

Maia opened the door and gestured for Althea to pass through the threshold; leaving the sanctum of her new boudoir and entering the unknown. The purple-clad blonde stepped into the hallway, immediately recognizing the hewn stone tunnels from before. No doubt about it, she remained within the blasphemous walls of the cult's domain. The door closed and locked behind Maia, and she joined Althea's side. The pale, nearly monochromatic handmaiden offered Althea her arm for support. Again, a moment of reticence and Althea took a step back, feeling the cold stone against her bare heel.

"Lady Althea, I assure you that no harm awaits you at the end of this tunnel," Maia bowed her head respectfully. "On the contrary, your divine son and rapturous pleasure are the only things you will find ahead," Maia took the priestess by the hand and gave it a reaffirming squeeze. This simple act of compassion and the girl's cool touch steadied Althea's heart. Memories of her gushing climaxes returned, bringing with them a flush to her cheeks. Maia smirked, narrowing her smoky eyes playfully. "You see? I only wish you knew just how lucky you are, my lady," she mused and led Althea on her first step forward. "I envy you, you know. I envy how much his grace will fill you," Maia bit her lip and rubbed a hand over her own trim midriff.

"Maia, I..." Althea narrowed her eyes and tugged on the pale girl's hand, halting them both. "How can you accept all of this madness?" the priestess knit her brows and fought back the welling tears of despair. "I am a servant of Helestria, and I will always harbor her light," Althea pulled her hand free and wrapped her arms around her middle, unwittingly sheltering the twin half-demon children/grandchildren that gestated within. To think she was an imminent grandmother... by the doing of her own son. And Althea had not yet seen her twentieth winter.

"Fear not, my lady, for you are cherished. Yours is the womb that bears the fated fruit of pestilence," Maia bowed at the waist again, and again Althea glimpsed her charcoal-gray areola. The handmaid's plump nips tented that thin, black silk of her promiscuous tunic--No! Althea refused to dwell on these lewd imaginings. The gothic handmaiden took the acolyte by the hand and again led her down the stone, windowless dungeon corridor lit only by sparse sconces bearing eldritch green flames. Trapped in this prison of entropic sin.

At last they reached a pair of broad, looming stone doors, large enough for two ogres to pass one another without squeezing or ducking their heads. Etched into the center of each door was the baleful, six-eyed skull of Nihilipox. Each eye was set with a beautifully-faceted emerald. Maia approached and pulled a small loop of leather which was immediately followed by a thunderous gong in an unseen chamber above the doors. At first nothing happened, but then the heavy stone rumbled, and the heavy slabs of stone ponderously swung open.

Althea's human eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim light within. Maia led on without delay, and they arrived at a balcony leading out into a dark expanse beyond. A rope bridge stretched out into the darkness beyond. They paused at the balcony, and the anxious acolyte examined this oddly empty chamber. A waist-high stone wall encircled the balcony, assuring one they would not plummet into the dark below, but as Althea gazed into the murky unknown, she began to see it bubble and churn. A moat? That's when the smell finally reached her nose. It stank of ****. After the suspicious pampering of her new domicile, this was a stark reminder of the cult's corruption. Without a doubt, what churned below was a vast lake of that familiar, black ichor. So much filth and polluted expulsions.

"My lady, he awaits us." Maia gestured toward the rope bridge, but this time she stood behind Althea and urged her forward to lead the way. "Come now, your son yearns for his mother's love and affection," the black-haired girl offered a wide smile, pushing gently at the acolyte's back. And the mother complied, her bare feet struggling to find balance on the rope bridge, but Maia was with her all the way. Halfway across the bridge, and she finally saw the dim light of glowing runes in a vast and complex array. Some kind of altar sat at the center of a hexagonal platform that must have been nearly thirty feet across. Those glowing green runes scrawled across the entire breadth of the platform. Hooded figures encircled the altar at the middle. Althea craned her neck upward, following the thick, dark iron chains that suspended the hovering stone slab from the inscrutable ceiling. By the looks of it, the entire platform hung midair above the ever-churning lake of demonic ichor. The essence of Nihilipox.

When the two girls arrived at the end of the bridge, one of the hooded figures stepped forward. "At last, we feared she would not come," said a familiar, raspy voice. Althea recognized the sagging flesh and potbelly of that accursed fanatic who led the first ritual. It was that woman's fault that Althea met this fate. An anger boiled in the blonde acolyte's blood. "He awaits you, girl," the raspy woman said with a sweep of her arm. Althea's ocean eyes followed her direction before finally beholding the altar at the heart of the platform with clarity. It was much bigger than she imagined from a distance, but now it was clear why. Lying on his back atop the altar was the tall, sinewy, half-rotted form of her son, the Heir of Nihilipox. "At long last, we may now begin the ritual," the woman placed a withered hand upon Althea's shoulder, but the young girl immediately recoiled.

"No! I don't want this. You all disgust me!" she spat and crossed her arms over her chest, shielding her heavy, milk-laden bosom. The priestess stepped back, but was met by the cool, comforting embrace of Maia's slender arms wrapping around her shoulders from behind. Maia pressed those plump black lips against Althea's nape, exhaling a surprisingly chilly breath against the blonde girl's back.

"Be at peace, my lady," the handmaiden whispered softly into Althea's ear, and it worked. The pounding drum in her chest slowed to a steady beat, and her knees felt weak again. When Maia pressed her brisk nips against Althea's back, it stirred up that familiar warmth between her legs. And if the priestess wasn't mistaken, she thought she felt a bit of dampness in her loins.

"As... as you say," Althea said with a soft sigh, her eyes hanging half-lidded in a slight stupor. Again she gazed upon the altar and that glorious creature resting atop it. The Heir of Nihilipox. Her son. Though he lay prone, something stood tall and firm. His black, gangrenous cock reached toward the heavens, like the hardy mast of a proud flagship. In the dim, green torchlight Althea could barely make out the ulcerous lesions and fat blisters ripe for popping deep inside her. Filling his own mother with his vile excretions. "What am I doing?" Althea accidentally spoke aloud.

"You are a mother who has yet to bless her child with a most important gift," Maia began, her hands clasped against one cheek in adoration for the whole moment. Sensing Althea's wariness, Maia gracefully strode toward the altar herself and reached out one pale hand toward the crotch of the demonic prince. Her fingers barely rested upon the veiny, mold-speckled heft of his inhuman testes.

"W-What gift? Please... speak plainly," Althea slurred her words and pressed a palm to her forehead. Her mind was swimming, and she couldn't tell if it was the presence of her demonic son, the seductive aura of her handmaid, or the hormones of her unholy pregnancy. Perhaps all three.

"Why, you must name him, of course." Maia smiled again and gave the thick gonad a tender pat before bringing her fingers beneath her nose. She inhaled deeply and her eyes crossed while the first signs of color reached her cheeks. "Ohh... why couldn't it have been me?" Maia mumbled and immediately shoved the musk-scented fingers toward her crotch, wherein she began fervently masturbating.

"Maia! Compose yourself. At least wait until the ritual has begun, for Nihilipox's sake..." the raspy crone scolded. Althea watched as her embarassed handmaiden picked herself up and straightened her tunic. This elicited a deep chuckle from the prone heir.

"Come... mother," the beast rumbled and reached his arm of tentacles out, slowly stroking the length of his shaft. Althea's jaw went slack when she watched the girthy rod swell up even larger, now the size of a man's arm. She unconsciously pressed a hand to her tummy, remembering the reaming she received from that unholy breeding tool just the night prior.

"Oh--um--yes! This is the Rite of Naming, my lady, and you are to mount your chosen mate; your son," Maia continued with her head bowed toward the mighty demon. She held out a hand to help Althea up onto the altar, as if she were about to mount a horse. No, by the looks of it her son was undoubtedly more endowed than any stallion in the realm. Even if that impressive amount of meat was plagued with pustules and malignant blemishes. "You must oblige, Lady Althea, for this is as fate has decreed. You alone will find our Heir's true name in the throes of sinful passion."