Upon My Altar

A Little Horror

By Whippoorwill


There are no chains nor stays nor shackles upon my wicked altar, for pure corporeal domination is my delight, and the greatest pleasure of my dark queen. The supplicant most nubile, her rose ready and ripe for the plucking is held in restraint by my disciples alone, and by no artifice of iron or leather.

Two restrain the wriggling of her legs and feet, two more the writhing and bucking of her thighs and body. Two more curtail the free movement of her arms while one last restrains her at the wrists.

Fourteen hands in all restrict the freedom of her motion, their wicked tormenting claws, teasing lips and harrying teeth, provoking the willing supplicant to full arousal. Indeed, the scent of her copious lust is most apparent, its scent lingering delicious and heavy in the air.

For she has known the savage love of our dark queen as witness only, and she does burn most wantonly to know that pleasure for herself.

The flickering of candles multitudinous cast their fiery light upon her form, rendering her perspiring and excited body in the very hue of damnations flames. And as the ebb and flow of her carnal desires break upon the shores of her lust, I carry the sacramental cup with reverence to her lips.

The sacred libation I hold to her greedy mouth, and pour but a little of the unholy cordial. And not a single drop is wasted as her salacious tongue draws the fluid to her throat, lapping and licking at the narcotic aphrodisiac most wilfully.

Next I taste of the sacrament myself and begin the song of invocation. And before even the first verse is complete, I feel the philtre filling my veins and arteries with lust as urgent as the flames of the eternal pit.

And as I sing the second verse and then the final third, my libido burns urgently with carnal desire. I feel the dark queen rouse herself from her slumber, her passions piqued delightfully at the drama we her servants enact. And so wanton has my lust become, that the lips and throat of my sex fairly ache and sting with want. And my lips are now so slick and wet with demand, that I fairly drip with lubricious starvation.

And with the incantation sung and the host burning as a wild conflagration throughout my entire being, I take up the sacred phallus and feel the eyes of my dark queen observe my actions with delight.

One end of the sacrilegious phallus I nudge within the lips of my own starving cunt, the spines and spurs which protrude from near its centre, tickling both my engorged clit and puckered rump hole. And I hear my groaning moaning utterances of bliss, as though they escape the lips of another, so lost in the paradise garden of unholy lust am I.

By titanic effort of devotion and will I master my composure, though I be near delirious with stimulation. And so I crawl atop the altar and mount the frantic supplicant, as she cries and pleads for satisfaction.

And her cries become as animal howls as the free end of the dual phallus, I thrust slowly and luxuriously betwixt the lips of her cunt. Slowly and achingly I work the device deeper and deep within the pleading supplicant.

And the spines and spurs which delight my various parts, besides my lovers’ mouth, torment and tease the clit and anus of the supplicant, as at last I thrust the full length deeper and deep within her.

And the agony of pleasure unholy, bright as the burning of damnation fills my body as the dark queen enters my physical being. I am still present and aware of all that transpires, but it is she who possesses my body now, and compels me to fuck the supplicant with unrelenting blissful savagery.

And both the supplicant and I burn in the cruel and delightful flames of Hel’s lust. And the excruciating blissful torment that our dark mistress bestows upon us, drives us both to the very limits of mortal endurance. And we both become lost to insanity as sweet and savage Hel brings us, all three to blessed and wicked release.

And with her greed at last slaked, after uncounted hours of blissful agony, the supplicant and I are carried away. Unconscious and helpless we are ministered too, as we recover from the dark queen’s love.

And when at last nine months have gone and passed, we both give birth. And two new little daemons are born unto this mortal world, and dear sweet savage Hel blesses us with two new daughters to the coven.

And thus the sacred number is achieved, three and three and three are we, with one to guide and lead. Nine in total to enact her unholy and apocalyptic scheme, nine to be as her unholy witnesses and disciples.

And when the stars are in the correct alignment, I will be as her dread messiah and the tenth will be the one. And thus plunge the mortal world into the ceaseless flames of eternal agony and lustful and eternal damnation.



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And if you made it this far, please don’t forget to click like if you like, click follow if you really like and thanks for being part of my fiendish adventures.

❤ Whippoorwill

10 thoughts on “Upon My Altar

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      1. Awww… not at all. You know… you should sell this stuff in installments on Amazon. It would do well. Need to bring these tales to life with voice readings. That… that would be something!

        Can I ask your age?


      2. Old enough to know better than to write smutty vignettes, but still young enough not to care. ❤ And I've been considering recording for some time. I just need to find the right voice. I can't do it myself because I have a broad Australian accent, nasal and unpleasant, and rather like the sound produced by kangaroos mating.


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