Mistress of the Mortal Realm, Book One

Chapter One-4

Lucy drew a deep breath. She knew that she would not turn back from her resolution. Too much time and effort had been expended in getting this far. She was committed all the way. Poor Penelope was just part of the price she had to pay.

She took the pair of shiny steel scissors from the basket and immediately began to lop off sheaths of Penny’s beautiful, straw blond hair. She would keep it as it would become a valuable talisman once the girl had been sacrificed. She worked the scissors all around her head until there was only a slight stubble left. Taking hold of a small shaving brush she had purchased for this purpose, she dipped it into the bowl of hot water. She had prepared a coffee cup with a small piece of soap at the bottom and she swirled the brush around inside it until she had worked up a decent lather. After spreading a thin sheen of it over the girl’s head, she proceeded to shave it off with a safety razor, making sure she did not cut her, carefully whispering the incantations the book had taught her.

When all traces of hair had been removed, she moved to the girl’s loins. She snipped away as much of her pubic hair as she could with the scissors and then shaved the rest off with the razor. She looked down at the girl’s s*x. Her hairless p***y made the girl seem somehow even younger and more innocent. She rubbed her hand along the now smooth and bare pudenda and a shiver of lust went through her.

Mesmerized, she glided her thumb along the neat, labial divide up and down several times, teasing the nubbin at the top until the gap began to glisten with the girl’s unconscious lubrication. The girl moaned slightly and her knees made as if she was trying to bring them together in protest.

Lucy put the shaving utensils away quickly and took out the black grease pencil. From her pocket she pulled out the drawings she had made of the rune-like figures demanded by the ceremony that she had copied dutifully from the grimoire. She drew them on her forehead, her chest, her belly and on the insides of her thighs, murmuring the incantations she had learned by rote. She used the pencil to blacken her labial lips and to outline her n*****s, mouth and eyes.

There was one thing left. She had stolen blessed candles from a local church, melted them down until they were softened and malleable and reformed the resultant ball of wax into a model of a long, thick, uncircumcised phallus. She greased the faux c**k with the fat of a sacrificed piglet and then insinuated herself between the girl’s widespread thighs. Slipping one hand under the small of her back, she lifted her torso until her rear entrance was exposed. She pointed the tip of the cone shaped implement at the dainty aperture and began to press on it, harder and harder until it breached the tight entrance. Once breached, the wax phallus slipped right in. There was an indentation around the end to allow the ring of flesh to close upon it, making it virtually impossible for the girl to expel it.

The unholy object was inserted just in time. Penny was beginning to struggle to consciousness. Once fully conscious, the girl would certainly beg and plead, issue forth desperate entreaties for Lucy to untie her. She would be mystified as to Lucy’s purposes at first. Then, it would slowly dawn on her that she was to be a participant in some strange ritual. She would struggle frantically at the ropes binding her, cry and whine, perhaps even try to bargain for her freedom. It would all be in vain, of course, and decidedly tiresome.

So, although the ritual called for her mouth to be free, in the meantime, Lucy had made provision to avoid the inevitable scene. Before the girl was fully awake, Lucy slipped into her mouth a thick gag and clasped it tightly behind her head. She had a black sateen bag with a drawstring around its opening and just as Penny’s eyes spread widely in astonishment and the beginnings of terror, she draped the bag over her head and drew the opening closed.

Penny released a piteous, muffled wail. She pulled and tugged at her bindings. Lucy could see the bag inflate and deflate rapidly as her lungs exhaled and inhaled frantically. Her ankles jerked mightily at their bindings. Her back arched, her chest rose and fell in desperate breath. Her breasts, the delectable things, swayed and jerked as she attempted to free herself. But Lucy had done her job well. She was bound tightly and securely to the rings. There would be no escape.

“Mmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmm!” Penny exclaimed in ever more desperate and loud protestations. Her head jerked right and left, up and down to the extent permitted by her neck’s bindings. Her hands, locked so irremediably above her, yanked and pulled at the ropes around her graceful wrists, closing into little, frantic fists and then opening again and again.

Lucy could not help but feel a twinge of pity for the unfortunate girl. Her inclination was to approach her, whisper comforting things in her ears in an attempt to calm her. But what would she say? What lies could she tell her that would convince her that being gagged and hooded, bound to rings on the rough cement floor of her basement was nothing to be concerned with? Should she tell her that she was sorry that it had to be her, let her know that her suffering would not last long, not to mind the long, thick object that had been inserted into her rectum? Maybe tell her what a pleasure it had been to f**k her and thank her for her dutiful, passionate, oral blessings to her p***y?

No, it was better to be silent. There was nothing she could say that would make it any easier for the poor girl. The only thing she could do was to be sure she got the ritual right so that her sacrifice would not be in vain.

Lucy drew up all the implements she had used to prepare her gift to the Master and, carrying Penny’s clothing, hurried up the stairs. She picked up the sandal that had slipped from the girl’s foot and put all of her habiliments into a black trash bag. She would dispose of it later by dropping it into a dumpster somewhere far away from her house.

That accomplished, Lucy went upstairs to her sumptuous master bedroom. Stripping off her clothes, she stepped into the shower. The ritual called for her to be free of soil or stain and she scrubbed herself thoroughly and washed and rinsed her long, black hair several times. Once done, she dried her hair and brushed it until it was free of knots and shiny as black marble. On her bed she had already laid out the ceremonial robe that she had hand stitched together as per the grimoire’s protocol. It was pure white and made from virgin wool. On it was drawn the various totems of power called for. It had a bright red, silk collar with matching cuffs that covered her arms down to her wrists and a black inverted cross on front and back. She slid her feet into the leather soled, black cloth slippers which had death’s heads stitched in white on the tops and then stepped over to her full length mirror.

A shiver went through her as she thought of the ceremony to come. Downstairs, Penny was undoubtedly moaning and flailing her hands and feet, desperate to free herself. She looked at her wristwatch. It was 11:25. The ritual would begin in 20 minutes, a quarter of an hour before midnight. She had some time to kill.

It wouldn’t hurt to have a small snack beforehand to keep up her strength and then she could go over the ritual one more time to make sure she did not stumble on any of the words, a happenstance that could prove fatal. Looking into her own dark eyes in the mirror she took a deep breath. Within the hour her fate would be known. It would be either a one way trip to hell or an accession to unbelievable power.

She noticed that she still was adorned with her golden earrings, a gift from Penny, and she quickly took them off, grateful that she had remembered at the last minute. Any adornments other than that called for by the ritual could bring disaster. She would take off the watch and cast it aside before she started.

As she deposited her earrings on her dresser, she espied a shiny gold coin. She had almost forgotten it. She picked it up. It glittered prettily. Mesmerized by its beauty for a moment, she thought back to the last time she had had such an object in her hand.