Dark Wine

The Cauldron

The witches were little more than girls really. Just foolish young things, flighty and naively unprepared. Some might even call them empty headed. It was Halloween and they pranced around the cauldron, flinging their schoolclothes away until they were dressed in just their lacey bras and panties. Elizabeth even kissed Nancy, but the girls were too shy to indulge too deeply in the sin of sapphic pleasure.

Kimberly moaned as vapors from the cauldron seeped out into her nostrils, she was naked, her panties abandoned in favor of a sweaty nudity. Her fingers slipped between her legs as she rubbed the naughty treasure between her supple thighs. Murmurs of lust escaped her gently parted lips and she whispered blasphemies of witchcraft to herself, wishing the Black Man would arrive to impregnate her with demon seed. Promising her womb to him.

Sarah stared at Kimberly's shameful display and felt a spreading wetness deep in her young pussy. When Elizabeth's delicate hands slipped under Sarah's blouse and cupped her breasts in a wicked squeeze, the girl was so wrapped up in the heady odors from the Cauldron that she scarcely even noticed until manicured thumbs and forefingers were pinching her nipples and her bra was slipping down. The delightful pain only heightened Sarah's arousal.

Nancy was kissing Sarah... and Kimberly watched. The steaming boil and bubble from the great black pot driving the girls into a decadent frenzy. They were right on the verge of a teenage meltdown, an orgy of licking and sucking and oral raptures. None of them expected to be caught by Miss Coxwell, the school's Head Librarian...

The Summoning

In the ancient days, now obscured by myth and legend, the priestesses of the pleasure cult, the Aischrolatreia, would perform sacred ceremonies designed to evoke their dark mates from the spaces between the worlds. Using the female power bound within their ripe sex, the fertile novices willingly offered their bodies for breeding with alien beasts, calling to their monstrous masters with unspeakably foul lusts. It was a hideous submission, an act of religious fanaticism. Surrounded by chanting acolytes and looming standing stones, their flushed bodies drenched in sweat, thrashing upon the altar beneath the writhing slap of tentacles, the newly initiated females soon felt the result of their indiscriminate spawning grow within their gravid wombs.

In medieval times, desperate to avoid the fires of the inquisition, Oriphia, High Priestess of the pleasure cult, commissioned the mad monk Clitanus to produce illuminated tomes outlining the secret mysteries of the Cult of Pleasure. She paid for this service with her own body, and those of the virgins dedicated to the cult.

Each day, Clitanus would inscribe new pages of blasphemous knowledge, new forms of forbidden pleasure made manifest in the written word. Each night, he would entertain himself with the trained slavegirls provided by Oriphia, even the high priestesses own daughters did not escape the leering lechery of the mad monk. The result of their lush exertions and straining efforts was the Codex Voluptarius, a terrible index of pleasures beyond any feeble human morality.

Oriphia, Clitanus and the Codex disappeared into the churning mists of history. For centuries it seemed that the forbidden essence of the Cult of Pleasure would be forever lost. Until one day, not too long ago, Miss Christine Coxwell, Head Librarian at St. Theresa's School for Wayward Girls reached into the bottom of a locked and musty chest in the school's attic.

They say that the darkest of occult knowledge possesses a will of it's own. In some philosophies, blasphemous ceremony and damned inscriptions can exert a terrible influence on the souls of the sinful, luring the wicked and discontent into journeys of sordid discovery. It was in this way that a lonely lady librarian discovered the catalogue of bestiality that was the Codex Voluptarius.

Christine's bespectacled eyes were alight with wonder as she withdrew the tome from the antique steamer's trunk. Her fingertips glided softly over the intricate whorls and curved designs of the Codex's cover plates. Shivers of pleasure ran up and down her spine as she placed the heavy book on an examination desk.

The lady librarian was tentative as she opened the bindings, like a virgin afraid to experience a brutal first lover. But soon, the dark allure of the latin verses seduced her sensibilities. Almost unbidden, her hand slipped between her thighs and she began to rub her sweet slippery slit as lewd verses escaped her whispering lips. The incantations contained within the Codex were being released by her softly moaning voice.

Christine's finger pressed hard against her secret spot and a whimper of pure need escaped her lips. This was a reading experience unlike any other. The horrible secrets contained within the Codex had unfolded her lusts, turning her into nothing more than a masturbating slut. But she couldn't stop herself. It was a pleasure too intense, every word was an enthralling delight, every new page a fierce new lover to ravish her into submission.

By the end of her reading, she was wailing out the words in the echo-filled basement of the school library. Shouting out the ancient mysteries of the Aischrolatriea in her wild ecstacy. So consumed by her sorcerous orgasm was Christine that she barely noticed when the tentacles emerged from beyond. The alien horrors disgorging themselves into the world like a stallion's phallus emerging from a dripping animal sheath. She screamed as the rough tentacles seized her with a brutal strength, dragging her into a nightmare of oblivion.

The Court of Carcosa

Chapter One: THE BREEDING CHAMBER

Camilla no longer had the will to scream as the thick tuber pushed into her maidenhead. It wriggled up against her cervix and disgorged a steaming load of syrupy goo. She knew that the hot jism was laden with potent alien seed and splashing directly into her womb. The thing rustled in the darkness of the pit as she struggled against her chains, it's massive bulk shuddering in breeding lust.

The wicked horror slowly withdrew it's slimy morass of tendrils, leaving streaks of slime slathered across Camilla's face and body. It burbled insanely, growling in otherworldly satisfaction as the snake-like feelers caressed her body in their wake. The weight and pressure of the impossibly strong tentacles slackened and released the despoiled maiden from their fierce grip. She hung there in the darkness, supported by her shackles as the beast exited the carven stone chamber.

It was happening again... Camilla's belly began to swell with new and hideous life. Her taut skin stretching to accomadate the otherworldly spawn growing inside her. The shreds of her once exquisite finery hanging off her sperm soaked and abused form in tatters and rags. She grit her teeth in shameful passion as the wriggling began in her uterus, her sacred female spaces roiling in discomfort as the spawn surged downward into birthing position.

Camilla grunted, the breeding pleasures were becoming more intense and insane with each new violation of her womb. Her monstrous offspring wiggled it's tendrils out of her body and slapped wetly against her inner thighs. The fluids pouring from her womb filled the air with the heady stench of lust and pheremones.

She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Her thoughts came through a murky soup, the thing inside her pushed it's head and it opened like a blossom of some alien god's plant. She tried to lower herself to squat, but the chains holding her wrists kept her upright. Camilla bent her knees and pushed her back against the wall, lifting her legs and desperately trying to let the shackles support her. She was ready to spawn for the thousandth time.

The helpless maiden scrambled into a now familiar whelping position, the bulbous star-like head of her spawn pushing out of her dripping cunt and oozing out of her inch by inch. As the abomination dropped out of her body and crept into the gutter of slime swirling down the spiral groove carved in the floor, Camilla remembered the words of the Prince...

*******

"You'll make an excellent breeder milady," he said. The smirk on his royal face worried the young noblewoman. It was Camilla's first time at court, and her family was away in the countryside. She looked out at the night city of Carcosa and murmurred to herself.

"Your father was most accomodating when he sold you to me," continued the Prince. His malice could be felt in the air. Camilla shivered in frightened anticipation. The armored female guards stood at the ready. Their firm muscular bodies could easily overpower her if she escaped the Prince's vise-like grip on her wrists. She studied the dangerous Valkeries with a wistful glance.
The redheaded warrior women seized the girl. Her voiceless protests amusing the Prince and his court. The guards rudely dragged off her frilly undergarments and cast them to the throng of nobles jeering at her as she was led away. Camilla flushed, humiliated as she was taken into captivity.

The priestess of the Prince's own created religion walked up to the young woman and put her hand to the woman's stomach.

"She will bear us many children, most males... and a few brood mares...she is fertile... VERY fertile," spoke the strange oracle...

*******

Back in the chamber, Camilla writhed in her chains. Her body slickened with sweat and alien juices. The chamber of black stone was wet with heated humid air. The entire underbelly of the Imperial Palace seemed to breathe with a heavy passion.

Suddenly, a huge trunk, like a giant tree come to life, smashed through the iron grating that served as the chamber's roof. The twisted metal clattered to the ground with an enormous clang. The large undulating tendril smashed into the floor and split the stone with the force of it's terrific impact.

The 'foot' of the blackened thing split wide open and out poured a wriggling tidal wave of multicolored tendrils. The massive trunk was only the merest portion of some impossibly vast beast. Camilla screamed as the tentacles invaded her spent body, the breath of the palace burning through as the gigantic mass pulsated in the chamber, filling the small room with it's ponderous mass.

Once more the young woman was being raped by some unspeakable demonic entity. Once more she found her carefully structured morals crumbling before the indescribable pleasure of forcible mating. Her repeated ravishment in the pits had turned her into a mindless slut who's only thought was to produce more fertile spawn. Camilla groaned in delight as the thing filled her mouth and cunt and ass to the brim with it's otherworldly spunk.

The tendrils washed over Camilla like a tide of flesh. Globs of potent goo erupted in massive squirts across her body. The thing's enormous stalk twisted and writhed as it splashed the chamber, flooding it with it's unholy filth. Camilla felt her sticky toes in a puddle of it's awful gushings. The sperm was rising to her ankles. More leaked out of her distended belly. A horrid tubular stalk of flesh pumping it's foul semen into her belly before erupting from her stretched sucking lips to splash her body with it's demon seed. As it defiled her with it's uncleaness, she belched and brought up more jism from her stomach.

The thick sperm spilled out of her mouth and rolled across her pendulous breasts. Her udders were just now beginning to leak, swollen with milk. They were small and firm as apples once, but now Camilla felt them hang from her small frame, huge and bloated, like overripe pumpkins. Her milksacs were forced into overwhelming production by the insane pace of her breedings. Her ripe nipples squirted milk upon the floor as Camilla hung in her chains, and wept.
Days went by and turned into months. Camilla was visited by every conceivable horror and mated with each one in turn. Sometimes, she mated with several of the things at once, and some occasions she endured as many abominations as could cram themselves into her breeding pit, her prison cell. She lost all sense of herself and time. She became a creature like the things which constantly assaulted her vagina. Camilla existed purely for the pleasures of alien rape and insemination.

She scarcely noticed when the female guards tilted the Urn of Corruption into her chamber. The wicked vixens licked their lips and the filth poured into her cell from above. More worms, grubs, larvae, serpents, and other nameless vermin than could ever fit within the dimensions of the large Urn rapidly filled the chamber. Camilla was buried alive in a morass of unspeakable horror. At the edge of her pit, behind the guards, the Prince shook hands with Camilla's father. Camilla's young sister looked on eagerly at her sibling's fate.

"Mommy? When will I be sold to the prince?" she asked. Camilla's mother only looked downcast at the pit, her eyes staring in fear... and lust.

*******

Chapter Two: The Queen's Shame

The Queen struggled on her throne, pulling on the shackles and chains that bound her royal wrists and ankles. Shameful memories washed over her naked skin with a hot flush of forbidden lust. Her own son, the Prince... How could he do this to her? Cassilda's motherly nipples stiffened with unwanted aches as she remembered his lewd and vicious rape of her. How he had taunted her with his firm young body, running his hands over her belly, telling her again and again how he would make her pregnant with an incestuous child.

He had held her down before the eyes of startled servants and the palace's muscular female guards. In but a moment of ripping he had her dress and gowns off. Then he was thrusting his manhood into his mother's sopping wet cunt. Forcing her to confront his vigorous passion born of cruel desire for sheer wanton depravity. A son was raping his mother. A young male was dominating a seducing, teasing older maid at last.

Cassilda wept, sobbing in agonized ecstasy as her son filled her body's secret places and whispered blasphemy in her ear. She would be his mother-concubine, a royal incestuous breeding whore. The Queen turned her head in shame, her loins gushing with a betrayal of sick perversion. To eagerly buck her hips and lock her ankles around her son's flexing buttocks? This was not the way of nobility, to wrap her supple shapely legs around her son's firm body in a tryst of incest.

Cassilda did not raise her family for this. Why couldn't she control her insane arousal? The question burned into her mind as her son took her with ever-increasing roughness, his brutality becoming evident as his own pleasure mounted. She had whelped a beast, and now that beast was grinding his pelvis into her clitoris. The wildness of her son's fucking filling her royal bedchamber with wet squelching sounds. Their lewd mating, his uncontrollable urges, it had all combined to make the Queen's cunt pour out a sweet gush of nectar around her son's undeniably insatiable cock.

The Queen remembered how Vanda and Lily, her attendants and guards, stood watching the royal rape. They stood firm, pussies exposed in finely crafted ceremonial armor, cunts dripping with delight as they witnessed their young prince defiling his mother. Their strong slender hands gripped the elaborately carved and decorated Carcosan spears, stroking the shafts lovingly as they secretly applauded the degenerate crime of incest being committed before their hungry eyes.

Cassilda knew her secret shame, incest... it had come back to haunt her in the depraved lustings of her son. Carcosa was rife with it, families fucking each other in forbidden lust, flouting the prohibition on fathers to engage in breeding rites with their daughters. Many noblemen subscribed to the old ways, where a father owned his female children as slaves and they used them, taking their virginities and making them breed true for their noble line.

Some families had a long tradition of brothers marrying sisters, mothers teaching their eager young sons. But Cassilda wanted to put an end to it all. Especially since she had resisted her own brother's sick advances towards her those long years ago. But now, her son had conquered her, overturned her throne and made her a slave to his rampaging incestuous manhood. The twin black moons of female power were being supplanted by the gray skies and black stars of maleness.

Cassilda knew her temptation was at fault. It was her hidden desire in her most private fantasies for her brother to ravish her and claim his crown, but it was not to be. And now her son was taking his place with an unbelievably vigorous lovemaking. The Queen was being ravished and enraptured by his groping squeezing hands, his wandering lips, sharp teeth brushing against her flesh in a mad dance of sensation. Her own son, whom she loved more than anything in all the world, had come home to her womb at last.

As the Queen lay on her throne, shackled, enslaved, raped, her cunt dripped with the fresh family seed her son had deposited deep into her womb. Cassilda could not believe the force with which he had delivered it unto her. He was more than a beast, her son was a demon, an unholy cocksman of prodigious strength in fucking. It was like a raging river had been unleashed inside her from his plunging phallus. As it hit her quivering interior, her son's decadent incestuous eruption had driven her entire body into a frenzied orgasm. A palsy of rapture washed though her soul, leaving her filled with new life, royal life... an incestuous child born of the worst sort of depravity and sexual perversion.

THE END

The Throne of Decadence

She Awaits her Fate in the Pit.

She approaches what she has always wanted, but has never known.