She was naked and strapped to the slab, limbs spread wide, throat trembling against the leather cinch around her neck. The chains were embedded in the altar stone, stained from years of sacrifice. Her skin glistened in the heat—sweat, fear, and the fluids of the last Offering.
The cult stood in a circle, robes clinging to their wet flesh. Beneath the stitched hoods, their mouths hung open. Breathing heavy. Hands already moving under the fabric.
The high priest stepped forward. His cock was already hard, veined like rope, crusted with dried blood. He didn’t speak. He just placed one hand on her belly, leaned down, and spit in her face. Then he shoved two fingers into her mouth and forced her jaw open.
She gagged.
He laughed, pulled the fingers free, and slid them straight into her cunt. No foreplay. Just a knuckle deep plunge that made her back arch. Then another. Then his whole hand.
She screamed, but the circle only grew louder—moaning, grunting, hissing her name like a spell.
The priest worked her like a puppet, wrist twisting, pushing deeper until the slick suck of her insides echoed off the walls. He pulled out and let the glistening mess run down his arm, then smeared it across her thighs.
“Purified,” he whispered. “Split and blessed.”
He mounted her next. The first thrust tore something inside her. There was blood. So much blood. It slicked her hips and dripped down the sides of the slab.
He fucked her hard. Brutal. Full weight slamming down over and over while she cried out in pain, jaw clenched, tears streaking her temples.
Two others joined.
One grabbed her face and forced his cock between her lips, tearing the corners of her mouth open as he rammed his way in. Blood ran down his shaft. He groaned and held her nose until she choked.
The other climbed up behind the priest and began fucking the girl’s ass, shoving in with no preparation, just spit and blood. Her whole body seized under them, and they loved it.
The girl became a hole, a conduit, a living sacrifice turned into a wet meat altar. Cocks pounded every orifice. Hands squeezed her tits, pinched, bit, bruised. One of them sliced a nipple off and ate it raw.
And she didn’t die.
The Pit kept her alive.
The thing in the dark had tasted her now, and it would not let her go.
“More,” it said. The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. A sound like insects crawling over a corpse.
The priest pulled out, grabbed a jagged bone from the altar, and pushed it inside her in his place. It scraped and tore as he forced it in, sharp edges shredding tissue.
The others cheered.
They surrounded the slab and took turns. Ten, fifteen, twenty men and women. Some used knives. Others fucked her with their fists, their boots, their mouths soaked in filth and blood. Her abdomen ballooned with ruptured organs. Still alive.
Her eyes rolled. She screamed again.
The Pit began to pulse.
She spasmed violently. Her belly split open from the inside, wet and glistening. From the ruined cavity, tendrils slithered out, black and twitching. They wrapped around the nearest cultist and dragged her into the girl’s body, headfirst.
The others didn’t stop.
They fucked the corpse while it screamed.
They jacked off over her open belly, letting semen mix with blood and bile.
One cultist cut his own cock off and shoved it into her mouth. She bit it in half with a crunch and laughed with torn lips.
The final thrust came from the thing itself.
It emerged from the Pit, a towering monstrosity of sinew and eyes and bone. Its phallus was a mass of hooks and flesh tongues, twitching with hunger. It mounted what remained of the girl and impaled her on it slowly, sliding inside until ribs cracked and burst open.
The creature roared.
The altar collapsed.
The cult fell to their knees, jerking and screaming as they came in unison, spraying across the stone as the girl was pulled into the Pit.
Gone.
Silence.
Then the floor split, and the walls bled.
And from the dark below, something smiled.