Supernatural:

The Witches Sabbat

Prologue

Night descended swiftly, casting a tainted gloom across the region, as a grotesque blood moon climbed to its zenith in the raven black sky.

No stars could be seen in this endless void of dark, for stars are the harbingers of light and purity and goodness and faith.

Such things were forgotten here.

A fine mist settled in around the trees, wrapping tendrils about their gnarled limbs and hollow trunks.

Suddenly, the leaf litter rustled and a misshapen head popped from the ground.

Bulbous red eyes quickly scanned the area, flicking cautiously in each direction; to be sure that it was alone and when its gaze met naught, it wriggled about and was soon free of the earth.

Coughing and spluttering, the odd looking creature stood on slithering, snake-like feet and once more scrutinized the surroundings.

Tilting its head to each side and bashing its skull methodically, the creature was surprised to see the sediment build up that poured copiously from its ears.

A voice whispered across the wind, and he knew he was needed immediately.

"Abraxas…" the wind sighed and the carrier demon set forth, his serpentine feet flicking their tongues to smell for danger.

As the breeze died, his master's voice stopped and all that could be heard was the incessant screeching of vampiric bats perched high in the gnarled trees, occasionally taking flight to claim the unsuspecting prey that would satiate their thirst for sweet, fresh blood.

Abraxas licked his lips at the smell of blood…he had not eaten in what seemed like eternity.

But that could wait.

He had more pressing matters to attend to at the present, and he did not particularly relish the thought of being beaten if he should turn up too late.

The moon was already at its optimum summit.

He would have to hurry if he wanted to keep his title.

The slithering feet picked up their pace, now abandoning their jobs of watching ahead, anxious too, of their fate, if they shouldn't arrive on time.

Abraxas strained his angular ears for any sign of the congregation, but there was still no sign of them.

A shrill whistle sounded from the distance, and it came so suddenly, that it pierced the demons sensitive eardrums painfully.

The demon hissed and shoved a gangly finger in each ear, as though it would stave off the piercing noise.

This was a sure sign that his master was becoming very aggravated indeed.

Abraxas swore his slippery demon tongue off and spread his stumpy wings.

Screw walking, He thought vehemently, as the thought of his imminent and bloody death crossed his uncomplicated mind.

He flitted heavily through the dangling branches, greatly relieved to hear the sounds of crackling fire and evil merriment.

At least now he would make it in the nick of time.

"There you are Demon, what kept you?" Asked the cool, light voice of his master, who was shrouded in shadow.

Abraxas bowed, but growled inwardly at the degrading term.

"My deepest apologies, Mistress. I had to be sure that I wasn't followed," he replied.

"Very well…at least you aren't too late, we have just begun the feast. Come Abraxas, join us,"

The naked woman stepped into the clearing, her curvy body glowing seductive oranges from the light cast by the fire.

Her long, black, lustrous hair, tumbled down her back as she circled the oak table by the fire, and sat back at her place between too handsome warlocks.

"What kept your ogre?" One of the witches asked bluntly.

Abraxis bared his teeth.

"Your mom," he snarled, giving her the finger.

"Abraxas, behave!" His master snapped, taking a sip of wine from her chalice.

At the head of the table, the chief warlock stood, big, in more ways than one.

His russet hair hung to his shoulders, dead straight and dark brown eyes peered at the delegation.

"My friends!" he cried, his rich tones bouncing around the trees. "It is almost time!"

He waved a hand and the table disappeared, replaced by a stone slab, tied to which, was a young woman, beautiful in her nudity, her fearful eyes pleading.

The head warlock motioned for the females to make a circle around him and all was silent for several moments as he scanned the ring of women.

"Lydia Hemlock," he said finally, his deep, passionate eyes landing on Abraxas' master.

She took a step forward and held her head high as he approached.

"Lydia Hemlock," he repeated. "I will take you this night?"

Lydia looked into his eyes with her own bright green ones.

"Bartimae Drake, I accept," the witch said huskily.

The circle of women backed away to make room for the men. Hands rejoined and they began to chant a haunting tune as they danced around the flames, their smoky fingers caressing the curves of the bloated moon.

Lydia stepped into Bartimae's arms and caught his lips with her own.

Tongues flicked, fighting for dominance as the two adults dropped to the earth.

Bartimae pulled away from her lips and bit at her throat, eliciting a low moan of excitement from the witch.

She was most definitely ready.

He gripped her waist, pushed her knees up and apart so that she was open to him.

Bartimae's heart raced in anticipation as he caressed her gently, allowing her gasps to fill him up.

Kneeling between her legs, he guided his length into her, gripping her hips for better maneuverability as he slid all the way into her.

Her back arched as he drew out slowly and then slipped back in.

This repeated several times at a torturous pace that was sending Lydia wild.

She wanted him fast and hard.

She wrapped her toned legs around the small of his back and thrust herself onto him.

"Please…" She moaned.

Bartimae nodded and quickened his pace, one hand on Lydia's hip, the other gently massaging her breast as he pounded her time and time again.

"Oooooooohhhhh…" Lydia moaned gutturally.

She was almost there.

Bartimae lifted her backside off the ground and held her back as he stroked her fiercely with his hardness.

Lydia's stomach dropped and an intense tingle made its way up from her toes.

He was using magic to enhance the experience.

An orgasm burst deep inside of her and she let out a strangled cry, arching her back as he came inside of her.

Panting, Bartimae pulled out of her and stood, offering a hand to help her up.

"It is time," he said, glancing at the moon.

Lydia nodded and stepped toward Abraxas, who held out a black satin cushion.

Nestled in the luxurious folds was an intricately designed Athame, the blade, with its etchings of dragons and scorpions, glinted wickedly in the firelight.

Lydia grasped the hilt and examined it, hungrily appreciative.

As she approached the young woman on the stone, she smiled.

Young and innocent…just the way he liked them.

The woman sobbed.

"P-p-please…" she gasped.

Lydia swung a leg over her and straddled her waist.

"You are beautiful…and fresh," Lydia whispered, stroking the woman's abdomen and breasts.

"So untainted…innocent…pure. You will please him."

"W-w-what are you g-g-gonna do to m-m-me?" she stammered fearfully.

"Lori…dear Lori. If you are still and calm, it will only hurt a moment…"

The woman she called Lori let out a choking sob.

Lydia ran gentle fingers down her tear-strained face.

"Shhhh my dear child…fear not…"

Lydia cupped Lori's cheek and kissed her trembling lips gently, whilst allowing her fingers to wander below belt.

Another sob, and more tears escaped.

Lydia sat up again and shook her head.

"Dear, dear…I was hoping to have a little fun before we continue…but you wish for it to be over? Very well…"

Lydia raised the Athame to the crimson moon and closed her eyes.

"Ashes to ashes…dust to dust…blood to blood…bone on bone…the blood of the innocent shall be spilt forever on this stone!" she cried, plunging the Athame into the Lori's abdomen.

The woman's desperate screams turned to a gurgle, as blood spilt from her mouth and trickled slowly down her chin.

Lydia kissed her forehead and closed her glassy eyes.

"You have done well child…rest in peace…"

Lydia stood and raised the weapon above her head.

"THE DEED HAS BEEN DONE!" She roared to the cheering minions, who had began to dance once more around the flames. "In seven days, it will be done once more! More purity to sacrifice!"

Another cry of approval came from the dancing mob.

Bartimae had joined in but Lydia stepped into the trees.

"Abraxas…come here,"

The Demon stepped forward tentatively. "Yes, mi lady?" he squeaked.

"You almost didn't make it tonight Ab…and you offended Lady Sheldrake…"

Abraxas bowed his head.

"Yes, I know…and I am deeply sorry…it won't happen again," he promised, relieved that he wasn't punished further.

Lydia crouched down and looked into his scarlet eyes.

"Be sure it doesn't carrier…if you are late next week, or if your foul demon tongue slips anymore insults, I will cut it off and strangle you with it…do I make myself clear?" she said, deathly calm.

Abraxas swallowed hard.

"Inescapably, Lady Hemlock…you have my word…"

"Good…go home and get some rest," she smiled, and with a click of her fingers, disappeared.

The demon let out a calming sigh.

He really deserved more than a threat.

Below him the ground opened up, and he smiled.

"Ahh, the fires of home…" he muttered to himself, peering down into the bowels of the underworld. "Awesome,"

He jumped into the hole and the ground closed behind him, leaving no evidence that they had been there at all…except for the woman, lying dead on the stone slab, her pale skin crimson as the blood moon finally set…


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