Harvest Of The Virgin Sacrifice, Filled With Hot Seed by Gracie Lacewood

Chapter One
    The Caves of Ladlaine
    A thick smoke fills the air, choking my eyes
and lungs. It’s coming from the burning herbs inside the thurible
that the priestess in front of me swings from a long gold chain. My
Priestesses chant their sacred hymns as they guide me down to the
caves of the goddess Ladlaine. My mistress told me that very few
ever get to see these caves and I am lucky to have the honor. I
suppose I feel a bit lucky, mostly I feel nervous, nervous and
excited because tomorrow will be my last day in this earthly
realm.
    I have never touched a man before, and no man
has ever seen me, but every day I see the potentate and his vassals
pass beneath the windows of my chambers, where I live secluded from
the world under the mistress’ stern eye. The potentate has a finely
made and handsome face, his eyes are an unearthly shade of green
and they mesmerize me. His hair is golden and it falls, unruly,
into his strong tanned face. His body is lean and muscular. Though
a fear of the day that I will be given to him builds in me by the
day, there is also a secret excitement beneath my fear.
    At night I draw the gauzy draperies around my
bed so that the priestesses cannot see me and I imagine the hands
of the men I have seen through the window, as they take me. I
imagine their cocks hardening beneath my lips as I pleasure them
with my tongue and mouth. I reach down underneath my linen shift
and rub the swelling place between my legs. In my mind the men lay
me on a bed of red silk and hold me there. The potentate approaches
me, naked, his thick red cock thrust out before him. I am getting
wet and I begin to grind my hips against my stroking hands. In my
minds eye I see the potentate position himself between my legs and
as I imagine him entering me I slip a finger inside myself and try
to stifle my moans of pleasure. My body bucks harder against my
fingers in the intense thralls of pleasure as I picture him
thrusting deeper and deeper into me until, I stop. I stop because I
must not have the exquisite agony of a true orgasm until the
potentate gives it to me on the day of my harvesting.
    Lately I have been allowed to practice with
the priestesses in order to prepare myself and my body for the
girth of the potentate, but they only tease me with their tongues.
They always withdraw as soon as they see that I am close. So,
though I fear the harvest day and know that it will be my last day
in this mortal life, still the very thought of it arouses me. We
continue on deeper and deeper into the caves of Ladlaine. I am here
to cleanse myself one final time before tomorrow. The path is
narrow and dark. The only light comes from the glowing embers of
the burning herbs in the thurible. Eventually we come to an ancient
wooden door hewn into the stone. I am the last to enter though the
door and as I do my breath catches in my throat.
    I am standing in a great circular room. In
width it might be forty feet, but the walls of the room loom up so
far into the depths of the earth above us that I almost cannot see
their end. Great gleaming brass braziers float high above us in a
circle, alight with greenish flames. Before us are stone steps
leading down into a dark pool. On the other end of the room a
massive statue of the Goddess Ladlaine stands above the whole
scene, one gargantuan scaled foot resting on a jagged piece of
broken glass.
    The Goddess Ladlaine is covered head to toe
in scales stronger and sharper than any earthly metal, so whenever
she is depicted she always shows us her strength by squeezing a
metal blade or standing on the edge of a razor. In this case she
holds a broadsword with no pommel or hilt. It juts out above the
black water, its tip dangling just feet from the surface.
    Her eyes appear featureless, they are filled
with what must be thousands of emeralds, glinting in the light of
the green flames. It appears almost as if she were a spider gazing
down at us with her multitude of sparkling eyes. The long tresses
of her