Alex pushed open the creaking door of the abandoned church, the wood splintered under his fingers. Rain had driven him here, off the empty road late at night. The air inside hung heavy, thick with incense and something sweeter, like overripe fruit. Candles flickered in the dim nave, casting long shadows across the stone floor. He froze. Women-five of them-stood in a loose circle near the altar, their white robes whispering as they moved. No one spoke. Their eyes turned to him, dark and unblinking.
One stepped forward, her robe slipping slightly to reveal pale skin. "You've come," she said, voice low, almost a purr. Her name was Kira, he learned later, but in that moment, she was just the first pull. She took his hand, cool fingers tracing his palm. The others closed in, their breaths syncing like a hidden rhythm. This was their ritual, they murmured-ancient, binding, meant for the worthy. Alex's pulse hammered. He should run, but their touches anchored him.
Kira's lips brushed his ear. "Stay. Let us show you." Her hand slid down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness. The fabric parted, cool air hitting his skin. Another woman-Fiona, with fiery red hair escaping her hood-pressed against his side, her breasts soft through the thin robe. She nipped his shoulder, teeth grazing just enough to sting. "Feel it," she whispered. "The power building."
They guided him to the altar, a slab of cold marble that warmed under their shared heat. Alex's jeans tightened as hands roamed-exploring, claiming. Kira knelt first, her fingers working his belt free. The zipper rasped in the silence. She looked up, eyes gleaming. "We invoke the old ways. You give, we take." Her mouth closed over him, hot and wet, tongue swirling with a hunger that made his knees buckle. He gripped the altar's edge, breath ragged.
Fiona laughed softly, shedding her robe. Her body was curves and shadows, nipples hardening in the candlelight. She climbed onto the altar beside him, straddling his thigh. "Watch her," she said, grinding down, her wetness slick against his skin. Alex's hand found her hip, pulling her closer. The friction built, her moans mixing with the wet sounds from below. Another woman-Becca, petite and fierce-joined, her lips on his neck, sucking marks that would bruise by morning.
The ritual pulsed. They chanted now, words in a forgotten tongue that vibrated through him. Hands everywhere-stroking, pinching, spreading him open. Kira rose, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Your turn to worship." She pushed him back, robes pooling around her feet. Her pussy was shaved smooth, glistening. She lowered herself onto his face, thighs clamping his head. The taste of her flooded him-salty, musky, alive. He licked deep, tongue delving into her folds, circling her clit until she shuddered.
Becca straddled his hips, guiding his cock inside her. Tight, hot, she sank down inch by inch. "Fuck, yes," she gasped, nails digging into his chest. Her rhythm was relentless, hips rolling in time with the chants. Fiona leaned in, kissing Becca fiercely, their tongues tangling while Alex thrust up, buried deep. The church echoed with slaps of skin, wet and raw.
A fourth woman-Vera-watched from the shadows, her robe open, fingers working between her legs. She was taller, ethereal, skin like moonlight. Non-human? No, but something otherworldly in her grace, eyes too deep. She approached, voice a silken thread. "Share him." She positioned herself behind Becca, hands on her breasts, pinching until Becca cried out. Then Vera's fingers joined where Alex and Becca connected, rubbing his balls, teasing the base of his shaft.
The fifth-Maris-hovered near his head, now free as Kira shifted. Maris had wild curls and a wicked smile. She fed him her breast, nipple hard against his lips. "Suck," she commanded. He did, drawing it in, teeth grazing. Her free hand stroked his hair, guiding him. The air thickened with their scents-sweat, arousal, the faint metallic tang of the ritual's edge.
Tension coiled in Alex's gut. Horror flickered-were they real? The candles seemed to burn brighter, shadows twisting like living things. But pleasure drowned it. Kira now rode his hand, two fingers pumping inside her while she ground against his palm. "Deeper," she moaned. Fiona took her place on his cock after Becca came, shuddering, her walls clenching around him. Fiona was slower, sensual, rolling her hips in circles that made him groan into Maris's skin.
Vera knelt between his legs, tongue lapping where he entered Fiona. The added sensation-wet, insistent-pushed him closer. "Don't stop," Fiona panted, her pussy fluttering. Becca and Maris kissed him, tongues invading his mouth, tasting each other on his lips. The ritual's chant rose, a hypnotic drone that synced with their movements. Alex's body arched, every nerve alight.
Kira came first, crying out as her juices soaked his hand. She collapsed against him, whispering praises. Fiona followed, her orgasm pulling him over the edge. He thrust hard, spilling inside her, waves crashing through him. But they weren't done. Vera climbed on, her body cooler, almost feverish. She rode him reverse, ass grinding down, taking him deep. "The circle completes," she said, voice echoing unnaturally.
The others touched her-fingers in her hair, on her clit, urging her on. Alex's hands gripped her waist, pounding up despite the ache. Maris straddled his face again, her thighs trembling as he ate her out, lapping her swollen lips. Becca and Fiona knelt beside, one sucking his balls, the other kissing Vera's back. Sensory overload-tastes, touches, the slick slide of bodies.
Horror crept back in whispers. The women's eyes glowed faintly now, skin too smooth, movements too fluid. Were they spirits? Succubi drawn by the old rites? Alex's mind reeled, but his cock hardened again, traitorous. Vera's pussy tightened, milking him. She came with a wail that shook the rafters, and he followed, pulsing hot inside her.
They didn't release him fully. The ritual looped-positions shifting, mouths and hands exploring anew. Kira on her back now, legs spread wide as Alex fucked her slow, deep. Fiona's tongue on his ass, rimming with filthy precision. "Taste the devotion," she murmured. Becca rode his fingers, Maris his mouth, Vera chanting low, her hands binding invisible threads.
Orgasms blurred-his, theirs-until exhaustion tugged. But the pull remained, addictive. In the church's gloom, the horror of their otherness fueled the fire. They were women, yet more-eternal, insatiable. Alex surrendered, lost in the rite's embrace.
Sweat-slicked, they finally stilled. Kira kissed his forehead. "You've joined us." The candles dimmed. Outside, rain fell softer. Alex lay there, spent, the weight of what he'd unleashed settling like fog. The ritual bound him now, a thread of desire and dread.
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