[The voice is soft, smooth, smoky, accompanied by what looks like dozens of shadowy, dark tendrils slithering out of the darkened woods, seizing the solemn, robed worshippers and prompting shouts of shock and horror. Rarely do the gods interfere in the worship of any mortals -- for it's all the same to a deity, the grain and wine of the peaceful valley folk or the blood and flesh of the mountain people. It just varies which god will answer the call, accept the sacrifice. Another would've allowed the trembling, teary-eyed youth to be slaughtered, would've reveled in their shed blood, their gasps for life.
But not this god. He enjoys blood, but he prefers to accept his sacrifices in another manner -- one no less public or demonstrative, but definitely less fatal. The shadowy bonds drag the elder away from the altar, letting him fall to his knees in worship as the god appears from the shadows, dark-eyed and clothed in smoky garments that seem to be made of darkness itself.
Corrigan, god of secret, sacred, forbidden desire and taboo pleasures, allowed the wispy tendrils of his divine essence to release the mountain worshippers, slithering instead up and over the altar to examine the bound, trembling sacrifice. Young, healthy, warm beneath the boldly exploring appendages which slowly crept under the loose clothes and began seeking out the places that would make the youth squirm in pleasure.
Corrigan smiles, stepping closer, looming strong and huge above the altar, one hand moving to stroke at the young captive's shivering thigh.] Do not fear, little mortal. Submit to me and I will not harm you.
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SEXGOD BLESS US EVERY ONE
Date: 2022-12-25 08:41 pm (UTC)[The voice is soft, smooth, smoky, accompanied by what looks like dozens of shadowy, dark tendrils slithering out of the darkened woods, seizing the solemn, robed worshippers and prompting shouts of shock and horror. Rarely do the gods interfere in the worship of any mortals -- for it's all the same to a deity, the grain and wine of the peaceful valley folk or the blood and flesh of the mountain people. It just varies which god will answer the call, accept the sacrifice. Another would've allowed the trembling, teary-eyed youth to be slaughtered, would've reveled in their shed blood, their gasps for life.
But not this god. He enjoys blood, but he prefers to accept his sacrifices in another manner -- one no less public or demonstrative, but definitely less fatal. The shadowy bonds drag the elder away from the altar, letting him fall to his knees in worship as the god appears from the shadows, dark-eyed and clothed in smoky garments that seem to be made of darkness itself.
Corrigan, god of secret, sacred, forbidden desire and taboo pleasures, allowed the wispy tendrils of his divine essence to release the mountain worshippers, slithering instead up and over the altar to examine the bound, trembling sacrifice. Young, healthy, warm beneath the boldly exploring appendages which slowly crept under the loose clothes and began seeking out the places that would make the youth squirm in pleasure.
Corrigan smiles, stepping closer, looming strong and huge above the altar, one hand moving to stroke at the young captive's shivering thigh.] Do not fear, little mortal. Submit to me and I will not harm you.