The Early Black Mass.

[ShadowKnux372]

She holds her staff as she moves along the corridor. The clack of her hooves against the cobblestone floor echoes in the lonely hall, aided by the sound of the staff she carries tapping against the stone in time with her steps. The staff is her symbol, a status item that she chose for the imposing look it had, with the misshapen skull adorning the tip a symbol of the fear she inspired within the ranks that served her. Or so it was supposed to be.

As it stood, she was already in a bad mood, as her recruits and members had already disobeyed her; she currently headed her way to the Grand Hall, where their most sacred and anticipated ceremony was, against her mandate to wait for her presence, already taking place. Two grand doors stood before her, and behind them, muffled sounds could be heard, sounds she knew all to well the source of, and her face reddened with suppressed anger...and suppressed arousal.

The Baphomet slammed her staff against the doors, forcing them open, to survey the Grand Hall, and all that was before her. Her nostrils were immediately assaulted with the familiar, musky scent, the scent of man, and the scent of monster, locked together in coitus. And that is exactly what she saw and heard, here in the Grand Hall, as all her followers locked with their Big Brothers in the sacred celebration of the Sabbath.

Originally, this Baphomet planned to cancel all of the activity as soon as she entered the room, and demand a cancellation for their insolence at starting without her overlooking the ceremony from start to finish. However, assailed by the scent, sights, and sounds as she was, she relented, mentally chastising herself for coddling her followers. But, she realized how much they had been anticipating this celebration, and thus, walked further inward, aiming her path towards her elevated throne that would overlook all the activity.

Her path would not be straightforward, however. She would have to do some maneuvering to avoid disturbing her followers as they writhed in pleasure with their beloved lovers, their loving Big Brothers. The first obstacle she had to walk around, while paying close attention to the actions taken, was her Second-In-Command Witch, Alteria. Her red silken outfit was in tatters on her body; she had obviously charmer her Big Brother into literally ripping it from her form to get to the smooth, supple skin beneath, her tiny nipples erect beneath his touch. Though the true activity was already in motion, as his throbbing manhood plunged between her short, smooth legs, causing the usually business-like magical girl to cry out in pleasure as her deepest parts were pressed against with each thrust of the wiry young lover's loins, his face screwed up in concentration and desire as he moved to try to go even deeper into her youthful form.

Next would be to maneuver around the large table where they would typically hold meetings. Of course, during the Black Mass, such a place was merely another location to engage in sexual congress. In this regard, a much more muscular and older man sat on a chair, the back turned to the table so that he could lean back, as he enjoyed the sensation of a pair of tongues lathering his member and lavishing it with affection. A pair of almost identical Orcs lapped at him with their trademark devotion, almost fighting at times for who could get more to taste of him at the moment. Pink-skinned and curvy even as lolis, the Baphomet smirked as she walked past and heard their moans of hunger and arousal. Their story was knowledge to few besides her, but it made her swell with pride and twisted arousal, knowing that only one Orc was his wife; the other was their child, already having decided that she would also be one with the man.

Taking the long way around this lengthy table, another pair of lovers greeted her as she rounded the corner. A much younger male, perhaps mid-teens in his age, and a recent recruit to the great Sabbath, groaned and sweated from sheer pleasure overload, and he was hardly getting much of a workout, in the Baphomet's eyes. He must not quite have acclimated to the strange foreign touches, not just of monsterkind, but of intimacy in general. Though, the Baphomet had to admit, such a touch would be foreign to most, as she watched six tentacles from the flat-chested Scylla wrapped around his member completely, stroking and squeezing it firmly yet lovingly. The Scylla, obviously a dominant and persistent lover, licked her lips in anticipation of the boy's future offering to her, and what would be to come.

The Baphomet smiled and walked onward, still clacking her staff uselessly against the smooth floor of the Grand Hall as she walked. All this ambiance, the erotic display that she had to travel through just to get a proper view of all her followers, of which so many more remained off in corners and other locations she had not passed...it filled her with pride, as well as the warm feeling of almost incomparable arousal. She was horny as she could be, a testament of her arousal already sliding warmly down her right leg. But her throne was within sight; she could soon take care of herself with a proper material to apply visual aid to the act.

One last obstacle lay in her way, directly upon the steps leading to her throne. Sprawled vertically against the steps, another man who had proved himself worthy of more than one mate lay, licking at one who stood over him, rubbing her sacred area even as his tongue hungrily lapped over it, the lusciously young-looking Mantis adoring the affection that was given to her. Though not as much as the green-skinned cute one that currently bounced upon his loins, the tiniest of bulges appearing whenever she slid herself down to fill herself completely with his erection. The Sylph's cries were of the purest ecstasy, and even as the Baphomet walked past this diverse little threesome, she heard the telltale gasp of the Sylph, and the grunt of a pleased male, and watched as bits of white oozed out from their union, even as the Sylph took as much within her as she possibly could, not wanting a drop wasted onto the marble floor when it could instead fill her insides. What couldn't fill her tiny body, quickly filled the Mantis's throat, as she dove for the still-hard organ after the Sylph slipped off for a moment's rest.

Her path clear, the Baphomet finished her way up her steps and turned to sit in her throne, easily made for a being thrice her size, to add to her presence. There, she let her staff lay upon one of the arms, as she leaned her elbow onto the other, propping her head upon it as she looked ahead. Indeed, the room was full of screams of ecstasy, the movement of furious, frenetic passion between couples, and the true example of just how alluring the charm of a small girl's body was to all these men, happily indoctrinated to the Sabbath's teaching. Filled with arousal from all the sights and her own ego being stroked, so, too, was her body stroked by her own demonic hands, finding their way to her burning loins, as she stroked the wetness beneath, soft sighs belying her expression as she gazed hungrily at all that she commanded, all that she surveyed...

Someday, she too would join in. Someday, she, too, would have a Big Brother that would be worthy of her, who would be able to please her, to hunger for her body in all it's child-like glory, to plunge his hard, thick manhood between her legs and give her pleasure that no being could hope to achieve alone.

Still, for the moment, she would have to make do with her own skills of masturbation, as she watched over her flock, watching the ceremony continue. Outside the Grand Hall, and the entirety of the castle that held it, the moon would rise, and would fall, to make way for the sun's reappearance from the day, and still the movement and noise from within the Grand Hall would not cease, until the sun was at it's absolute highest in the sky the next day, when the great Baphomet would call for an end to the festivities with a strike of her staff against the ground.

The glory of the Black Mass.

The glory of the Sabbath.