In_Darkness_Dwells - Sex Stories

In_Darkness_Dwells

... people.” Hearing the cold, deep voice, Sorine looked over her shoulder. The man with the goat skull was following her, gripping the knife still dripping with infant blood. “This is the sin that flows through your veins. This is the truth that you have rebelled against, the truth of who you are, but no matter how hard you fight, this truth will never die.”

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, continuing to run.

She passed by rooms where human skin and blood were being used to write pages of profane knowledge, and their bones and organs were crafted into items for witchcraft. The people performing these rituals were covered in tattoos, brands, scars, and piercings, their bodies mutilated almost as horribly as their victims. The squelching of tearing flesh, cracking of bones, splattering of blood, and the screaming of anguish made Sorine feel like hot irons were being driven into her ears.

“No prayer can ever undo the crimes of your ancestors. No amount of time can ever absolve you of their atrocities. You, your children, your children’s children, and every generation that follows will be tainted by what has happened here. All those who carry my blood can never enter the kingdom of Heaven. God does not love you, but we love you. Join us, Sorine. Accept your place in our family.”

“No! Get away!”

Sorine turned a corner and found herself at a dead end. She frantically beat her hands against the stone, praying for it to crumble. Then, realizing she was trapped, she curled ...

... up into a ball, covering her ears and shutting her eyes. Despite that, she could still hear the screaming and see all the tortures and horrific rituals with her mind’s eyes. She couldn’t turn away from it; they filled every sense and dug deep into her gray matter like wriggling worms.

“Join us, Sorine,” the man said, entering the room and being followed by other cultists. “Join us.”

----------

Volker didn’t understand what was going on. The last thing he remembered was being in Romania at night, but now he found himself in Berlin during the day. He couldn’t move from where he was standing nor touch or communicate with anyone around him. He was at some kind of rally attended by thousands of people. Red flags hung, displaying a strange diagonal cross, and there were multiple statues of eagles. Behind his podium from atop a stage, a man he didn’t recognize, sporting a tiny mustache, shouted about the merits of nationalism, proclaimed the supremacy of Germany, and heaped blame upon nations and ethnic groups. The louder and more intense he became, the more the people cheered while extending one arm in a Roman salute.

“What is happening?” Volker muttered.

The world around him began to shift, showing him more rallies and parades where soldiers marched down streets with rifles, walking before and in front of military vehicles. He watched German tanks roll across the land, saw soldiers murder civilians, and erect flags and barbed wire. The man’s voice continued to boom ...