1. Ahriman: The Evolution of a Serial Killer 9


    Date: 7/28/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Anal, Consensual Sex, Cruelty, Discipline, Domination/submission, Extreme, Fisting, Horror, Lactation, Male Domination, Murder, Pregnant, Slavery, Spanking, Torture, Violence, Written by women, Author: gl0771, Rating: 66.7, Source: sexstories.com

    the most sophisticated hospital room, and he was confident that he could deliver his child safely. He had spent most of the last four months reading about how to do it, and he was not worried. Kaneez was a different story. She clutched at his arm when he laid her on the bed. "My Lord, Kaneez cannot do this! It hurts, My Lord." "I know it does, my mate, but think. When it is over, you will have a beautiful child to love and care for and raise in the glory of Chernobog." He caressed her head as another contraction crashed into her. It had only been a few minutes since her water had broken, but he knew his Kaneez was special, and he wouldn't be surprised if she had the fastest labor in history. It may not have been the fastest, but it was fast. Within two hours of her water breaking, he held his son in his arms, wrapped in a soft blanket. It had been a short but intense labor, and Kaneez was asleep behind him. The mess of childbirth had been cleaned up by Giolla. She had done so quickly but stiffly, and now, she was kneeling in the corner of the room, her head down and her hands behind her back. He had done every test on his son that the hospital staff would have, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. He was perfect. "Samil, my son," he breathed as he gazed into his son's blue eyes. He inhaled deeply and savored his scent and then he left the room with his child. He walked to the library and opened the altar doors. He pulled off the blanket and placed his newborn son ...
    next to the obsidian bowl. "Do not be afraid, my son," he whispered as he sliced his own palm with the dagger and held it over the bowl until it was full. He clenched his fist until the blood stopped flowing, and then he took his child's tiny hand and pricked the palm with the tip of the blade. Samil let out a cry, but it quickly died down to a whimper, and Ahriman held the little hand over the bowl until a single drop fell to mix with his own blood. He placed his thumb over the boy's pinprick of a wound until he was satisfied it was no longer bleeding, and then he dipped his finger in the bowl and drew Chernobog's symbol on his son's chest and belly before doing the same on his own forearms. When the symbols were dry, he took his son in his hands, knelt before the altar, and held Samil up high. "Chernobog, I ask that you bless this child and keep him safe throughout his life. I dedicate his life to you and vow to raise him in such a way that will please you, and I vow to teach him all that is necessary for him to grow in your esteem and your grace." He cradled his son close to his chest and, to his shock and horror, felt a tear escape the corner of his eye. He hadn't cried since he was four years old, and he hastily wiped it away. Tears were a sign of weakness. Only bitches and whores and others cried. Ahriman didn't cry. As if sensing his father's unease, Samil began to whimper, and he quickly wrapped the boy up again and walked back to the birthing room. Kaneez was awake, ...
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