Rites and Wrongs - by PM2K

[PM2K]

A new story by yours truly...

Rites and Wrongs - by PM2K (2012)

A hot, suffocating night.
The cold light of a full moon casts harsh shadows off of the cypress and willow trees surrounding the glade in the bayou. The eye of an observer would be drawn instantly towards the massive willow growing in the center of the grassy space. It is ancient, shown by its massive size and spread of its weeping branches, but shows no signs of aging as other trees would of its bulk.
This observer, no doubt still awestruck by the willow tree, would also be stunned by how the glade is shaped. A perfect circle, too perfect to be solely formed by nature. A ring of white, same-sized stones seem to confirm this, which orbit the base of the tree.
The sounds of chanting draws the ear of the observer, should one be present, and a sideways glance would catch movement from the tree line. The flickering of yellowish light signals the approach of five figures walking in a line. All young women. All wear black silk hooded robes with red linings, which flap open with each step to reveal they are naked underneath the fabric. Two at the rear of the column carry a pole balanced on their shoulders, a heavy canvas bag and a smaller duffle bag swinging between them.
And these women? What of them?
Kyrie, a tall redhead. She leads the way, holding a wood and metal torch in her left hand, its flame hissing as the butane within it feeds the fire. A leather covered case is tucked under her right arm.
Sharp green eyes. Long hair spilling forward over her bare chest from beneath the hood. A thick gold chain hangs around her neck, suspending a red colored pendent twice the size of a silver dollar between her ample breasts. It depicts a pentagram within a hollow circle, its single point aimed downwards.
Sally follows. Blonde, blue eyed. She is a half head shorter than Kyrie. Her long hair has been entwined into twin pigtails hanging down in front to bounce off her bare breasts. The effect makes her look like an evil red riding hood, which has been pointed out to her more than once. A smaller gold chain holds a smaller, quarter-sized pentagram between her breasts.
Rika is third. Long, jet black hair, cold gray eyes and near amazonian height - she is the tallest of all of them, a good head and shoulders above Kyrie - earned her the nickname Xena, but only behind her back. A golden nose ring glitters from her right nostril, matching the chain and pentagram pendent she wears.
Behind them is Cyndi, short-haired platinum blonde with black highlights. So pale she seems ghostlike. Icy blue eyes glitter. She is sweating under the weight of her end of the wooden pole. Her pendent matches the others, including Becca's who is holding the other end of the pole.
Last in line, the short-haired brunette struggles to keep up. She and Cyndi are the same height, which puts them an inch shorter than Sally. Still, Becca doesn't lose the rhythm of the chant she and the others continue to utter, something in a thick, guttural tongue which would hurt the ears of any listener of good conscience.
At last, the column reaches the center of the glade and face the tree itself. Continuing to chant, the women quickly set about their tasks. Kyrie positions herself in front of the tree, and directs Cyndi and Becca to place their burden close by. Rika walks slowly over to the duffle bag, unzips it, and extracts a length of hemp rope. She then approaches the tree, and with a smooth motion tosses the rope so it unspools and loops around a well worn, thick branch, hanging twice her height above her. She maintains her hold on one end of the rope.
Sally moves forward to grasp the other end of the rope, then reaches into the canvas bag and secures the contents to it.
A nod from Kyrie and Rika pulls hard on the rope, causing the bag's occupant to swing free and rise rapidly upward.
It is another young woman, perhaps barely college age. She is naked like the others, brown skinned, but bound tightly with hemp, her ankles lashed together, her arms and hands secured behind her, her breasts surrounded with rope. Those familiar with the practice would recognize Japanese rope bondage techniques at work. Her dark hair is boyishly short, but her curvy figure is anything but.
Her mouth is stopped up with a ball gag, from which weak whimpering sounds can be heard, sputtering and fearful. Her eyes are wide and terror filled as she is hauled ankles first to be suspended from the tree branch. From long practice, Rika, still chanting, secures the rope using an exposed tree root, then joins the others, who form a tight semicircle with the helpless, squirming girl hanging upside down near its center.
Kyrie gestures again, and the group falls silent, save for the muffled sounds of the woman. She kneels down to unlatch the case she hand been cradling, and opens it to reveal its red plush interior. Reaching inside, she extracts a black handled sickle, its blade silvery in hue.
Standing erect once more, Kyrie stretches out her left hand, which wields the torch, and her right, holding the sickle. The sight of it induces sharp, excited intakes of breath from the quartet standing in formation, and muffled squeals of fear from the bound girl.
"Hear me, oh Satan! Oh, Dark One! Invoke your infernal blessing on us, the most unworthy.... Accept this sacrifice of innocent blood, so that thy thirst will be sated! Thy will be done!"
The four others chant in unison.
"Hail, Satan!"
Kyrie places the torch down, securing it in a small hole dug for just this purpose. She approaches the terrified girl, who hangs so her upside down face is even with the red head. She holds the sickle so the prisoner can see it clearly, and shudders with pleasure when she sees the fear in her wide open eyes.
"Innocence, be damned! And take thy sacrifice directly to hell, for thy own infernal satisfaction!" Kyrie shouts. She grasps the back of the girl's head, and tilts it backwards, exposing the throat. Their eyes meet, and within her expression is one of the sweeter moments of this ritual, the fading away of hope.
"So let it be done..."
Kyrie places the sickle against the girl's throat, holding her head firmly. She applies pressure, and the point of the tool punctures the flesh, releasing together a thick spurt of blood and a moaning scream from the victim, still muffled by the ball gag. Her body thrashes helplessly, like a fish on a line, as Kyrie deftly opens up the girl's throat with a single, smooth right to left motion, moving the handle of the sickle to do so.
A heavy spray of blood splashes across Kyrie's chest and belly, and she shudders in pleasure at the hot sticky feel of it across her skin. At sight of this gory scene, Sally giggles with delight, Becca laughs, Cyndi stares and trembles and Rika remains impassive, save for a slight smile.
The blood slows to a trickle, then a thin drool from the gaping wound forming a second mouth on the hanging woman. Her muffled cries, which became thick and bubbling, have grown silent, and her body no longer moves.
Kyrie steps back, then turns to her group, and grins, her white teeth a ghastly contrast to her blood soaked face.
"So.... who's ready for a beer?"

Cold Coors can in hand, Cyndi watches quietly as Kyrie cleans herself up, using bottled water and handi-wipes stored within the duffle bag. A bright white cooler sits beside the bag, and Sally opens the lid and reaches inside to fish out a dripping can.
"Fuck... I never get tired of that!" she laughs, still shaking with excitement. She deftly cracks open the beer and takes a long, noisy draw on its frothy contents.
Cyndi finds herself trembling despite the heat of the night. Her eyes catch Sally's, who grins in response.
"You kind of feel numb, right? Shaky? Maybe even a little sick... right?"
Cyndi nods, a weak smile appearing.
Sally smiles back warmly.
"Yeah... I was like that when I took part in my first ritual..." she said. "Now it just gets me wet... Fuck! It is just so fuckin' primal..."
Sally lets out a growl, then starts laughing again. She gestures towards the beer Cyndi is holding.
"Drink that, and have another. You'll feel better..."
Cyndi nods weakly, then takes a small sip from the can. She glances over to the tree, and stares into the open eyes of the young woman still hanging upside down from the branch. The gash in her throat is still wet. Her mouth, free of the gag, is open slightly.
"How... how long do we... uh..." she stammers.
"About an hour..." Rika says, as she squats down beside the cooler to grab herself a beer. "Just to make sure the witching hour has passed..."
"Then we cut her down, split her open, and dump her in the swamp..." Becca says cheerfully. "Like the others..."
Cyndi's puzzled expression causes Sally and Becca to laugh.
"Oh, yeah... don't you know your biology?" Becca continues. "Out here, bodies fall apart so fast, even if a gator doesn't get to her, she'll be gone in a couple of months..."
"Just another pile of mulch..." Sally adds.
"It isn't quite that easy..." Rika interjects. "But since there's places in this swamp which are bottomless..."
"Anyone can disappear... completely..." Kyrie finishes, smiling. "No traces. Like they never existed."
Cyndi nods, as the sense of unease begins to fade.

The sorority is old, tracing its roots back to the days when women of good breeding were first allowed to attend college in the south. Like others of its ilk, it had its secret rituals and vows designed to bring them together.
Unlike all of the others, though, this particular sorority had three elements which made it unique among the colleges south of the Mason-Dixie line... it had its own mansion, the well preserved remains of an old plantation house; its backyard melted into a vast swath of privately owned swampland; and, for a very select few within its ranks, the chance to pledge their loyalty and souls to the Prince of Darkness...

Kyrie, whose family had owned the property since the time of the Colonies, had discovered her great grandfather's journals while snooping. She was gripped by how, in the dying days of the Confederacy, he had turned his back on God, who he clearly saw was backing the hated North, and turned to the powers of darkness instead.
Switching spiritual allegiances didn't do him much good in the end - he was torn apart by an angry mob of former slaves who took revenge on a cruel master - but the plantation house itself survived, as did a portion of its land holdings, although few would want to own a swamp.
No matter. It is all Kyrie's now. Has been for years. Sole heir to the estate since that tragic accident when her mother's wheelchair rolled off the dock into the dark waters of the bayou. The authorities were certain it must have been an accident... after all, what sort of ten year old would drown her mother?
A dozen years later, that same heir is drinking beer and chatting with her coven, carefully selected from the others who joined the larger sorority she had set up with the family money, which also helped found the college they all attended.
The sabbats at the willow had been her own idea. While great granddad and his crew were busy drinking the blood of baby slaves in the basement of the mansion, this place had been sacred to others - real witches, if her research was correct - who had been performing sacrificial rites for centuries before, and it is this power she is determined to tap.
Kyrie nods towards the upside down girl, and salutes her with her beer can. She had the honor of being the thirteenth one... Hell, if that didn't show the powers of darkness the depths of her dedication...

"I think we've waited long enough... I'm cutting the meat down now..." Rika says flatly.
Kyrie nods, helping herself to the last beer. There had been enough for two each... dangerous to get sloppy in the swamp... and there was plenty back at the sorority house.
A heavy mist had begun to rise, obscuring both the tree and its sad cargo hanging from it, making it hard for the ladies to see clearly. Still, Rika reaches into the duffle and extracts a long machete, then heads off into the mist.
Cyndi watches the tall woman melt into the warm, slimy fog, and frowns.
"This... is this part of the magic?" she asks, gesturing to the thickening air. Sally and Becca exchange uncertain looks.
Kyrie laughs harshly, to cover up her own confusion. This has never happened before... but maybe... maybe it meant her infernal prayers have been answered.
Yes.... that must be it!
"Of course it is! Of course! It must be!" she exclaims excitedly. "We just have to be patient..."
Excitement races through the rest of the small coven. Sally, in a fit of passion, kisses Becca hard on the mouth, sucking her tongue hungrily. Cyndi's face is a mix of terror and anticipation.

Back at the tree, Rika frowns. This isn't right. Not right at all.
The rope swings empty, still draped limply over the branch of the fog shrouded willow.
Her hand grips the machete's handle, and a cold sweat beads all over her naked skin. She glances quickly over the ground, looking for signs, and finds only the black stain of blood marking the grass.
"The fuck?" Rika rasps aloud, an attempt to focus her understanding on the situation.
"Where's..."
A soft sound. Rika's heart skips a beat.
In a single motion, she swings around, slashing with the machete, but cuts through only fog, which is becoming harder to see through.
"Jesus...." she mutters.
Something light, like a breath of air, glides swiftly across the back of her neck. So swift, she barely feels the sensation. Yet she can sense something is there.
Before she can react further, Rika feels something thick and heavy clamp around her neck. Something which smells of rich growth and decay, of loam and growing things. Something which feels of leaves and sharp thorns.
She feels herself being lifted off the ground, and begins to kick as the pressure grows, slowly crushing her throat and pinching off her air. Her bare legs flail helplessly, failing to make contact with her assailant which she assumes must be looming behind her. She lashes wildly with her right arm, machete slashing, but nothing can dissuade the vice-like grip which continues to squeeze...
Rika's eyes bulge, and she tries to cry out, needs to cry out, but only thick gurgling sounds come out of her mouth, along with a heavy drool of blood. She hears sharp, crunching sounds, and it takes her a few moments to realize it is the noise of her own bones breaking.
Then with a soft gush, her throat splits open, both carotid arteries bursting in painless sprays of crimson, turned black in the cold moonlight. She feels a sheet of sticky wet heat flow down her bare front, and wants to lift her hands up to stop the flow. But her arms wouldn't work, instead hanging limply at her sides. The machete drops from her nerveless hand to thud on the ground far below.
Her eyes try to focus on her assailant, but fail. Giving up, they roll up inside her head instead, and Rika surrenders to the darkness.

"Oh, shit!"
Becca stares at Rika's crumpled form, lying at the foot of the willow tree. When their Amazon was delayed in returning from her task, her companions decided to check on her. At first, they weren't concerned - after all, the tree was barely twenty feet away from where they had been drinking.
But with the weird mist obscuring everything, it seemed to take hours to make their way towards it. Then, suddenly, the group finds itself standing over the body of one of their own.
Sally shakes her head in denial, while Cyndi starts to tremble. Kyrie looks on in shock, trying to fathom the meaning of this turn of events.
"What is this? What?" Becca exclaims shrilly. "Where's that girl you killed? What's happening?"
Sally grabs Becca's wrist, pulling hard.
"Let's go! Let's just get the fuck out of here..."
"Shut up! Just... be quiet..."
Kyrie's voice is sharp, even as she tries to fight off a sense of rising panic. Somehow, someone must have followed then here... maybe the sacrificed girl had friends...
But that couldn't be right... this place is so secret, it doesn't show on any public maps, and the path to get here is even more obscure.
Cyndi whimpers. The fog swirls around them, a living creature in search of prey.
"Look..." Kyrie says, managing to keep her voice sounding calm. "Whatever's happening, there's no way it can harm us, right? We performed the rite, as we have always done..."
"Tell that to Rika..." Cyndi says quietly.
"She should have waited..." Kyrie replies. "Damn... she's so impatient sometimes... maybe she overstepped some boundary, and paid the price... This sacred place isn't something to play around with..."

"Far too late to realize that...."
The voice seems to come from everywhere at once within the fog. Despite the heat and humidity, all four cloaked women shiver at its sound.
"You lot really don't have a clue, do you? None of you have the slightest idea or appreciation of the sort of forces you have been profaning here..." The voice is feminine, and as it continues to speak, it begins to center close to the tree, which is slowly becoming visible again, even as the world beyond it vanishes into milky mist.
"What's even worse," it says, "is it seems the only research you did on sacrificial rites is based on what you picked up from cheap horror movies...."
The foursome feel their blood turn to ice. Emerging slowly from the mists, naked and bloody, is their sacrifice. She is free of the ropes, and walks slowly, with terrible purpose, towards them.
"I mean, really... being killed by clichŽ is kind of insulting, you know?"
She smiles coldly.

Kyrie stares open mouthed, at a rare loss for words. Behind her, the others chatter mindlessly, as fear takes hold.
"Oh, fuck!" Sally exclaims. "What the hell's happening?"
"Somebody do something!" Becca says shrilly. "Grab her, or... just..."
"Oh, Jesus...." Cyndi stammers. "Look... look at her neck! How can she still be walking...?"
The sacrificial girl tilts her chin back, ensuring all get a good look at the ghastly slash splitting her throat in two.
"You stunned bitches still don't get it, do you?" she says, an odd bubbling sound from her cut throat providing a chilling counterpoint to her words.
"Sacrifice is meaningless unless the subject willingly gives up her precious gift of life. Anything less is just murder..."
Kyrie wants to stumble backwards away from the blood covered girl - in fact, her every instinct is screaming she do so - but her body refuses to respond.
She can hear the whimpers of the others in the coven, all rooted to the spot as she is. Sally, Cyndi, Becca... all helpless as their leader.
The girl continues to approach Kyrie, her expression a mix of cold amusement and general disgust. The massive slit across her neck gapes wide, blood still sputtering out, the droplets splattering across her bare breasts.
She stops in front of the red head, who trembles despite her paralysis. The dark haired girl leans in close, and Kyrie finds she cannot look away from her burning eyes staring up at her.
God.... she's got ancient eyes.... she thinks. What the fuck is she doing with such ancient eyes?
"Who... what... the hell are you?" she manages to gasp aloud.
The dark haired girl smiles, and Kyrie has trouble keeping her bladder from failing in response. The coppery stench of blood is smothering.
"Ah... you are finally interested in knowing me..." she says, lazily tracing her right index finger along the edges of her throat wound. "Well, if names are that important to you now, I suppose you could call me Cecile..."
The name has an icy ring of familiarity to it, but, overwhelmed with rising terror, Kyrie couldn't place it.
Cecile leans forward, and rises up on her toes to reach the taller woman. She whispers coldly into her ear.
"What you have been doing here is obscene... a profanity... a desecration of this most sacred place..."
Kyrie trembles, then winces as Cecile bites her earlobe, drawing a small trickle of blood. She laps it up with a flick of her tongue, then grasps the red head's chin, steadying her head as she looks right into her eyes.
"Your fate has already been decided..." Cecile says, then glances over to Cyndi, Sally and Becca.
"How about you three?" she asks, smiling slightly. "Are you willing to join your companion? Sacrifice yourselves to try and save her? Or maybe just to atone for your crimes?"
As one, Sally, Cyndi and Becca find they can move again, and after a brief pause, make a run for it, discarding their black hoods and cloaks to run naked into the mists.
In their terror, no one gives a second thought to Kyrie, left behind with Cecile.
Kyrie stares, watching her sorority sisters flee out of sight. Her heart sinks.
"Please... don't leave me..." Kyrie says quietly. "Oh, you stupid bitches..."
"Alone at last..." Cecile says, smiling.

The threesome run, with Becca leading the way, Cyndi and Sally close behind. In their terror, they do not feel the branches that claw at them, nor the grasses and undergrowth slashing at their bare skin.
Forced to slow down when their lungs threaten to burst, Sally staggers, and grasps at a nearby branch to steady herself. She glances at Becca, who slumps against a nearby tree. Cyndi has fallen to her knees, panting. All three are now slick and shiny with sweat.
"Where the hell are we going?" Sally wheezes at Becca. "We're in a world of hurt if we lose the trail..."
"Away.... just away..." Becca gasps. "The further away, the better..."
The weird fog continues to surround them, and Cyndi begins to utter a series of shallow sobs.
"We're not getting away... none of us..." she says. "We... dirtied something sacred... and that girl was sent from hell to collect us... I know it!"
"Calm down..." Becca says. "We didn't kill anyone... Kyrie did that. It was all her idea... and Rika always did the collecting... Maybe that's why we were allowed to leave... All we did was watch..."
"And helped perform the rites..." Cyndi says. "Face it... we're all guilty..."
Sally looks pensive. The persistence of the fog is unsettling, moreso as it appears to possess its own luminescence.
Still, it is helping them see each other and their surroundings.
But maybe Becca is right... maybe...
"Hey! Look!" Becca utters, gesturing beyond where the three are resting.
In front of them, partially obscured with mist, is the sight of the old plantation house, their refuge from the horrors this evening has brought.
All feel a sense of relief. None question why the building has appeared so quickly after their headlong flight from the glade.
Without another word, the three race towards the structure, which shimmers in the fog. The ground cover and thick curtain of trees melts away, revealing a wide stretch of soggy earth, covered in shallow puddles of water.
Bare feet slap on wet spongy ground, and splash through shallow pools of warm slimy water as the trio rush forward, towards the mansion.

Back at the glade, Kyrie quietly whimpers to herself.
"Please... don't leave me... please..." she utters, lips trembling.
"Loyalty... friendship.... it is a wonderful thing to experience, isn't it?" Cecile says. She runs her hands through Kyrie's hair, and kisses her on her pale cheek. "I wonder how far they'll get?"
A series of shrill screams suddenly cuts through the stifling night air, making her jump. The dark haired woman smiles humorlessly.
"Not far enough, it seems..."

"Oh God! Quicksand!"
Becca cries out in terror as she thrashes desperately in the sandy muck, already sunk waist deep in the deadly trap. Her breasts bounce freely, almost in time to the rippling of the gelatinous mass holding her firmly.
Sally and Cyndi are about a yard behind her, both knee deep and held fast by the thick, swirling sands.
The bog had been hidden beneath a thin skin of brackish water and leaves, and all three were stuck and sinking before they could react to the peril.
Ahead of them, the vision of the plantation house wavers, then winks out, replaced with endless stands of swamp water and cypress trees.
"I... I can't move my legs!" Cyndi wails, leaning over to grasp her right one. Pulling hard does nothing to loosen the quicksand's grip, even as her left leg slips down another inch deeper.
"Becca!" Sally cries out, watching the upper curve of her lover's bare ass slip under the slowly churning sands. The brunette twists around and reaches out in response, forcing a thick ripple of quicksand to move outwards from her trapped form.
"Sally! Help me! Please! It's sucking me down!" Becca pleas, desperation sharp in her voice.
The three continue to struggle, causing the whole area around then to tremble and wobble. Their motions merely whet the appetite of the quicksand bog, which having tasted them, now seeks to swallow them whole.
"Hang on! I'll... save you... ugh... somehow..." Sally says, leaning forward and straining to reach Becca, even as the rest of her hips vanish into the warm, slimy sands.
Cyndi, now giving up trying to lift her legs up with her hands, looks around frantically, as the quicksand rises to snugly surround her upper thighs. She sees nothing within reach to help... no branches, no vines, no strands of Spanish moss... nothing to grab onto and haul herself out.
A thick splash splatters her bare front with tepid clumps of quicksand. She turns her head to see that Sally has somehow managed to lunge forward towards Becca, partially exposing her sunken legs without fully freeing them, and is now grasping Becca's hand tightly.
To do this, the girl has belly flopped onto the quicksand's surface, and the impact has driven her partially under. Her ass sticks up, flecked with sand grains, as is her bare back, and as Cyndi watches it appears as if Sally is attempting to crawl towards Becca, even as the brunette steadily sinks deeper.
"Hang... hang on..." she hears Sally gasp, straining to move forward. Becca pulls hard, twisting her body to bring her other arm to bear, and using both grasps Sally's arms by the wrists.
Cyndi shudders now as she feels the gritty touch of quicksand pressing firmly against her bare crotch and slithering through her mound of pubic hair. The thick slurry begins to cup her ass, and deep beneath the swamp's surface, her toes can feel nothing solid below her, just more swirling wet sand.
Her companions continue to thrash, and she sees Sally's ass suddenly slip under the surface, just as Becca sinks to her rib cage.
Oh, God... Cyndi thinks, we're going to die here... we're all going to die...

Kyrie's lower lip trembles as the screams and pleas of the girls slice through the dark night. She scarcely feels her cloak being undone, only becoming aware when the silken weight of it slithers over her naked back and hips to land in a shimmering heap behind her heels.
"You won't be needing this..." Cecile says, her long arms enfolding Kyrie. The red head is shaking now, still unable to move her legs and arms. She starts as she feels Cecile's hands seize her buttocks and squeeze each firmly.
"I... ah..." she stammers, then her eyes widen as Cecile kisses her hard on the mouth, sucking in her tongue as she does so.
The blood within her head roars, muting the shrieks of terror from her sorority sisters, as the quicksand trapping them sucks them steadily downwards.
Kyrie stares in astonishment as Cecile breaks contact and smiles dreamily at her. Then she gently pushes Kyrie against the firm trunk of the massive willow tree.
For a moment, she thinks Cecile is intending to continue to take liberties with her, but a warm, almost slimy feeling on her back and ass puzzles her instead. Maybe it's a trick of the humidity, but the tree's bark begins to feel uncomfortable against her skin. Soft and slimy.
Leaning forward, Kyrie suddenly discovers she can't move away. Her eyes widen as she struggles, wiggling her hips and shoulders in an effort to break free.
Cecile looks on, smiling.
Kyrie feels the odd slimy feeling begin to creep over her pelvis, and cup the back of her legs. She thrashes, and now finds she can't get her upper arms free. They too begin to get covered...
In what?
Wiggling her hips again, Kyrie feels herself being drawn backwards. Able to bend herself forward a little bit, she turns her head, then stares in horror as she sees the impossible happening. The bark is flowing thickly over her arms, and each moment she can sense herself falling into the tree.
No... being absorbed by it!
"Oh, God.... no!" she utters, feeling the warm pulsing wood relentlessly ooze over her, even as it draws her further inwards....

"Oh, fuck!"
Sally feels the quicksand beneath her hips loosen, and suddenly her torso is rapidly submerging in the muck. A thick wave of gritty slime flows across her back, driving her to her chin, and only by hanging on to Becca's arms is she able to keep from being swallowed up completely.
"Sally! Oh, God..." Becca cries out, struggling to keep her up. The effort drives her deeper, and soon her breasts are pressing into the quicksand's thick, jiggling surface.
Gasping, Sally arches her back, managing to wrest her front free, but her action forces the rest of her body down. In a moment, she finds herself breast deep as well, although her breasts are half submerged and thickly coated in quicksand.
The two women stare at each other, holding onto each others arms tightly. They pull hard, but are unable to close the foot wide gap between them. The quicksand has thickened around them both, making it close to impossible to move through it.
"Don't... don't let go..." Becca says. Sally manages a slight smile.
"Not a chance..."
Cyndi, her belly slipping under, surrounded by a heavy collar of quicksand which sucks hard on her like hungry lips, cries quietly. Her friends are mere feet away, yet they might as well be miles.
"Oh... God... this is punishment, isn't it?" Cyndi says. "Punishment..."
Sally feels herself settle deeper, the quicksand rolling over her nipples and oozing to fill her cleavage. She can feel Becca trying to hold her up, seemingly unaware half of her breasts have been consumed by the greedy sand.
"If it is..." Sally says, "we deserve it..."
Becca nods.
"Straight to hell..." she replies. "I always wanted to do that with you, in the end, but this isn't what I had in mind..."
"Who knew?" Sally says.
The two manage a weak giggle, as they feel themselves continuing to be drawn downwards. Becca catches Cyndi's eye, noticing she is waist deep and sinking fast.
"Hell of an initiation, eh?" she quips, noticing the platinum blonde nodding.
A piercing wail echoes through the mists, and all three start.

Kyrie cries out, a sound formed from the purest emotions of fear.
She is now partly sealed within the liquifying trunk of the willow tree. The back of her head has sunk in completely, leaving only her face and her right ear free. Her breasts and belly remain exposed to air, as is her right forearm, left thigh and knee.
The rest of her has been fully absorbed by the tree, and she flinches as she feels it squirming around her, gliding over and kneading her trapped flesh.
Cecile leans against the tree bark, and sighs.
"I can feel it... the pulse of life..." she purrs. "How warm it is..." The bubbling sounds from her throat have ceased, the wet gash in her neck no longer bleeds. In fact, before the trapped girl's eyes, her throat slowly oozes shut, then seals, leaving no indication of ever having been cut open in the first place.
"Oh... oh, God... please... make... make it stop..." Kyrie croaks. She keeps feeling herself falling into the tree, even as the weird woodflesh continues to worm its way deep inside her, filling her bowels and intimate areas to near bursting.
"God? You call on God? You really got some nerve..." Cecile snorts. She watches as a wave of liquid bark oozes over Kyrie's belly and creeps up towards her bare breasts.
"And not even a single word to that dark prince of yours asking for assistance... even after all those innocent souls you dispatched in his honor... now what am I to think of that?"
"Please... just... kill me...." Kyrie whimpers. She feels her breasts submerge in pulsing wood, which flows over the rest of her left leg and races up her free arm. Her hand clenches helplessly at the dank air before it, too, is covered.
"Kill you? Oh, no..." Cecile says in response. "The ones I commune with have their own sense of justice..."
She leans close to Kyrie's face as the rest of her is absorbed. She kisses her on the lips, then leans back.
"You are going to get a taste of that power you worked so hard to obtain..." Cecile says quietly. "You will live out the rest of your human life as part of this sacred place... inside Mother Willow..."
Kyrie tries to scream, but a thick curtain of wood flows over her lips and fills her mouth. Her eyes bulge silently.
"You will feel it all, with every fiber of your body... the pulse of life throughout this entire swamp... the alligator, the frog, the snake, the fish, the craw daddies, the insects... the plants which grow and flourish... all of it..." Cecile says. "You will experience the cycle of birth, life, death and renewal, of creation and decay, as it happens over and over again..."
A faint whimper comes from the thickening tree bark. Already, Kyrie can feel what seems to be the march of a billion stinging insects wriggling through and over her flesh... and the sensation continues to grow and expand...
Cecile stares directly into Kyrie's eyes, even as more wet bark flows over her face.
"Experience the true power of Gaia... I hope you enjoy the taste..."
The final wave of bark smothers out Kyrie's response, erasing the last traces of her on the surface of the tree.

Cyndi squirms as her bare breasts sink out of sight in the swirling quicksand. She is soaked in sweat from the struggle, and is finding it harder to breathe the deeper she gets. Her arms are trapped at her sides, the victims of an earlier attempt to push herself out.
A harsh gurgling sound brings her attention back to the desperate efforts of Becca and Sally to remain afloat. Both have sunk to their ears, yet still are hanging on to each others hands, which remain above the sucking sands.
Becca strains to lift Sally up. The effort drives her deeper, forcing sand to flow over her chin to lap at her lower lip.
"Sally! Don't leave me!" Becca wails, as her lover slips further downwards. She sputters, attempting to free her mouth from the quicksand.
"Becca.. Bec... mpgph... mmmph..." is all Sally manages to get out before sinking to her nose. Her eyes dart, then fix on Becca. Bubbles begin to spray upwards from where her mouth has gone under, the action becoming more furious as the sand stops up her nostrils.
"No... no.... no! Sally! Hang on! Please!" Becca flinches, feeling Sally's hands grip her ferociously. Cyndi, feeling quicksand lapping at her collarbone now, cries softly. So close, yet so far away.
The bubbling has become a full boil as the rest of Sally's nose vanishes, leaving only her eyes, forehead and a tuft of blonde hair poking above the surface. She maintains eye contact with Becca, who has tilted her head slightly to keep her mouth clear of sand.
The bubbling has calmed, with the surface erupting only every now and then. Becca keeps looking at Sally's eyes, which blink several times. Her hands continue to grip her tightly.
Becca nods, tears in her eyes. She glances to Cyndi, who feels quicksand flowing over her shoulders.
"See you in hell... or wherever we end up..." she says, voice cracking slightly. All Cyndi can manage is a weak nod.
With a final spray of breath, Sally slips under, the wet sand flowing over her forehead and eyes, which close moments before the sand reaches them. She maintains her grip on Becca, who is quickly dragged under with her.
Sobbing quietly, Cyndi watches Becca submerge, leaving behind more bubbles in her wake. For a moment, a pair of hands remain above the sand, holding each other tightly. Then they slip under.
Staring at the still undulating surface of the quicksand which swallowed her companions, Cyndi feels herself continue to settle downwards, the sand surrounding her neck, then climbing upwards. Their collective thrashing had loosened up the whole area, helping to speed her descent.
Chin deep, she looks around into the night, noticing the mists beginning to lift. This doesn't surprise her.
"Please... forgive us..." she murmurs. Too tired to struggle, Cyndi doesn't even tilt her head back as the quicksand fills her ears and rises over her mouth and nose, her breath beginning to bubble out quietly in front of her. She watches the sand dance in front of her eyes until it is level with them, then closes them tight, feeling the warm sloppy muck press against her eyelids.
I'm coming, Becca, Sally... she thinks, as the quicksand glides up and over her face. Wait for me...

From the solid ground nearby, Cecile watches silently as the top of Cyndi's head slips under, the last of her breath forming a froth of sand and bubbly foam on the surface of the quicksand bog. A shallow dent left behind by the girl's departure slowly smoothes out.
Green eyes flashing, she glimpses two other churned up places in the pit, marking Sally and Becca's final resting places. The slimy sand continues to swirl and wobble for a time, then gradually stills. In time, all traces of the three will disappear.
Cecile sighs, sensing the presence of her companion behind her. The massive creature of mud, leaves and wood stands silently, even as she leans against its comforting bulk. It responds, a large mossy arm surrounding her petite form to cradle it gently.
The swamp's guardian and loyal daughter of Gaia leans into its warm muddy bulk, as the bubbles cease to rise from the quicksand.
Another soul released from its earthly form...
"That's a bad way to die, even for them..." Cecile says aloud. "I hope their god is merciful, and forgives them."
Unlike Kyrie, she takes no joy in the ending of life. Neither did the original coven, who, contrary to the histories of this place, never sacrificed any living thing to Gaia. To end life in the name of honoring it went against everything they believed in.
Cecile sighs again. Rarely does she get involved in the human world any more, but the deaths of a dozen innocents, whose blood profaned this sacred space, was an affront to Gaia which had to be met.
Still... while she had no regrets over Kyrie's fate, she wished if, somehow, her coven companions could have been spared.
But it wasn't up to Cecile, but to the one she served - and as she knows all too well, natural justice can be harsh.
Turning away from the quicksand bog, she and her silent companion leave, heading back into the dark swamps, and home...

[mudmanic2011]

Wow,what an awesome story...you're a very good writer PM2K!

[cnelson566]

I agree,very powerful story,thank you!

[nachtjaeger]

Incredible. Great imagery, really pulls one into the story.

[PM2K]

Thanks, all!