The sky was turning a dark purple color as they day approached twilight. Insects, snakes, cats, and all sorts of other nocturnal fauna began to stir during this time. Somewhere deep in the Amazon drums were beginning to sound.
Tum. Tum. Tum.
The noise was rhythmic. It resonated deep into the souls of the Shadow Priests as they began the Initiation. There were thirteen in total, 12 for the lunar months and one signifying the unity of them all. The Shadow Priests were mostly naked; their bodies were painted to look like skeletons and each one wore a mask over his face of a different Amazon demon. Their penises were painted in bright colors to imitate the dangerous snakes that prowled the area.
As with all Initiation ceremonies, a blood sacrifice was needed. A young woman of thirteen years was being led into the Pit of Skulls. A large altar was constructed in the center that was in the shape of a W. The 12 Shadow Priests lined the circular pit and banged on their drums. The thirteenth, the Shadow Master, stood at the front of the W shaped altar. When the young girl had reached the W, she was stripped naked of her garments. The Shadow Master began to bathe her with a purified liquid. He poured all over her body a glistening oil that made her body shine; fire reflected off her body as it dance wickedly in the 13 torches that line the Pit of Skulls. Positioning her to bend over, the Shadow Master raised a wooden staff to her small all. 13 blows landed on her, each one harder than the last. Tears began to run down her face as the pain burned into her flesh. By the end, 13 stripes had marked her bottom, a testament to ascertain the validity of her mortal body; Divinities do not feel pain.
The drums stopped momentarily. The Shadow Master, in his high and reedy voice, began to chant in the guttural language of the Amazon. The girl laid herself down onto the W shaped altar and then the Shadow Master began to tie her arms and ankles to the outer edges of the W. The girl breathed heavily in a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Tum. Tum. Tum.
The drums began to beat again, but at a quicker pace. The Shadow Master began to touch the body of the girl, feeling her life force as he squeezed her small breasts. He thrust a rough finger into her slit eliciting a painful sob. He thrust into her thirteen times, as was the custom. She was a virgin, of course, but he had to make double, triple, let alone thirteen times sure. He removed his finger and made a motion to all the other Shadow Priests to stop.
“Prince Naskol, son of the Jaguar King, future lead of the Amazon, you are summoned into the Pit of Skulls.” Rang the Shadow Master in his reedy voice. A young man of around 26 years old approached the altar. He was tall for an Amazon male, and his skin was as red as the setting sun. He was wearing a rich toga made of the black pelt of a jaguar. His tattoos bulged around his thick muscles. The sides of his head were shaved and a glistening pate of black hair hung down his back from the center of his head. His black eyes were ringed in jade green, a symbol of his royal heritage.
“I am here, Shadow Master.” Announced Prince Naskol. The Shadow Master fixed a piercing gaze through his mask on Naskol. “My Prince,” he said, “Are you ready to become King of the Amazons?”
Naskol made a fist and raised his right arm. He pounded on his chest in affirmation. “Yes, Shadow Master. I am ready.”
“Are you ready to continue the line of the Jaguar Kings? Are you ready to uphold the sacred traditions?”
“Are you ready to protect the people of your Amazon kingdom? Will you take a wife and father strong sons to carry on the line?”
“Are you now willing to embrace the Divinity of the Ancient Jaguar?”
“Yes.” Naskol’s voice was cool and bespoke of his confidence. The Shadow Master nodded in his approval. “Approach the virgin vessel, my Prince.” The Shadow Master reached into his robe and pulled out a long jagged knife made of obsidian. It was the same knife used in every Initiation since the beginning of time, so they said. As Naskol took the sacrificial knife, the Shadow Master backed away. The drums began to pound again.
Tum. Tum. Tum.
Naskol ran his hand over the girl’s tearstained face. Her breathing was rapid and her body was shivering. Gently he pulled back the hair from her face and looked into her eyes. With one deft motion he removed his garment and stood naked before everyone in the Pit of Skulls. Naskol moved until his was between the skinny thighs of the girl. He touched them and she squirmed. With both of his hands he spread apart her dark pink lips. A small moan of fear escaped her throat. Naskol left one hand on her sex and used his other hand to arouse his snake tattooed penis. He started to smack his length along her thigh in perfect rhythm to the drums that increased in tempo. After a short while Naskol was fully aroused. The glistening liquid that covered the girl’s body had aphrodisiac properties; his senses were awash in a fierce carnality that only specific herbs can bring upon. Naskol took his mighty length and drove it into the dry and resisting vagina of the girl. She screamed but her cries were drowned out by the sound of the drums. Naskol continued to pound the girl.
The Shadow Master began to chant the ancient spell. As he did the wind began to stir in a circular around the Pit of Skulls. The fires in the torches burned a black and blue flame and gave off and intense heat. Dangerous growls and shrieks of wild cats could be heard, even through this loud din. The souls of the dead began to rise out of the ground and prostrated towards the new Jaguar King. The Shadow Priests began to wail and sing as the energies around them infiltrated their senses.
Suddenly, Naskol felt his juices stir; he had drove himself into her a total of 169 times, 13 sets of 13 deep and furious thrusts. As they threatened to burst forth Naskol raised the knife and plunged it through the heart of the terrified girl. As he climaxed, the life force of the girl shuddered and then ripped out through her throat in one last scream.
The drums stopped. The wind died. The Shadow Masters and Shadow Priests collapsed onto the floor, their energies depleted through the Initiation. The souls of the dead fell back into the earth and not even an insect made a noise. All that could be heard was the sound of Naskol’s fiercely heart and his heavy breathing.
Naskol removed his penis from the dead body. He stepped back and allowed his breathing and heart to still. He focused in on what he now heard, a sharp ringing in his ears. The frequency could also be felt, as the ground beneath him began to tremor. The dead girl’s body began to glow and iridescent white. The body lifted off the altar as high as the bonds would permit. The winds began to stir again in the Pit of Skulls. A vortex had created a vacuum like state in the Pit of Skulls; Naskol struggled to stay planted on the ground even as the bodies of the fallen Shadow Priests were picked up and tossed around like fallen leaves. Naskol grunted as he worked hard to maintain his composure. The flames in the torches started to burn in a wicked purple color. A large bolt of lightning rippled through the sky right into the heart of the body. The winds died as did the humming sound. The ground ceased to vibrate and the colors in the torches returned to normal. The Shadow Priests slowly pulled themselves to their feet and resumed their prior positions.
Naskol focused on the convulsing body he had sacrificed minutes ago. The body began to change in color and size. After several moments a small woman lay in the bonds, the body of the girl gone forever. Skin as white as the clouds was decorated in exotic black spots. The woman was naked, her sex brilliantly displayed and her large breasts sprawled over her chest. Her face was delicate and feline in nature; large cat eyes were wreathed in black lashes. Her human like nose was lined in black, like a cat’s. Her lips were black and sharp fang were visible through her slightly ajar mouth. She moaned softly. Her long black claws dug into the sides of the W shaped altar.
“Release me,” she commanded. With great gusto Naskol slashed through the bonds. He cradled the body of the Divinity in his arms as she was weak through this Summons.
“Sapphara, Empress of the Night, we praise your enduring strength, wisdom, and ferocity.” The Shadow Master had approached and fell to his knees before the body of the Divinity.
“Blessings upon you, Shadow Master.” Purred the deep voice of Sapphara, Empress of the Night. “You may set me down now, young Jaguar.” Naskol did as he was bid and Sapphara stood and gazed around the Pit of Skulls. Her vivid green eyes began to pulsate black to white. “Young Jaguar, you have completed the initiation without fear. You are a mighty warrior and will serve your kingdom well. Come with me and pay homage to your Goddess.” Sapphara offered her small clawed hand to Naskol and led him deep into the black forest.
Her eyes lit the path before him. Sapphara could sense the excitement that was racing through his body. How she loved initiations. The Jaguar Kings were a proud race of humans who honored tradition, thoroughly. They made their way to an ancient stone temple. Columns as old as time itself were covered in vines and other plants. Within the temple existed a raised dais. With a nod of her head, the cobwebbed torches burned a pale purple light and pillows and furs appeared on the dais. Sapphara walked slowly towards the dais, with her nubile hips swinging seductively. She lounged herself down onto the pillows and furs. Her ripe ass was his focal point. She turned herself around and looked at him with pulsating eyes. “Well, Young Jaguar, it is time to honor your Goddess.” And with that, her legs spread wide open.
Naskol approached forward with a sense of overpowering confidence. It was the duty of every Jaguar King to worship the Goddess to ensure the prosperity of his people. As he walked towards her, his heart began to race. He mentally calmed it, summoning his hunter stealth. Naskol was still naked as he had left his garment in the Pit of Skulls. He knelt at her toes. With a gentle hand Naskol raised a dainty foot to his mouth and then kissed it. The scent of her skin was intoxicating; she smelled of tropical flowers, rain, and of course, sex. He kissed and caressed the length of her calve, nipping gently at the precious black spots that marked Sapphara’s semi-feline manifestation. Deep rolling purrs stirred in her throat as she lavished under his praise. Naskol approached her inner thigh and took a bite. Sapphara’s cat eyes opened and she squealed in delight. The lids of Naskol’s eyes were half lowered and a lazy smile split across his face.
“You are so beautiful, my Goddess, Empress of the Night.” Whispered Naskol.
“You are so beautiful, Young Jaguar.” Said Sapphara to Naskol. He slowly moved himself and began his ministrations on her other leg. When he had reached the junction of her thighs he took a quick lick at her pearly juices. He nearly swooned at the tastes; mangos. Naskol skipped that area and kissed up to her navel and then dipped his tongue inside. He continued to work his way up her lovely torso, kissing and biting and licking her black spots. Sapphara sighed in her pleasure and her eyes continued to pulsate from black to white and occasionally to green. As her pleasure increased, the darker the purple flames burned in their torches.
At her breasts Naskol fondled them. He squeezed her magnificent peaks before drawing one of them into his mouth. Sapphara moaned as he bit down onto a sensitive nipple.
Naskol, she decided, was very good at worshipping the Goddess.
At this point, Naskol straddled Sapphara, his erection was evident as it pressed against the softness of her damp inner thighs. He grabbed her wrists and kissed the insides of them. He pressed kissed on her palm and traced a heated path up her arm to her neck and then back down the other arm. Sapphara took his face in to her clawed hands, and sitting up, drew his head to rest on her forehead. He looked into her eyes and was momentarily spellbound as he watched a glimpse of his future, and his past lives; he remembered Sapphara. Sapphara broke his view when she kissed his mouth, still grasping his head. She slid a forked tongue into his mouth and teased his mortal mouth. She rocked her pelvis and ground her wetness into his throbbing manhood. Naskol broke the kiss and his head shot back, baring his throat to Sapphara. She wasted no time and sank her sharp teeth into his neck, drawing blood. When she withdrew, two streaks of cherry red blood dribbled down her chin. Naskol leaned forward and licked his coppery blood off of her face, relishing in the power he felt surging through his body.
He pushed Sapphara back down on the furs and with one quick thrust plunged into her. He stayed there for a few moments, closed his eyes, and whispered prayers into her ears. When he had finished, he began to move slowly. Sapphara’s breathing became sporadic as her pleasure built. She traced her clawed hands down his back and whispered sentiments of encouragement in his ears.
“You will take a wife and father many sons and daughters, Young Jaguar. Ahh,” she moaned in delight.
“You will lead your people, ahhh ahhh, with dignity and, ahhhh ahhh ahhhhh, grace.” Naskol was picking up speed drove himself deeper and deeper every time. Sapphara was very vocal in her pleasure, screaming, purring, and even unleashing feline growls that reverberated deep into the bowels of the forests.
Sapphara’s inner walls began to tremor and they gripped the rigid swollen length that belonged to Naskol. The flames became black and the winds stirred in the temple. The familiar buzzing frequency could be heard that flooded all of Naskol’s senses. Suddenly her divine vagina contracted and Sapphara climaxed. Her body convulsed and she growled in her fulfillment. Using her claws she scratched bleeding welts into his back. Naskol yelled in a mixture of both pain and incredible pleasure as he unleashed his juices into the body of the Goddess. He slumped over her body and felt completely drained of his energy. His back bore 13 angry and bleeding scratches; no one could deny his Worship of the Goddess. He lay there for a long time and Sapphara caressed his worn out body.
After a time, Naskol had fallen asleep. Sapphara’s body turned into mist and then materialized at the entrance of the temple. She smiled in contentment at the young Jaguar King.
“Bless you, Young Jaguar,” she said, “But be warned, change is coming to your land that I cannot stop.” She leaned forward and kissed his sleeping face. Sapphara turned towards the temple entrance and transformed herself into a mighty white and black spotted cat and leaped into the forest. She ran with lightning speed, surveying her forest domain before jumping into the sky.