Smoking Mirrors
Copyright© 2025 by Snekguy
Chapter 5: Sacrifice
Supernatural Sex Story: Chapter 5: Sacrifice - When a hapless museum archivist damages an ancient obsidian mirror, he releases the trapped spirit of an Aztec war Goddess. Given no choice but to attach herself to him, the deity takes up residence in his life, whether either of them likes it or not. If the pair can learn to stop bickering, they might be able to secure both a crucial promotion and the deity’s continued existence.
Caution: This Supernatural Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Historical Horror Workplace Paranormal Furry Magic Demons Oral Sex Petting Size Slow
Charles was woken by heat, groggily throwing off his heavy blanket to find that he was already sweating. It was autumn, yet his room was like a sauna, what resembled a thick mist hanging in the air. It took him a couple of minutes more to come around and realize what was happening.
His room had been overtaken by shadow, his old king-sized bed sitting in an island that was surrounded by inky darkness. He couldn’t see the walls or the ceiling, and the carpeted floor vanished only a foot from where the walls should have been.
In their place, a forest began to grow. As though a full moon was casting its light on them to drive back the shadow, fern fronds and tree trunks appeared, hanging vines drooping from a dense jungle canopy that sprouted above him. Where there had been carpet, there was now soil, colorful flowers not unlike the ones Tez wore on her crown adding a splash of vibrancy to the dense undergrowth. The fog was soupy enough to ensure that he couldn’t see more than perhaps fifty feet in any direction, clinging low to the ground, the heat permeating everything. The newly-grown forest was dimly lit, silvery moonlight taking on a green tint as it bled through the leaves.
“Great, another dream,” he grumbled to himself. “What is it this time?”
Something was different, however. He knew where – and who – he was. When he glanced down, he saw not a stranger’s body, but his own. The only thing that seemed out of place was the weighty obsidian amulet that hung across his bare chest. Curious, he pinched himself, wondering if that might wake him up like it did in the cartoons.
“Is this a dream?” he wondered aloud as he glanced around what had recently been his bedroom.
The light of burning torches drew his gaze, a pair of them appearing at the foot of his bed. They were staked into the ground on wooden poles, rising to chest height. More followed behind them, igniting two by two until they reached the foot of a stone staircase. They climbed it, illuminating the masonry as they went, until Charles found himself staring up at a great ziggurat. It was almost overcome by roots and vines, but it stood tall and proud, its highest reaches obscured by the canopy.
A dark figure was making its way down the stone steps, its gait familiar, lustrous fur with jaguar spots lit by the fires as it passed them. It was Tez, her feather headdress swaying, the turquoise fabric of her loincloth and the billowing strips that joined to the bracelets on her wrists swinging. Her gold and jewelry glinted in the firelight, drawing attention to every precious stone, her eyes aglow. She looked even more regal than usual, descending down toward him, the way that she slowly spread her arms as though to announce herself fanning out that silken fabric like wings.
“This is no dream,” she said as she neared the bottom step, her feline paws splaying upon the damp stonework. “It may be more accurate to say that you are not asleep,” she added with a smile. Just like the heavy necklaces that hung down over her chest, her pearly fangs shone in the firelight. “Your senses and your perception bow to my will.”
“What are you doing?” he wondered, momentarily struck by her beauty. She was a vision by firelight, the way that the orange flames flickered across her gleaming coat and cast dancing shadows picking out every sculpted muscle, the beads of moisture that clung to her body twinkling like stars. “I thought you’d used up most of your energy?”
“Oh, Tlamatini,” she said, his nickname joined by a sultry laugh that made his heart miss a beat. “As wise as you are, have you not realized from whence I have been drawing my power?”
“It wasn’t the sacrifice?” he asked.
“The sacrifice, along with your gift of the mirror and pendant, certainly gave me what I required to perform my scrying.” She reached the ground now, her clawed feet transitioning to dirt, her hips swaying with each graceful step. The ornate belt moved with them, guiding his eyes lower. “But I have found a more ample source of power than mere ambition.”
“Desire,” he suggested, already knowing what she was getting at.
“Precisely,” she said, baring her wicked teeth in another grin. “You live up to your title – he who knows.”
“All those times ... at dinner, in the bathroom – you weren’t just teasing me or amusing yourself. It was calculated.”
“Calculated,” she scoffed, giving him a pout. “You make seduction sound so clinical. I merely stoke a fire that already smolders in the hope that it will become a blaze. I am the Goddess of desire,” she added, gesturing to herself as though stating something painfully obvious. “You know this well. War and conquest were my domain, but so was longing. So was the burning, itching need that claws at the back of your mind when you yearn for another. Every time you gaze upon me and something within you stirs, you empower me. Your every lustful thought is a morsel upon my plate – a sacrifice.”
“Then, you’ve gained much more energy than you wanted me to believe. Why hide it? Are you planning to double-cross me?”
“I am a predator, Tlamatini, “ she replied as she reached the foot of his bed. She began to circle around it to his right, stalking like a beast, her burning gaze fixed on him with an unwavering stare. It made his hair stand on end, triggering some primal instinct that warned of hungry eyes just beyond the campfire’s reach. “That is all I can ever be – no more, and no less. I stalk in the shadows. I bide my time. Only when the killing blow is assured do I allow my quarry to know that I am there at all.”
“I’m not scared of you,” he insisted, and he meant it. Though he should be afraid, his tone was even, and he met her gaze without wavering.
“I know,” she purred, moving behind his headboard. He turned his head to follow her, keeping her in view. “After the first time I appeared before you, I have never felt fear from you again. I would have eaten that, too, if I believed I could stoke it. No, there is something about you that intrigues me, Tlamatini. You have wisdom, but you are also brave. You are patient, meticulous, and also kind. You are courteous and sincere, but you are not afraid to mock me. I have never encountered a mortal quite like you before.”
“I suppose you’re used to people dropping to their knees and bending to your every whim,” he replied as she moved around to the left side of his bed.
“Just so,” she confirmed with a nod that made her feathers bounce. “From the very moment that I awoke, I was a thing of reverence – something to be feared and coveted. I have never met a man who could refuse me. The faithful grovel at my feet in worship, killing and dying in my name, while those who are subject to my temptations crumble in my hands like chalk.”
“I’ve seen it in the dreams,” Charles confirmed. “I’ve ... felt what they felt.”
“I assumed that I could seduce you,” she continued, running a clawed finger along his sheets. “I thought that I could mold you in my hands like wet clay as I did so many others – that you’d come begging before long.”
“You gave me a taster in the hopes I’d want the real thing,” he said. “Yeah, I’m attracted to you,” he scoffed. “How can I not be? Look at you,” he added with a gesture to the smirking deity. “For all I know, you have no form at all, and you’re just a reflection of whatever features the deepest recesses of my psyche find the most appealing.”
“Flatterer,” she snickered. “Not so, but I am pleased that you would believe it. You speak the truth – you can hide nothing from me. The energy radiates whether you wish it or not, sweet and heady, and I am drawn to it in the same way a butterfly is drawn to a flower.”
“Or a jaguar to a deer, perhaps.”
“And now I find that I must come to you,” she grumbled, ignoring his comment. “The first knife – the envy of uncounted millions, cannot have what she wants. This ... vexes me.”
“The fact that I won’t worship you is driving you crazy,” Charles laughed.
She was on him in a flash, standing at the foot of his bed one moment, and pouncing like a jaguar the next. She knocked him onto his back, pinning him down, the considerable weight of her body making the mattress springs creak. This was no illusion – she was very much tangible. He felt the sharp points of her teeth brush his throat, her feline nose taking in his scent, a shudder rolling down her long spine as though just the smell of him was more than she could stand.
“I cannot force you to worship me,” she whispered, her warm breath washing over his neck. “That is not how magick works. The only energy I can take from you is what you give me. I’ve always ... I’ve never wanted something this much and been denied. Crazy – yes...”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he replied, striving to keep as still as possible as she gently grazed his jugular with her fangs.
“Tlamatini, ” she cooed, her husky voice strained and needy. “Would you not become my only priest? Does your kindness not extend to nourishing me?” She reached up to stroke his cheek, and he felt her fleshy pads through her satin fur, her sharp claws barely touching him. God, she smelled incredible, the aroma of her flowers masking something more alluring. “You wear the pendant,” she added, lifting the obsidian necklace from his chest. “You alone have performed the first rites and sacrifices in my name in five hundred years. Have you no terms to state? Would you have me beg?”
“That depends on what you actually want,” he replied, resisting the urge to flinch as she placed a gentle bite on his shoulder. She was practically vibrating with excitement, barely containing herself as she mouthed softly at his neck, as though unsure of whether to kiss him or devour him. “I’m not going to worship you as a God. I won’t dedicate my life to becoming a priest or starting cults for you.”
“I do not understand,” she growled, a hint of frustration entering her voice. “Your desire for me exudes from your every pore. You have honored me and lavished me with gifts. Why will you not devote yourself to me? You need only give in, and the resulting power will allow me to make your every desire a reality!”
Tez had spent her entire existence having all of the power in her relationships. From the moment she had become conscious, she had been coveted by mortals, her life-changing magick making all the difference in their dangerous and violent world. She had always been needed, always been able to dictate whatever terms she pleased, entire armies marching at her command. But now, the shoe was on the other foot. It was impossible for her to take something that was not freely given, and perhaps for the first time ever, she was beholden to someone else. Charles had no mortal enemies, no ambitions of empire, and modern conveniences meant that dying of exposure in a jungle was unlikely at best. Her powers might be useful, but nobody was going to storm his village and enslave him if he didn’t bow to her.
“I don’t need you,” he replied simply. Tez rose a little higher so that he could see her face, her expression a pained grimace. Perhaps she assumed that he was condemning her to disappear. “I have to want you.”
Her expression softened, and she tilted her head, her crown of feathers swaying.
“What?”
“I don’t need power or slaves or riches,” he began. “I’d like to not lose the house or my job, but that’s beside the point. I got along fine without any of those things before, and I’ll continue to get along without them. What if I just like having you around because you’re fun and interesting? What if I think you deserve to exist? What if having you in my life makes it more magical, if you’ll forgive the expression?”
“I do not understand,” she muttered, confused now. “You ... do not want anything from me?”
“A little scrying every now and then wouldn’t go awry,” he replied with a shrug. “A girl’s gotta eat, I get that, but I won’t grovel at your feet. If you want me to be your priest, I will be, but on my terms. I’ll do rituals for you because they’re fun, I’ll wear the amulet for you, and I’ll make sure you’re fed.”
“Y-you will?’ she stammered, seeming out of her element now. Gratitude might not be something she had ever needed to learn.
“I like you, and you’ll be in no danger of disappearing as long as I’m around,” he explained. “Now, are you hungry, or are you just going to keep staring at me?”
A flat, pink tongue extended to wet her dark lips as they peeled back in a grin, exposing her carnivore teeth. Hunger was merely metaphorical in this case, but she still radiated the energy of a wolf about to chow down on a nice juicy steak.
“Oh, I think I see what rituals you envision,” she purred, adjusting her position so that she was straddling him on the bed. “My little priest...”
Her feline face returned to his neck, more aggressive now that she had his permission, fur as soft as velvet brushing against his skin. He sucked in a sharp breath as she bit him, not quite applying enough pressure to break the skin, but wanting him to feel her strength. She chuckled at his reaction – a resonating purr that vibrated through his body, no doubt able to sense his desire growing stronger.
She followed with a lick, almost apologetic, a tongue that was far too large and tangibly warm leaving a smear of saliva across the pink indents on his throat. His lashes fluttered, his spine trying to arch off the mattress, but he resisted it. Tez had waited and planned for this, and he intended to give her much more than a fleeting snack.
“Finally,” she growled, cupping his face in her hand. It was large enough that her closed fist would have been close to the size of his head, her palm coated in fur as soft as a silk glove, warm and alive. She stroked him with her fleshy thumb pad, careful to keep that wicked claw clear, then planted a kiss on the opposite cheek. Her lips were smooth and soft, contrasting with the coolness of her feline nose as it pressed against him. “I finally get to take you...”
“It’s not like you broke me,” he complained, flinching as she crawled those pillowy lips to his ear and began to chew it softly. “I’m choosing to let this continue.”
“No more fretting, my little priest,” she whispered in his ear. She paused to nibble, the sordid sounds of her tongue filling his head as she licked. She was close enough to him that he could feel the weight of her breasts resting on his torso, the cold jewelry that adorned them contrasting with their enticing warmth. “Our pact is made. Give yourself to me, and let me show you why they named me the Goddess of fertility and desire.”
That flat, hot tongue dragged across his throat again, her teeth grazing his skin, every lick and kiss making him feel warmer. The jungle was no mere illusion – its heat permeated everything, leaving him soaked in sweat before she’d even touched him. He felt like he could have pursed his lips and taken a drink from the very air. The mist was creeping in, making it feel even more like a sauna, but maybe that was the point. She had been a patron deity of bathhouses, after all.
He dared to reach up and touch her, running his fingers through the soft fur of her face. It wasn’t unlike stroking a cat. Just like him, she was slick and wet to the touch. Whether it was from sweat or the humidity was just making her coat damp, he couldn’t tell. Either way, it was an oddly liberating feeling. If everything was already soaking wet, then what did it matter how messy things got?
“How I have longed to be touched,” she sighed, her golden eyes flickering for a moment as she batted them. “So long without a corporeal form – so many ages without senses. It amplifies everything a thousandfold.”
With an amorous growl, she brought her lips to his own, surprising him with a ravenous kiss. Her monstrous jaguar head was large enough that they were quite mismatched, but she found a way to make it work, Charles feeling that long tongue slide into his mouth. It was bestial – nothing like that of a human, but a shiver rolled through him all the same as he felt the warm muscle slide across his palate. He tried to meet her, but her embrace was like nothing he had ever experienced, what felt like a sheet of warm satin painting his inner cheeks with each doting lick. The wonderful aroma of her flowers filled his nose with each staggered breath as her tongue glanced the back of his throat, the way that he bucked making her tighten her grip, keeping him where she wanted him. It wasn’t merely her strength that was overwhelming, but her experience. He could feel it in every stroke – lifetimes spent learning exactly how to please mortal men and women leaving him seeing stars.
Tez knew exactly when to break it off, Charles gulping down a shaky breath as she drew away, snapping a thin strand of saliva that joined their lips with a lick.
“You cannot imagine what it is to taste once more,” she sighed, gazing down at his red face in satisfaction. “To hear the beating of your heart with my own ears, to feel the warmth of a body pressed close to mine, to taste salt licked from burning skin...”
As if to demonstrate, she dragged that long, wide tongue across his chest. It was like watching a lion lick the hide of a felled zebra in a nature documentary, but he felt no rough barbs.
“It’s not all that hard to imagine,” Charles grunted as she planted a kiss just above his pendant. “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have many lady callers visiting.”
“So absorbed in your scholarly duties,” she giggled – a sound that more resembled a rumbling purr coming from her. “It seems that we both have lost time to make up for.”
He lurched as she placed a clawed hand on his chest, her talons pricking him, and crawled higher. Her thighs were long enough that she could sandwich his entire torso between them, her knees rising almost to his armpits, soft flesh and fur encompassing him like the armrests of a chair. The silky fabric of her hanging loincloth dragged across his belly as she sat down on him, her weight sinking him deep into the old mattress, her fuzzy tail draping across his legs. She was a little higher than the erection that was already tenting his shorts, Charles feeling her ass brush against it.
“Long have you admired me,” she said with a gleeful chuff. She rolled her hips, making a show of getting comfortable, but it was really just a flimsy excuse to grind her butt against his shaft. He watched those chiseled abs flex beneath the thin layer of spotted fur that covered them, shifting shadows picking them out in the torchlight, the flames illuminating the droplets of moisture that trickled down her toned belly. She was inhumanly strong, her muscles like knotted steel cables, more defined than even the most self-indulgent Greek sculptor could have envisioned. Her belt hung tantalizingly low, its jewels glittering. “Every glance you have spared me and every errant thought is food. Do not hesitate now that I am yours to enjoy.”
Charles raised a hand, sliding it up her torso and feeling those powerful muscles tense in response. They were as smooth as stones polished by the flow of a river, her skin pulled taut over them as they flexed, bulging out to greet him. In contrast, her fur was delightfully smooth, the moisture that dampened it letting him glide higher. He brought his other hand to her thigh, finding the same velvet covering of spotted fur, the flesh that filled out her figure so generously making it as soft as a pillow. He took a handful, but that fat layer only yielded for the first couple of inches, dense muscle as hard as iron soon greeting him. How else could she show such incredible poise and control with that massive body? It felt like she could have slung a grown man over her shoulders and squatted him.
Tez was wonderfully reactive, shifting and purring at his every touch, reveling in the firing of nerves and synapses that had not existed mere hours ago. He winced when he felt her sharp claws prick his chest, but she was careful not to cut him, biting her lip with her pointed teeth as she shivered atop him. She leaned forward now, letting her unsupported bosom swing into his reach, her free hand pressing down on the sheets above his head.
“Go on,” she cooed, a twist of her shoulders making them bounce enticingly. Her necklaces moved with them, the heavy jewelry clattering.
Charles reached up a hand, captivated by the sight, but the gilded cups that she wore over them blocked his path. They resembled disks of hammered gold that clung to her breasts, thin strands of the decorative metal spiraling around them, just large enough to cover her areolas. As though sensing what he wanted, they began to melt, the gold turning into a bubbling liquid before his eyes and sloughing off. He lurched as it splashed on his chest, but he felt no heat, the substance boiling away as though it had never been there at all.
She was exposed now, the fur beneath the golden plates giving way to pink nipples, firm and prominent. He raised his hand and cupped her breast from below, feeling flesh as soft as putty swallow his fingers, spilling over his palm. How it could be so full and heavy, yet maintain such a flawless shape, he had no idea. Tez’s body was an idea made manifest – the concept of strength and fertility given form, so what did it matter what physics had to say about it? While her bust was modest on her slender frame, her stature meant that her breasts were easily as voluminous as his head, more of their weight pressing down on his hand as he lifted. She arched her spine when he squeezed, feeling that butter-soft fat bulge between his fingers, the much denser and more sensitive tissue that lurked deeper resisting him.
Tez let out a low growl of encouragement, placing her hand over the top of his, encouraging him to be more aggressive. Those powerful muscles in her core flexed as he kneaded, filling his hand with her velvet flesh, her firm nipple digging into his palm. He could feel her grinding her hips slowly, pushing her butt back against his shaft, her silky fur separated from his pulsing member by only a layer of thin fabric.
Tez arched her long spine as he brought his other hand into play, delving into her other breast, letting that plush fat engulf his fingers down to the knuckle. The tissue beneath was firm and rubbery, springing back to its former shape when he relented, far too pert for something so large and heavy. Between the thin coat of slick fur that covered them and the wobbling fat, he could scarcely keep his hands off them. Tez watched him all the while, drinking in his desire, chewing on her lip with her sharp teeth as his squeezing and probing made her shiver.
“Enough of that,” she finally grumbled, arousal getting the better of her.
Her clawed hands wrapped around his wrists, pulling them away from her chest and pinning them to the bed above his head, her long reach meaning that she didn’t have to lean down too close to him. She began to crawl higher, her hanging loincloth dragging up his torso, tickling him as she went. She sat down on his chest with a thud, her ample rear cushioning the blow, the bedsprings beneath him squealing their protests as her weight sank him deeper. Her hips were wider than his shoulders, so it was no problem for her to spread her legs, sandwiching him between her thighs.
From his perspective beneath her, he could see her long torso rising away from him, her grinning face staring down between her swaying breasts. To his left and right were two walls of muscle and fur, the delicate fabric of her loincloth tickling his chin, her fuzzy tail coiling across his belly like a snake. It was easy for her to encompass both of his wrists in a single large hand, and she brought the other to her stomach, slowly sliding it down over her taut muscles to guide his eyes. Her claws clicked against the turquoise stones that adorned her belt, the blue-green fabric of her loincloth rustling as she lifted it away. The garment had always been tantalizingly insubstantial, barely big enough to preserve her modesty, perhaps kept in place more by her will than anything. She went slowly, teasing him, his anticipation like a liquor to her.
She exposed a pair of puffy lips, the thin coat of fur already soaked and shining with her excitement, the firelight making the thin sliver of pink between them glisten. There were no spots here, nor were there many on her belly, her lighter counter shading drawing him in. It wasn’t accurate to say that she was hairless, but her coat was thin enough that it almost looked like skin when wet, a little blush showing through.
She sensed his surge of desire, taking in a deep breath, her eyes lidding. Easing her loins a little closer to him, Tez reached down with her free hand and used two fingers to spread herself open, exposing more delicate folds of pink flesh. Like the petals of a blooming rose, droplets of dew misted them, a strand of that clear fluid drooping to his chest.
Charles needed no instruction, Tez smiling in satisfaction as he drew closer, the fur of her inner thighs brushing against his burning cheeks. There was that floral scent again, an aroma like marigolds filling his lungs with each breath, guiding him in. He paused to plant a kiss on her thigh, feeling the steely muscle tense, strong enough to pop his head like a grape. The sensation of fur against his lips was a strange one, but her coat seemed thinnest where it was a lighter shade – coincidentally wherever a prospective lover might wish to embrace her. He followed up with a gentle bite, feeling her massive frame shift, an amusing little chuff escaping her.
“You have spirit,” she purred.
As he drew close enough to feel the palpable warmth that radiated from her nethers, mouthing affectionately at her thigh, he tasted something sweet. Where the fur was damp with her sticky juices, he found not the neutral flavor he had anticipated, but something more akin to nectar or honey. Was that where the flowery aroma was coming from? Another lick confirmed it, a pleased shiver passing through his partner.
“Your senses are mine to manipulate,” she cooed, noting his confusion. “Why should I not be the sweetest thing you have ever tasted if I wish it? Why should I not have you worship with all the fervor I am due?”
Still keeping his wrists tightly bound in one hand, she placed the other behind his head, guiding him closer. His lips met hers in a more sordid kind of embrace, the silky fur only adding to how plush and inviting they were, swollen with desire and feverish to the touch. He raked her vulva with his tongue, her hot flesh soaked in more of that syrupy fluid, as though he was licking nectar dripping from a twitching flower. It made his mouth water, and he pressed on, his desire imbued into every stroke and kiss.
With her sitting on his chest, he could look up over her furry mound and watch her beautiful body writhe and flex. Those bulging abdominal muscles were on full display, the firelight casting them into shadow, making the moisture that coated them gleam. Her hourglass hips shifted, torn between grinding against his face in a desperate bid for more stimulation and staying within his reach. Every subtle motion of her body made her perfect breasts bounce and quiver, each breath that she took reflected in her swaying bust. Her pained expression made his heart flutter, her feline brow wrinkled, and her teeth bared like a snarling lioness.
Just like the front of fear and power that she put up to intimidate, this illusion of being confident and in control was no different. She might have him pinned to the bed, practically sitting on his face, but the war Goddess danced on the end of his tongue as though every beat of her heart was tied to his rhythm. She arched her spine, her gritted teeth parting to let out faint sighs or to suck in sharp gasps, a body that would have made a gymnast envious twisting and bucking.
Charles had never been so enamored, losing himself in his task. He painted every satin fold as though his life depended on pleasing her, dipping his tongue into her winking opening, and feeling her swollen bud throb against his lips. He pursed them around it, polishing it with a flurry of licks, reveling in the way that her long spine arched.
Her grip on his head grew tighter, little growls accompanying her staggered breaths as she pulled him closer, practically pushing his face into her loins. He lapped dutifully, her wet fur tickling his nose, her sharp claws gently pricking his scalp. He realized that petals from her headdress were raining down on him, sticking to wet fur and sweaty skin, the colorful blossoms settling on the sheets.
“If you devoted yourself to faith as eagerly as you devote yourself to this, I would conquer the world in a week,” she hissed as she licked her lips greedily.
“Not gonna happen,” he chuckled, his voice muffled.
“I never gave you leave to stop!” she growled, sounding genuinely vexed. “I cannot decide what is sweeter,” she continued, her feline head hanging as he drew shapes with his tongue. “The taste of your surging desire flowing into me, pure and heady, or the exquisite agony of this newly-formed body. Perhaps my memories have dulled over the centuries, but this heat that rises within me, this ache – I do not remember it being so magnificently intense...”