Corruption of Salim
Copyright© 2026 by Andosius
Chapter 4: The Gods of her people
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Gods of her people - Wealthy artist buys an exotic slave girl who leads him to darker and darker things.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Slavery Heterosexual Fiction Historical BDSM MaleDom Sadistic Spanking Torture Gang Bang Black Female Anal Sex Oral Sex Needles
After the doctor went away, Salim left Horsetail to rest and went to the sauna to relax. On his return, the young artist was surprised to find his slave girl still awake.
The damn unguentss ssting sso much I can’t ssleep. - Horsetail explained, waving at her bandaged back, - You wanted to hear about the Godss. Now the moon iss high in the ssky, a good time to tell of them.
Horsetail told him about the gods of her people, Shub-nigurrath and Neshslaa. They were the true gods, whom priests of cities knew not, or forgot, or else worshiped in secret, while giving people false and unhearing idols to pray to.
Neshslaa the all-enjoyer was the god of careless joy and pleasure, hunting, raiding, and adventure. He was the male principle of the Khati pantheon and dwelt in the far realms beyond the stars. He helped with daring exploits and made pleasures even more delightful. Woes and pains he made endurable by revealing pleasure or satisfaction hidden within them. On Horsetail’s thigh, he was depicted as a horse-headed man with bat wings, a massive cock, and four arms – two of them ending in menacing pincers.
Shub-nigurrath was a bestial mother goddess, she who births all and copulates with all, the she-goat with a thousand youth, nature ever-renewed and ever-healing. If Neshslaa guided the faithful on adventures, Shub-nigurrath helped them to recover afterward. On Horsetail’s other thigh, she was pictured as a she-goat-headed woman with many breasts, elephantine legs, and clusters of snakes or tendrils for arms.
Come, masster, my masster, let uss thank the gods for helping you ssave me.
Horsetail instructed Salim to gather certain leaves and flowers from his garden. Then she made ceremonial wreaths of them, and they made libations of wine and honey. She taught him prayers and told a myth suitable to the occasion and painted his skin with signs of Neshslaa and herself with signs of Shub-nigurrath. He looked into her eyes and saw her transformed – focused, self-assured, a professional plying her craft. Not unlike himself when he painted.
Then they re-enacted the myth, a sacred drama of him-as-Neshslaa bringing her-as-Shub-nigurrath home, saved, and she, professing to have nothing to repay him with, thanking him by kissing his feet and giving herself to him. The ritual was enhancing, and Salim felt himself drawn in. He felt religious awe much stronger than he ever felt in the temples of Irem. Horsetail seemed invigorated as well, especially when she caught sight of his cock.
The slave girl – or perhaps Shub-nigurrath – knelt before him. She reverently took his cock and balls into her hands, hands now calloused by weeks of hard labor. He felt a jolt of energy, as if a current of mystic power flowed from her touch. He felt good, exalted, powerful. Not with the familiar power of master over a slave. It was something more profound, something permeating and changing his very being.
His mind was brought back to earth by an unpleasant sensation. Horsetail had taken his manhood into her mouth, but instead of warm, silky wetness, his sensitive member felt painfully grated by her dehydration-cracked lips and swollen tongue. He flinched and recoiled.
No, my ssavior, pleasse, the ritual... - she begged, crawling after him on her knees.
Salim was surprised by the panic in the voice of this normally indomitable woman. Was she afraid of a magical backlash if the ritual was interrupted? He had read about such things in stories about sorcerers. Still, there was no way he was having his dick sanded. He would bind the ritual in his own way. Her chaotic nomad gods – or daemons – would surely appreciate his inventive audacity, especially the trickster Neshslaa he was currently personifying.
Salim half-led, half-dragged distressed Horsetail to the kitchen and took a jar of sour cream. He gestured to his concubine to open her mouth.
Come, Shub-niggurath, your earth is desert-dry; I will irrigate it, - he intoned in a solemn voice and dumped a good wad of cream into her mouth.
She gulped it down reflexively. He gave her more sour cream. The white goo looked quite suggestive in her mouth. Aroused further, he pushed his cock into it. She squirmed at first, and he took her by the braid to hold her in place. Recovering her wits, Horsetail grasped the base of his cock with one hand and massaged his balls with the other.
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