Five Nights in Hell With Your God

by candycandy00

Summary:

AU Heian Era Gojo is worshipped as a god for his immense power, and he has disdain for the useless mortals around him. All except you, his childhood friend whom he is deeply in love with yet hasn’t spoken to in years. You’re also madly in love with him, so when you find out a sacrifice is needed for a ritual to increase his power before he fights Sukuna, you eagerly volunteer. You just didn’t realize the ritual is five nights of torment!

Notes:

Note: This first chapter is long to set up the plot, but the rest of the chapters will be much shorter. They will also be more intense/extreme as they go along! Keep that in mind! Taking a look at the tags can give you ideas of what to expect.

Comments and feedback are loved!

Chapter 1: Night of Deflowering

“He’s returned! Our god has come home!”

You look up from your work, your fingers pausing with needle in hand, the simple fabric in your lap slipping to the floor as your heart begins pounding.

Standing up, you walk out of your small dwelling to join the crowd of onlookers as the procession begins to enter the village. Lines of servants, priests, shrine maidens, and various other people walk by the cheering crowd.

In any other village, you would all be required to bow as the elevated platform carried by servants appears. Sitting on the platform, raised high above the crowd, is a god called Gojo Satoru. And the people of this village don’t bow because this is the village he was born in, the one he spent his childhood in, with you.

The two of you were inseparable until his power was discovered when he was twelve years old. Then he was whisked away by the elders of the vast Gojo clan who sit at the top of the sorcerers’ world. His power is so rare and so overwhelming that they declared him a god, and treat him as such.

He spends most of his time traveling around, destroying curses or evil sorcerers, but once or twice a year he returns to his home village. The elders think there is power in returning to your roots, so Gojo is brought back here to rest and restore his strength.

You always look forward to these visits. The two of you haven’t spoken since he was first taken away - what has a god to say to a common village girl? - but you still feel the same way you felt about him all those years ago. You’re in love with him, and you’ve carried that love deep in your heart for over a decade now.

As he passes by, he glances in your direction, and for a brief moment your eyes meet. Ah, his eyes are more beautiful each time you see them. The moment passes, and he looks away. Maybe he doesn’t recognize you as the girl he held hands and ran through the rice fields with. Or worse, maybe he doesn’t even remember those times at all.

With a sigh you return to your work. You’ve been sewing clothes for the villagers for years, and have become quite well known for your skills. Which is why you’re hardly surprised that evening when you’re summoned to Gojo’s shrine and ordered by a shrine maiden to make the dress for the sacrifice.

Ah, the sacrifice. It’s the one part of all this you can’t stomach. Whenever Gojo is about to go fight a particularly powerful enemy, the elders conduct a ritual. No one but Gojo and the elders know the specifics, except that a beautiful young woman is chosen, spends five nights with Gojo in one of his many shrines, and then dies at the end of it. Supposedly she is turned into a temporary deity herself, and her death energy empowers Gojo for his upcoming battle.

A sacrifice has never been chosen from your village though, so it’s not something you’ve ever worried about.

You stand in the holy shrine, looking around at the rich furnishings, golden vases filled with perfumed flowers, fire lamps hanging closely enough together to keep the whole place well lit. It’s quite breathtaking, and you realize you haven’t been inside this place in years.

As the shrine maiden is showing you a drawing of the design for the dress and explaining details, you suddenly hear Gojo’s voice coming from around the corner.

“I told you when all this started,” he’s saying, “not from this village!”

Another voice, older and more authoritative, says, “You’re going to fight Sukuna! The king of curses! We need you at maximum power, and only someone from your home village can provide that!”

They come into view behind you, and you look over your shoulder to get a glimpse of your beloved god.

“I don’t even need a sacrifice!” Gojo shouts at the elder beside him. “I’ve never needed one! I don’t-“ he suddenly stops when he sees you, his clear blue eyes widening slightly before looking back to the elder. When he begins talking again, his voice is so quiet you can’t make out the words.

You turn your attention back to the shrine maiden, and though you never look back at Gojo again, your skin tingles at the very thought that he’s so close, that he might even look at you.

After some muffled arguing between the two men, the elder suddenly yells, “If we don’t do the ritual, you’ll die! That’s how strong Sukuna is! We can’t afford to lose you.”

Die? Gojo? No, he’s far too powerful to be killed, right?

Pushing that disturbing thought from your mind, you take the design and materials home with you to make the sacrificial dress.

********

Gojo frowns as the servants work at the fastenings of his ceremonial robes. A mix of men and women tend to him, all of them dressed in clean, crisp robes of their own, all of them selected for service for their fine features and attentiveness. But to Gojo, they might as well all be insects.

He is a god after all, and his mood has soured. He was happy earlier to be back home after eight months away, but those fucking elders had to ruin his homecoming. The old bastards are insisting on a ritual Gojo doesn’t need or even want. What’s worse, they want to select the sacrifice from this village. His village. The people here were supposed to be off limits.

Gojo retires to his personal quarters, still fuming over the fact that the elders (useless as they may be) still have a degree of control over him. If they all agree on something, there’s little Gojo can do to avoid it, even though he’s their god. So the ritual will take place starting tomorrow night.

He sits down on the floor beside his extravagant futon and puts a hand to his chest. His heart is still racing from earlier.

He saw her twice today. Twice!

First he spotted her in the crowd as he came into the village. His eyes always seek her out, and today she was gazing right at him, looking as lovely as she ever has.

And then she came to the shrine this evening. Her, in his shrine!

She’s the woman he’s yearned for all this time, from the days they spent playing together in the Gojo estate, when he would sneak her in to have snacks with him. His feelings for her never wavered, even when he learned he was a god and far above the pitiful humans around him.

She’s special, even if she’s human, and he would love nothing more than to make her his wife. But that will never happen.

Gojo’s life is strictly controlled by the elders. They’ve already made clear that he will never take a wife. A god should not be tethered to a mortal, they say. At some point in the future, he will impregnate someone to keep his holy bloodline going, some powerful and influential woman worthy of his sacred seed.

Until then, he is expected to satisfy his physical desires with the sacrifices given to him. And he does, but he would much rather be with his childhood friend, the girl he spent half his life with, who still makes his heart beat rapidly in his chest when he simply catches sight of her.

Tonight in the shrine, she was so tantalizingly close! If he’d taken three, maybe four steps, she would have been within arm’s reach. Oh, to touch her! To feel her warm skin beneath his fingers!

He is a god, but he would descend into hell if it meant he could touch her.

But he can’t, and he won’t. She probably hates him now, if she even remembers him. He’s avoided her since they were children, and by now she’s probably married or at least has a lover. That’s probably for the best. Just knowing she’s alive and safe is enough for him now.

***********

You work late into the night on the “dress”, which you realize is not much of a dress at all. The fabric is so sheer that it makes you wonder what purpose it serves. It certainly wouldn’t conceal anything, and you can’t help thinking about the women who must have worn something like this before. How many women has Gojo seen in this completely see through dress? The thought makes your face feel hot.

The dress itself is no more than a beaded collar with two long, narrow strips of the sheer fabric, one in front and one in back. You only had to sew the pieces into the elaborate collar and attach the beading.

When you’ve finished with the garment, you stand back and look it over. You’re struck by the irrational urge to try it on, so you fully disrobe and pull the neck piece over your head. The silky fabric feels nice on your skin, but when you look at yourself in your mirror, your face burns with embarrassment.

As you suspected, it hides absolutely nothing. You can see your own breasts clearly, can see your firm nipples protruding through the dress. Lowering your eyes, you see the small mound of soft pubic hair between your thighs. Seeing yourself like this excites you, and your mind wanders. What would Gojo think if he saw you like this? How would you feel if those glorious blue eyes were roaming over your exposed body?

Ahh! Just thinking about it is too embarrassing! You carefully remove the garment and hang it by your door. It’s due back at the shrine in the morning.

While dressing for sleep, you remember what the elder said, about Gojo dying if he doesn’t do the ritual. How could that be possible? Gojo has always defeated every threat. Could this Sukuna really be that terrible?

When you fall asleep, you have terrible nightmares of Gojo being killed by some shadowy monster. Over and over. And then you see the elders standing over his body, saying, “You should have done the ritual!
It could have saved you!”

You awake covered in sweat, your head pounding. A terrible fear clings to you like a wet robe. You have a feeling Gojo really will die if the ritual isn’t a success.

And you can’t let that happen. You know what you have to do.

Early the next morning, you return to the shrine to give them the dress. After the shrine maiden takes it, you gather your courage and ask, “How does one volunteer to be the sacrifice for the ritual?”

The shrine maiden looks at you curiously. “Do you wish to volunteer?”

You swallow the knot in your throat. “Yes, I do.”

She hesitates, staring at you for a moment before saying, “Follow me.”

The shrine maiden leads you further inside, down a side hall and to a door. She stops outside it and clears her throat. “We have a volunteer,” she calls.

You hear a familiar elderly voice say, “Bring them in.”

The woman slides the door open and bows her head, gesturing for you to go inside. You step into the room and find the six elders of sorcerer society sitting in a circle, each on a silk cushion. They all stare at you as you lower yourself to a polite position on your knees.

The one who spoke, who is also the elder you saw talking to Gojo the evening before, narrows his eyes at you. “Why do you wish to volunteer?”

“I heard he will be facing a powerful enemy. I just want to do everything I can to help,” you say.

Another elder gives you a withering glare. “And why should we choose you for such an important ritual?”

You look straight at him. “Because I’ve loved him since we were children, and no one wants him to succeed more than I do.”

The elder scoffs. “Love? Bah! What good is a mortal’s love to a god?”

The first elder, the one you saw the night before, looks over to the man who just spoke. “Wait. It’s true that love has no place in our god’s world, but intention is a very powerful thing in sorcery. This young lady clearly wants to help him more than anything. That pure desire to give him power might strengthen the ritual.”

A third elder taps his cane on the floor. “We will question her to determine her suitability.”

For the next half hour, they ask you extremely personal questions and nod grimly to each other after hearing your answers. Apparently you make a suitable sacrifice.

Once they approve you, they call for shrine maidens to come and begin preparing you. Since you have no living relatives, there’s no one to say goodbye to, so the maidens immediately begin the process of readying you for tonight.

You’re fed a luxurious dinner, then you are taken to the shrine’s large bathing area to be cleaned and purified in the heavily perfumed water. All hair below your neck is shaved off, leaving your body completely bare. And when they put the sacrificial dress you made over your head and fix it on your neck, you look in the nearby full length mirror to see yourself in it for the second time.

Now, with no pubic hair to cover you, the image is even more lewd and embarrassing. But there’s no turning back now. In a short while, Gojo is going to see you. All of you.

The shrine maidens place a robe over you and tie it at the front, explaining that you will wear the robe until the ritual begins.

Your nerves are on fire as they place a silky veil over your head, partially obscuring your face, and lead you into a large room with a square raised platform at the back. They take you to a spot right in front of the platform and tell you to kneel on the floor, keeping your head down.

“Master Gojo will be in soon, and he will explain the details of the ritual to you,” one of the shrine maidens says. “We leave you now, so that only you and your god will be in the shrine for the next five nights. This is to heighten the bond of power between you and make the ritual more intimate.”

Intimate? The word floats around in your brain as the women leave. You’re not naive. You’ve always assumed Gojo lies with the sacrifice during the ritual, and the thought has always plagued you. Of course you understand he’ll most likely bed you at some point. The sensuality of the “dress” certainly suggests that. But you still feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the thought of him even kissing you.

Goodness! You feel the same way you did as a teenager when you caught glimpses of him moving through the village!

You hear the sound of a door sliding open, and you keep your head bowed as your heart threatens to burst. He’s here! He’s in the same room with you! So many questions race through your mind. Does he know you’re the sacrifice? How does he feel about that? If he hasn’t been told, will he be surprised? Or will he even notice that you’re his childhood friend?

Perhaps such considerations are beneath a god. Maybe he’ll complete the ritual in a cold and systematic way. You’ve prepared your heart for that possibility.

You listen as his footsteps carry him to the platform and he sits down on the silk cushion. There are several moments of silence that feel like eternity as you wait for him to speak.

“The Gojo clan thanks you for your devotion,” he says, his voice sounding dull and even somewhat annoyed, as if he’s reading from a script. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain, but will help protect our people and secure peace for future generations. Now look up, show your face, so that you might be honored.”

You exhale a shaky breath, then raise your head, pulling back the veil at the same time. You look at Gojo, and he looks at you. His eyes widen, staring at you with such intensity that you look at the floor to avoid them.

“I don’t know if you remember me, my lord, but you and I played together as children,” you say with a nervous voice, still keeping your eyes on the floor. “I volunteered because… you have always been very dear to me. So dear that I am happy to be sacrificed to ensure your victory in the coming battle.”

He doesn’t reply, so you lift your eyes again to see his reaction. His face is twisted in horror, as if you’re some terrifying creature that emerged from the darkness. His fists are clenched at his sides, and you can feel his energy crackling around the room. He seems positively furious.

“You!” he yells, pointing at you angrily. “Get out of my sight this instant! I won’t accept you as the sacrifice!”

You draw back, feeling like you’ve been slapped. Your eyes tear up at the sting of his words. “But why?” you ask, your lips quivering.

***********

Gojo has never been more horrified in his life. This can’t be happening. The woman he loves more than life itself, the woman he’s always longed for but can’t even touch, is on her knees before him, ready to be sacrificed.

Her, dying for him? He won’t allow it! Then there’s the ritual itself, and all it entails. The thought of doing such disgusting and depraved things to her makes him feel sick.

He looks at the robe wrapped loosely around her, knowing exactly what she’s wearing underneath it. Some deep, primal part of him desperately wants to tear that robe off, to see everything she has, to start the perverse ritual right now and turn her precious, beloved body into his personal plaything.

His mind flashes back to previous rituals, and he can’t stop himself from imagining her in place of the dull, insignificant women who were sacrificed before. Her tied up, spread open, helpless, weeping and pleading as he…

No! He can’t do such brutal things to her. His feelings for her run so much deeper than base sexual desire. To touch her in such vile ways is unthinkable!

She’s staring up at him with wet eyes, looking hurt. From her perspective, this must feel like a rejection. She said he’s always been dear to her. Does that mean she has feelings for him too?

Oh fuck. This is turning into a huge mess. Still, it would be better to break her heart, make her think he hates her, than to subject her to the ritual.

“I don’t want you!” he yells, stomping over to the door to call for the shrine maidens. Two of them rush in, looking bewildered. They’ve never seen Gojo angry and yelling before.

He points at the sacrifice and shouts, “Take her away! She’s not suitable!”

The maidens look at each other, then at the poor, crying young woman still kneeling on the floor. “My lord, I assure you, she has been thoroughly questioned by the elders and deemed worthy,” one of them says.

“I don’t care!” Gojo roars, startling the maidens who shrink back away from him. “Get her out of here right fucking now!”

“Why?”

Gojo freezes when he hears the sweet, cherished voice, so weak and so sad. He turns to find her standing behind him, her hands clutching the edges of the robe, her beautiful face stained with tears.

He feels like a knife has been plunged into his heart. He gives the shrine maidens a look, and one of them says, “We’ll fetch the elders,” before they both scurry out of the shrine.

“Am I so repulsive to you?” she asks once the two of them are alone again.

He can’t take this anymore. “No! Never! But you don’t understand what this ritual is. It’s five nights of torment! The whole thing is designed to completely break your body and mind, to make you a pure vessel of energy. The elders believe that when a person experiences the ultimate pleasure and the ultimate pain, they reach a transcendent state. I’m supposed to spend these five nights bringing you to that state! You have no idea how depraved it is!”

She looks shocked, her eyes wide and her lovely mouth falling open. “You mean… you have to torture me for five nights?”

“Yes! Among other things. And I can’t do it, not to you.”

She looks down, then back to his face. “Why not to me?”

He looks away from her. “Because we have a history together. We’re friends, right?” He can’t tell her he loves her. Doing so would only encourage her to stay.

“I can do it,” she says, surprising him into meeting her gaze. “I can endure it, whatever you must do to me.”

He’s momentarily speechless, trying to think of some way to stop this. “Wait, you have to be a virgin to be the sacrifice. I’m sure you’ve had a lover by now.”

She looks a little shy as she says, “I am a virgin. I couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching me. Not when my heart belongs to you.”

He feels his heart skip a beat. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

She takes one step closer. “Not only my heart. Now, my body belongs to you as well. You are my beloved god. Everything I am, is yours to do with as you please. Use me, hurt me, do whatever is needed to make the ritual succeed.”

Gojo stares at her in disbelief. Does she truly feel so strongly about him? Her devotion is so pure, it makes chills run down his spine. He didn’t think it possible to love her more than he already did, but his heart is swelling. Actually, something else is swelling too. One side of her robe has slipped down slightly, showing part of the collar of her sacrificial dress. It’s another reminder of what she’s wearing, and how badly he wants to see it.

The door suddenly opens, and a group of elders file in, all wearing stern faces. “What is going on?” one of them asks. “The shrine maidens say you’re refusing the sacrifice.”

Gojo approaches the old man. “Did you know?” he demands. “Did you know she was my friend?”

The old man glances at her. “We know she’s the perfect sacrifice for this battle. She volunteered. She chose to do this, because she wants you to win.”

Gojo grits his teeth. “Find someone else. Anyone else.”

“It’s too late now,” another elder says. “She’s already been purified and prepared for you. The ritual is already under way. There’s no stopping it.”

“There is if I refuse to do it,” Gojo says sharply. “You can’t control me. You all need my power.”

A third elder speaks up then. “True, we do need your power, but so does she. You can give her the noble, meaningful death she wants, or we can give her a far worse one.”

Gojo feels his blood boiling. How dare they threaten her! Her, the only mortal on this miserable planet who deserves to even be in his presence! He feels confident that he can protect her, but fighting the elders now, in the middle of the village, would only bring her sorrow. His only option is to go through with the ritual for now. He knows these old perverts use their sorcery to spy on him.

But he won’t kill her, no matter what happens. He’ll pretend to, then hide her away until after he defeats Sukuna. At that point, there will be no reason to kill her.

He looks back at her, and wonders if he’ll be able to stomach putting her through the ordeals.

He’ll have to. Her life depends on it now.

***********

You wait, barely breathing, as Gojo talks to the elders. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but they keep looking at you. Will they make you leave? You hope not.

At first you were terrified that Gojo hates you now, but after hearing his explanation, your heart is fluttering to think he still thinks of you as a friend and only wanted you to be spared.

You hope he understands that you only want to help him in whatever way you can. You would walk through hell itself if it meant preventing him from being killed. That a worthless mortal like you could help your god in any way is truly an honor.

The elders finally begin walking out, evidently coming to an agreement of some kind. Once the door is closed again, Gojo returns to the square platform. You immediately kneel and wait to hear his decision.

“I’ve decided to accept you as the sacrifice,” he says, his voice sounding unusually awkward.

You glance up at him, tears in your eyes again. “Oh, thank you, my lord!”

His eyes are locked on yours for a moment, then he coughs and averts his gaze. “I’ll go over the rules of the ritual. You must follow them at all times. Failure to do so would compromise the ritual. Do you understand?”

You nod fervently. “Yes, my lord!”

“First,” he says, looking down at you with those heavenly eyes, “You must obey every command I give you, with no hesitation. Even if I tell you do something that brings you shame or pain.”

You nod again.

“Second, aside from special potions used to enhance the ritual, you are not allowed to consume anything other than water and… my seed.”

Your breath catches when you hear that, your face heating up. You nod.

“In fact,” he goes on, “your goal during these five days and nights will be to take as much of my divine seed into your body as possible. Do you understand?”

Your eyes are trapped in his, your face burning and your body feeling hot under the robe. “Yes, my lord. I will be honored to accept it.”

Unless you’re imagining things, Gojo’s own face takes on a pink tint that quickly fades. “Ah, right. The third rule… you are not allowed to wear anything other than the sacrificial dress, if you wear anything at all.”

You nod once more, already anticipating that rule.

Gojo reaches into the sleeve of his robe and pulls out a small vial of liquid. He steps just barely close enough to hand it to you. “Drink,” he says.

You don’t even ask what it is. You open it and lift the bottle to your lips, emptying it into your mouth.

Gojo seems pleased with your obedience. A smile passes over his face as he explains what you just drank. “That’s a potion you’ll take every night. It makes your entire body extremely sensitive, to both pleasure and pain. Every little sensation will be magnified greatly.”

You swallow the last of it and look down at yourself, trying to judge whether or not it’s working.

He grins, amused. “It takes a few minutes to work. In the meantime, I’ll explain the overall structure of the ritual. Every night you will endure an ordeal. They will increase in intensity each night. They’re all designed to bring you to the peak of both ecstasy and agony. You’ll probably regret your decision to volunteer, but I can’t stop or go easy on you, even if you beg or cry.”

You stare up at him. “I won’t regret it. I told you, my body belongs to you now. You can do whatever you want to it.”

Just as you finish the sentence, you start to feel it. Your skin tingles. The silky sheer fabric of the dress rubs over your nipples, making them instantly harden. Your pussy, newly bare from being shaved, feels hyper sensitive. It feels like your sense of touch is being assaulted, and it almost takes your breath away. If Gojo touches you now… will your body be able to withstand it?

“Looks like the potion is taking effect,” he says, then he steps to the edge of the platform, looming over you, and says, “Stand up, and remove your robe. You won’t be needing it from now on.”

You get to your feet and reach for the sash around your waist, holding the loose fitting robe on. Once you remove it, you’ll be completely exposed to his godly eyes. Your hands tremble as you untie it, your heart beating rapidly. You must not hesitate! You must obey immediately! Despite knowing this, you still pause for a brief moment before opening the robe and letting it slip from your shoulders, pooling on the floor.

Your entire body flushes with embarrassment as you look at the floor shyly. The dress’s sheer panel in front is so narrow that the outer sides of your breasts are uncovered. But the fabric is totally useless for covering anything. You might as well be naked.

When you finally get the courage to look up at Gojo, you find him staring at your body with hungry, blazing eyes. Without taking his eyes off your form, he removes his ceremonial robes and lets them fall to the floor, leaving only a single, thin white summer robe. It’s loose on him, open to the waist, displaying the most finely sculpted torso you’ve ever laid eyes on. Of course a god would be beautiful beyond human measure.

He steps down off the platform and over to you, stopping inches away. You’ve never been so close to him before, not since you were children. The closeness makes you dizzy, your breaths coming quicker. He looks like he wants to touch you, but he refrains, instead saying, “Get back on your knees, and show me your devotion.”

***********

Gojo struggles to keep his breathing steady as he looks at her. Every lovely inch of her is on display for him through the “dress”. She’s more beautiful than even his most perverse fantasies could ever dream up, and his hands ache to touch her, to pull her trembling body into his arms.

But he mustn’t. If he holds her now, he might lose his resolve to do what has to be done. So instead he tells her to get back on her knees. She doesn’t hesitate at all. She’s perfectly obedient, eager to please him in all ways. This side of her excites him, naturally, but after the ritual is over he hopes she returns to being the strong willed girl he knows her to be.

Though he can’t think of any stronger display of will than volunteering to be tormented and killed for the one you love.

He unties his sash and opens his robe, allowing her to see his fully erect manhood. A small sound escapes her, like a gasp, as her eyes take in the view. A flash of fear alights her face for a moment, but she keeps her composure.

Of course she would be frightened. Gojo’s divine cock far surpasses any human man’s by every metric.

She quickly overcomes her fear, scooting closer and wincing a bit, probably because the potion she drank would make even the floor scraping her knees painful. She lifts one delicate hand up and gently takes hold of his cock. She seems in awe of it now, leaning forward to kiss the tip, then begin licking it reverently.

Gojo is breathing faster as she finally takes him into her warm, wet mouth, her soft lips closing around the shaft while her slippery tongue moves to coat him in saliva. His heart is pounding as he watches her, his mind still reeling from the fact that his cock is in her mouth. Her treasured, beloved mouth.

He’s not even halfway in, and he has to resist the violent urge to shove himself down her sweet little throat. He tries to keep himself under perfect control, reminding himself that he’ll be in her mouth over and over again during these five nights. After all, he has to feed her his cum.

She’s moving her head back and forth, instinct apparently taking over. This is clearly the first time she’s pleasured a man, but she’s doing surprisingly good. Perhaps it’s the worshipful way she treats his cock, like it’s her god as well.

Fuck, he can’t resist any longer! His hand moves to her head, the first time he’s touched her in over a decade, and her eyes lift up to his face in surprise. Perhaps she’s been waiting for his touch all these years as well. While maintaining eye contact, he pushes her head down slowly, making her take more of him. He can feel himself entering her throat, can feel her gag reflex activating, but she doesn’t struggle or try to pull away. She keeps looking up at him with eyes that say, “Do as you please. My mouth belongs to you.”

Ahh, she’s so lovely! The potion must be making her throat feel like it’s on fire as he begins fucking into it, but aside from a brief glimpse of pain in her eyes, she keeps looking at him adoringly, gratefully.

He can’t last long like this. He’s dreamed of having her lips around him for too many years. His grip on her hair tightens slightly, provoking a tiny pained cry around his cock. “I’m close,” he tells her, fighting to keep his voice steady and firm. “Swallow all of it. You mustn’t spill a single drop of my sacred cum.”

She can’t nod or answer, but she blinks twice, probably her way of acknowledging his command. When the time comes, he pulls out partially. He doesn’t want to cum straight down her throat and deny her the chance to savor the taste of his divine seed. “You’re doing so good,” he tells her. “Here’s your reward!”

He shoots his load, hot and thick, into her mouth, blessing her for her devotion and love. Then he pulls out and watches her purse her pretty lips, working to keep from spilling any. She swallows twice, and still a few drops spill over her bottom lip. She uses her fingers to catch it, then licks them clean as if they were covered in honey.

Her eyes find his again, and she smiles so radiantly that he thinks he’ll go blind. “Thank you so much for honoring my lowly mouth with your holy seed, my lord!”

His breath catches, his face reddens despite all efforts to keep his emotions under control. After all this is over, he’s taking her as his wife. Fuck the elders! Fuck any plans to have him impregnate anyone else! The woman before him is the only mortal who will ever be worthy to carry his offspring!

And oh… the thought of her pregnant with his child, of her belly swollen, her breasts full with milk…

He’s already hard again.

“Come. We’ll continue in the bedroom,” he says, turning and beginning to walk away.

Behind him, she hurries to her feet and follows after him.

*************

“Do you want to know what tonight’s ordeal is?” Gojo asks without looking back at you.

Your feet are so sensitive that even walking over the shrine’s floor feels like walking on gravel. Your whole body feels everything so acutely! Gojo’s touch, which you’ve craved for so long, felt so wonderful at first, but turned agonizing when he gripped your hair. You feel raw from head to toe, as if you’ve been skinned.

“Yes, my lord,” you answer him, your voice weak through your sore throat.

As the two of you walk into his private room, you spot the large futon laid out, and your nerves begin to flare up.

Gojo turns to look at you, his eyes gleaming. “The first ordeal is called the Night of Deflowering. I’m sure you understand what that means.”

You nod, glancing at the futon apprehensively. You’re equal parts excited to lose your virginity to the god you love above all else, and frightened because your body is so sensitive, and you know what this ritual is.

His face softens slightly. “I can’t be gentle with you, even if I want to. I have to give you pleasure and pain, and this is meant to be an ordeal.”

You know what he’s saying. He has to hurt you, for the sake of the ritual. “I can endure anything if it means you will win your battle,” you tell him. “Don’t try to hold back. I don’t want to risk the success of the ritual.”

“Then lie down,” he tells you, and you obey.

You lie on your back on the futon, and he kneels down beside you after dropping his open robe to the floor. “Raise your arms above your head,” he commands. You do so, noticing that he’s holding the silk sash from his robe in his hand. He uses it to tie your wrists together, then tethers it to a spike that’s been hammered into the floor just above the head of the futon.

“This is to anchor you,” he says, his voice kind and his eyes warm as he gazes down at you. “Your body might reflexively struggle.”

You give a little pull, curious as to how tightly you’re bound. Your arms are firmly held above your head, the silk on your wrists making your sensitive skin tingle.

Gojo steps away for a moment, then returns with a small jar. He kneels on the futon, his hands pushing your legs apart. Only the sheer fabric stands between your bare pussy and the cool air of the shrine. His fingers feel feather light as they brush the front panel of the dress aside, fully exposing you. Feeling the silky fabric glide over your most delicate skin sends a shiver down your spine.

You again feel heat flood your body as Gojo’s crystal blue eyes settle on your naked sex, staring with an intensity that magnifies your embarrassment. There’s a ravenous look on his face, and you get the impression that he’d devour you whole if he could. Instead, he opens the small jar.

“This is a topical version of the potion you drank,” he says. “It allows me to pinpoint certain parts of your body to make far more sensitive than they already are.”

You feel a sense of panic. Even more sensitive? Your whole body already feels like its nerves are exposed! He must notice your reaction, because he blesses you with a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m here with you.”

With that, he reaches his fingers into the jar and dips out some of the ointment, then uses those same fingers to touch your soft folds. He rubs the ointment over the tender flesh, and you feel the effects immediately. His holy fingers feel so good, your pussy becomes dripping wet in a matter of seconds. But the more he rubs, the more sensitive and raw you feel, to the point that even his gentle touch begins to hurt.

He pauses, collects more ointment on his fingers, and uses his free hand to spread your pussy open. Then his ointment covered fingers touch your quivering clit. Just that one little touch is enough to make you moan loudly, your back arching up off the futon.

As he rubs the ointment in, the white hot pleasure erupts, making you cum suddenly and squirt clear fluid all over Gojo’s hand. You look down, shame clear on your face. “Ah! Forgive me, my lord!”

A grin spreads over his face, no longer warm and kind but tinged with something almost frightening. His fingers go back to rubbing your clit, more of the ointment seeping in, making all the sensations that much more intense. The pleasure becomes pain, the sensations overlapping each other as another orgasm wracks your body. Your hips nearly buck off the futon as you cry out, your arms pulling at your bonds, more fluid spraying from you.

And still he keeps rubbing. You’re hit with three more orgasms in quick succession, each one leaving you more sensitive and overstimulated than the last. Your body is shaking, convulsing, as he continues what is rapidly becoming unbearable torture. Tears are pouring down your face as you look up at him. Pain has almost completely replaced pleasure at this point, as your clit has become so hypersensitive that every touch burns like fire.

“Please, my lord,” you cry out, “I… I don’t think I can take much more! It hurts!”

Suddenly his fingers press together, pinching your poor clit and making a jolt of agony shoot through you. A scream rips from your throat.

“Endure it,” he says, his voice breathy and his eyes wild. “Endure it for my sake. You said you could do it. Don’t disappoint me now.”

You nod through your sobs. “I will! I’ll endure anything for you! I belong to you, so inflict whatever you wish on this unworthy body!”

His eyes seem to flash with an eerie glow as his grin widens. “That’s right. You’re mine. This body belongs to me. This cute little clit belongs to me, so I can do anything I want to it, right?” he asks as he pinches it again, harder, tearing another sob from your mouth. Under the effects of the potion and the ointment, it feels as if your clit is being crushed between two stones.

“Yes!” you finally answer. “Yes, my god! You can… ahhhhh… do anything to me!”

His fingers release you, going back to their rubbing motions, the stark relief of pain and rush of pleasure making you cum again, your body straining on the futon. “My lord! My god!” you cry out, your eyes sliding shut.

Then you hear his voice close to your ear, almost a whisper, “There was a time when you called me Satoru.”

Your eyes snap open. “I wouldn’t dare! Such disrespect…”

He leans closer, his face so close, he could kiss you. Oh, how you wish he would! But he halts just before his mouth reaches yours and says, “My name on your lips would sound so much sweeter to me than a thousand reverent prayers.”

Your body shivers upon hearing such words, but you can’t bring yourself to say his name. You’re not allowed to!

He draws back to his knees and pulls your body into his lap, your legs spread widely and hanging on either side of him. You can feel the heavy weight of his enormous cock resting on your drenched pussy.

He looks you in the eyes. “I’m commanding you… call out my name when I fuck your virgin pussy!”

You barely have time to gasp before he suddenly shoves in, tearing through you, immediately crashing against your cervix. The potion affects all, even your insides, so the pain is blinding, unimaginable, cloying. You scream, your arms reflexively struggling against the sash. It feels like you’ve been ripped in two.

But this is your ordeal. You promised him you would endure anything for him, and you will!

You look up at him, your face wet with spilled tears. “S-Satoru,” you say, your voice shaky and broken from screaming. “I love you!”

He begins thrusting into you, battering your cervix each time, tearing you further and further open. “Your god’s cock is inside you,” he says, his own breathing becoming fast and erratic. “What should you say?”

“Thank you… Satoru!” you cry between sobs. “Thank you so… much! My mortal body is… undeserving… of such a gift!”

His hands are gripping your hips, his fingers bruising, all amplified a hundredfold by the potion. He slams in particularly hard, knocking the breath out of you for a moment.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, his eyes watching the wild emotions on your face.

You sob again. “Yes… so much!”

“Good,” he says, in a sultry voice, “The ritual demands it. But it also demands you feel pleasure.” With those words, he slips one hand down and his fingers find your clit again, rubbing so gently that you cum again within seconds, your abused pussy clenching down on him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight! Such a perfect little sacrifice!” he says, his eyes looking crazed again. He keeps fucking you, harder and harder, making the pain excruciating. At the same time, his fingers make you cum over and over, the pleasure making your mind go blank. Your eyes roll back as he presses in even further, and suddenly releases his seed with a grunt.

It feels like he’s filled up your very womb.

He slowly pulls out, and you can feel something leaking out of you. Blood and cum, staining the futon.

“It will be like this from now on,” he says as he unties your wrists, his voice softer now. “You’ll take the potion every day, and I’ll apply the ointment every few hours. You’ll feel all of this all the time, and much worse. The other ordeals are far harsher.”

You bring your sore arms down, crying at the pain.

He stares down at you broken form, watching you pant. His eyes turn so gentle, and his hands reach out to you, but stop short of touching you.

“Rest for a moment, then I’ll take you again.”

You look up with panicked eyes, but wrestle your emotions under control and say, “It is an honor… Satoru.”

Chapter 2: Night of Ropes

You don’t remember when you fell asleep. You think you might have blacked out after Gojo fucked you for the third time in a row. By that point you were a babbling, crying mess who barely knew where she was. It felt like your body was broken over and over again, and when you wake up on Gojo’s futon, you nearly scream from the ache that covers you from head to toe.

After a few moments of deep breathing, the pain seems to subside enough to be bearable, enough for you to look around and get your bearings.

There’s a silk blanket covering you and a pillow under your head, things that were definitely not there before. You lift the blanket and look down. You’re still wearing the sacrificial dress, but the linens have been changed on the futon and you’ve been cleaned of all the blood and cum that was caked on your body.

It dawns on you that the shrine maidens left. Gojo is the only one who could have done this. Your heart flutters when you think of your god doing such menial tasks for your comfort.

Some of the things he said, and the ways he looked at you, the night before are still racing through your mind. It almost sounded like he cared for you as more than just a friend.

But no, that’s impossible. A deity doesn’t fall in love with a human. You should count yourself extremely blessed that he still has some lingering affection for you due to your shared childhood.

You get to your feet and walk out of the room, wincing slightly at the ache that still clings to your muscles. Most of the sensitivity from the potion has worn off, though your skin still feels a little more sensitive than usual.

When you reach the main room, Gojo is lounging on the platform, on a cushion, looking bored. It’s a rare moment for you to see him completely alone, not knowing anyone is watching him. He yawns, just like a human would, and lazily scratches his chest through his partially opened robe. He’s laying on his side, his head propped up by his elbow.

Your mind flashes back to warm summer evenings when the two of you would fall asleep beside each other on the dirty floor of your small house. Back then, he was just Satoru, just a boy who was constantly with you, a boy you loved dearly even before you truly understood what love meant.

He was your whole world back then, and you still remember how much it hurt when he was taken away. It felt like a vital part of yourself had been cut out.

But now he’s back in your life, for the few days you have left. You’ll make the most of them.

His eyes open suddenly as you approach, and he sits up quickly, taking a more dignified pose. “You’re awake,” he says, a subtle smile on his lips.

You dip your head in a small bow. “Forgive me for sleeping so late, my lord.” You hate that you’ve wasted any time at all. You’re supposed to be taking as much of his seed into your body as possible, especially when you’re not occupied with the nightly ordeals.

Though… you’re not sure how to initiate such things. In many ways you’re still the shy girl who loved him from afar.

Luckily, he doesn’t wait for you to ask. He opens his legs, letting his robe fall open, and says, “Ready for breakfast?”

Between his thighs, his cock is hanging, not hard yet but still much bigger than any normal man’s. It looks delicious.

“Yes, my lord!” you say, hurrying forward and dropping to the floor. You lower your head almost to the floor to reach the tip, licking it as your hand gently lifts the heavy organ. The way you’re bent, with your back curved, your ass is raised up, covered only by the sheer fabric. When you look up at Gojo’s face, you find his eyes locked onto your backside as his cock becomes hard in your hand.

You suck him off right there on the floor, one of his hands resting softly on your hair as he looks down at you, a pleased expression on his face. Oh, how wonderful it is to have the revered cock of the god you worship and love in your mouth!

When he cums, you catch it all in your mouth, swirling it around, enjoying the thickness and the flavor before eventually swallowing every drop. When finished, you beam up at him. “Thank you so much for the nourishment, my lord!”

Is that a blush creeping across his pale features? Surely not. He looks at you intensely, and you’re again struck by the feeling that he wants to touch you. Not the way he touched you last night, only allowing contact where necessary to complete the ordeal, but in a softer way.

You wish he would, but that’s a silly girlish dream, a fantasy.

“I can give you more,” he says, patting his thighs. “Come, and take more of my seed.”

********

Gojo thinks he literally stopped breathing for a few seconds when she crawled over to him, shyly held up the sheer front panel of the dress, and slowly sank down on his cock.

Now she’s moving up and down carefully, her face a lovely mix of pain and excitement. She’s no doubt still sore from last night. The ordeal demanded he be rough with her, but during the day there is no ordeal. He can make love to her gently, as he always wanted. Letting her control the speed and depth seemed like a good way to avoid hurting her further.

At least until tonight.

She feels so good around him that he thinks he could die right now and have no regrets. So soft and warm and gooey. Despite how much he tore and stretched her last night, she’s still unbelievably tight. Ah, the female body is a miraculous thing. It even regains its shape after childbirth!

He looks at her face, so adoring, so sweet, and her body, so erotic as she slides up and down him, her perfect breasts right in front of him, not hidden at all by the dress. Her nipples are hard, sticking out, begging to be pinched and licked… but he won’t.

His hands remain stiffly at his sides even as his desire to touch her burns like an uncontrolled flame. He will only touch her during the ordeals, and only as much as it is required. If he touches her purely out of love, things will quickly spiral out of control, and he’ll lose the resolve to finish the ritual. When that happens, the elders will try to kill her.

So for now, Gojo remains like a statue, hard as stone, afraid that if he loses his grip on his emotions, they’ll all come spilling out. That can wait for when this is all over, and it will be sweeter for it.

She makes the loveliest little whimpering cries as she tries to take more of his cock, sliding down further than he expected after what she went through last night.

“It’s okay,” he tells her in a quiet voice, “you don’t have to push yourself now.”

Her eyes are glassy and full of love as she says, “Forgive me for being greedy, my lord, but I want as much of you inside me as possible.”

Oh no. Of fuck. He’s not going to last the night, much less the remaining nights of the ritual. The urge to wrap his arms around her, pull her close and tell her he’d trade the entire world for her, is too strong.

Gojo can still remember when he first realized his care for her went beyond friendship (even if he didn’t quite grasp what lies beyond it). They were both ten, running and playing in the fields. It was a game they played often, where she pretended to be captured by a powerful cursed spirit and he pretended to be a special grade sorcerer who swooped in to rescue her.

But one day she said she wanted to be a sorceress who saved him. The request seemed silly to Gojo. He was from a prestigious sorcerer family and was already being trained after all. But he wanted to make her happy, so he stood by and pretended to yell for help while she jumped around making hand signs that were all wrong.

He finally interrupted the game and walked over to her, offering to teach her the correct hand signs. As he held her hands in his and adjusted her dainty fingers into the right positions, a blush spread over his face. He realized that he quite liked holding her hands. He wished he could hold them forever.

And now, all these years later, that same girl he so treasured is cumming on his cock, her velvety pussy clenching hard, her eyes locked with his as a range of emotions rush over her pretty face. The hands he held out of love are gripping his shoulders to keep her steady as her thighs tremble on either side of him.

Ah, this is truly a divine experience! There’s no sight on earth more beautiful than the vision of her climaxing simply from feeling him inside her, her pulsing clit remaining untouched.

He feels his cock throb, the sensuality of her orgasm making him cum, releasing everything he has inside her. She’s still trembling as she sinks as low as she can bear, as if trying to let his seed reach the deepest parts of her.

When it’s over, she climbs off him as demurely as possible, somehow looking pure and innocent even in such a perverse “dress”, her hard nipples still clearly visible, his cum dripping down her thighs.

**********

Later that evening, Gojo informs you that the next ordeal will begin soon, so you must begin preparing. You go to the bathing chamber to purify yourself in the perfumed water again, hissing at the sting of the warm water on all your little wounds.

After drying off and putting the sacrificial dress back on, you return to the main room, where Gojo is waiting. You see a large wooden box sitting nearby, and notice some sort of metal contraption having from the ceiling. Is that a pulley?

Regardless, you kneel on the floor and wait while Gojo retrieves another vial of the potion to make your body extremely sensitive to all sensation. You drink it without question. It will surely make whatever ordeal this is much more painful, but you won’t risk the integrity of the ritual by complaining.

“Just to let you know,” he says after you’ve emptied the bottle, “that potion is twice as effective as the last one. The ointment I’ll be putting on you will also be twice as effective.”

You look up at him with frantic eyes. Twice as sensitive?! You can’t even imagine how that’s possible. But no, you can already feel the potion starting to work. It must kick in faster too.

“Each night the potency will increase,” he says, watching you carefully. “By tomorrow night, even the air itself will feel like agony against your skin.”

Your body is starting to quiver. The floor beneath your knees feels rough and painful. Even the light, airy fabric of the dress is irritating you. But you smile up at Gojo. “I understand, my lord. Thank you!”

He sits down on the floor, a couple feet away from you. “We’ll give the potion a few more minutes to reach full effect.”

Maybe it’s the potion, or your heightened emotions, but you feel a sudden rush of love for him. He’s so unearthly beautiful, so perfect, it seems unreal that a god like him is sitting so close to you. Those feelings overlap with the love you had for him when he was still just a human boy, and it all feels overwhelming.

“My lord,” you say, feeling shy as you hesitantly speak, “do you think… at some point before the ritual ends… you might kiss me?”

His eyes widen slightly, then fall upon your lips. After a moment, he looks away. “That would probably be a bad idea,” he says.

Your heart falls into your stomach. But you suppose you should have expected that answer. Why would someone like him grace you with something so intimate as a kiss? You feel embarrassed for even asking.

“I’m so sorry, my lord, for asking such a brazen question! Of course I’m not worthy of such a blessing!” You look at the floor, avoiding his gaze. “And I’m sorry for forcing my way in as the sacrifice without considering what you wanted. I’m sure the previous sacrifices were all very beautiful. Far more beautiful than m-“

Your words are cut off as Gojo suddenly pushes you onto your back on the floor, then leans over you. He’s breathing hard, his eyes glowing dangerously, and he looks angry. Livid. It’s so shocking that you barely notice how much it hurt when your overly sensitive body hit the floor. “M-my lord?” you ask timidly.

He leans so close, you think he might have changed his mind about kissing you, but his lips never touch yours. His eyes, with their eerie supernatural glow, are staring into yours. “All those other sacrifices,” he says, his voice low and deep, “were like hideous, worthless weeds compared to the rose you are.”

What? Is he saying… you’re beautiful? You stare up at him, your body growing hot. “My lord… Satoru… is it possible that you lo-“

He suddenly growls in frustration, cutting off your question as his hands find your knees and wrench your legs apart. You lay there trembling beneath him as he pulls the sheer fabric to the side like it’s a nuisance. Bare before him again, you’re struck speechless by the intensity of his gaze. He’s practically panting as he looks you over.

“You’re eroding my self control,” he says in a strained voice. “And I’m afraid of what someone like me will do when I’ve lost that control completely.”

Then he dips his head down and licks straight up your glistening slit, his tongue parting your folds and finding your clit. You gasp, arching your back. The potion, at double strength, has made you so incredibly sensitive that you almost cum on the spot. You only hold back because you can’t bear the thought of squirting all over his holy face.

You cry out desperately as his tongue circles around your clit before his lips close around it. “Ahhh… please don’t, my lord! I can’t hold back!”

“Don’t hold back,” he murmurs, licking you like you’re the sweetest treat he’s ever tried.

“But… I’ll make a mess… on your face! It would be… blasphemy!” you choke out, your hands clawing at the floor. The pleasure is too intense! You’re going to cum any second!

He pauses and looks up at you, his lips already shiny with your arousal. He licks them and says, “Cum for me. Your god commands it.”

As his mouth returns to your dripping pussy, you obey his command, letting the pleasure overtake you and cumming hard, so hard that your body seizes up and your hips buck off the floor. You squirt all over his handsome face, even wetting his hair. He laps up as much of it as he can, actually moaning as he swallows it like a cool glass of water offered to a man lost in the desert.

He pulls back, wiping his mouth and looking at you apologetically, as if he’s just done something terrible. He gets to his feet and steps away, leaving you sprawled and panting on the floor. When he comes back, he’s cleaned himself and is holding a jar of the ointment. You look at it with trepidation.

Without a word, he lowers himself to the floor between your spent legs and begins rubbing the ointment all over your most delicate places. He seems to pay special attention to your clit, and the hyper sensitivity makes you cum again while he’s rubbing the ointment in.

You’re already totally overstimulated by the time he pulls some thin red rope from the box you noticed earlier.

“Tonight is the Night of Ropes,” he says, explaining the ordeal as he begins uncoiling the red rope. “You’ll remain tied up in a shameful, painful position until the sun rises.”

You realize with alarm that the sun just set. This will be a long night indeed.

Gojo moves you around as he needs to make the elaborate knots and get you into the proper position. You notice he’s back to touching you only as necessary, his fingers never lingering on your heated skin.

The tying process is hell. The rope is incredibly rough against your raw skin, bringing tears to your eyes. But at the same time, Gojo’s hands have to move all over you to fix the knots. While he’s working on the ropes that go between your thighs, two especially thin ones that sit on either side of your clit, rubbing it mercilessly while keeping your folds spread open, you cum twice more from the unbearable friction.

Gojo watches you each time, but doesn’t pause for longer than a moment before returning to his work. He’s barely speaking, which is only making this more awkward and humiliating.

Finally, you’re suspended from the ceiling, your ropes attached to the pulley. You’re facing down, as if lying on your stomach, with your arms tied behind you and your legs curled up so that your feet are tied to your hands. Your knees are pulled far apart by the ropes.

You’ve already noticed that you have to keep your back deeply arched. Relaxing your muscles at all forces the ropes between your legs to tighten and rub against your clit. With the ropes being so rough, and your clit being so overly sensitive, it’s absolute agony.

How can you possibly last like this until sunrise?!

Gojo disappears for a moment, then returns with another small piece of rope. “A little while ago I soaked this in my cum,” he says as he ties the rope around your head, pushing part of it into your mouth for you to bite on. It’s wet and sticky, but it holds his distinct taste, so you savor it, looking up at him with grateful eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll stay with you. Show me how much you can endure.” Then he sits down a few feet away from you and watches.

It’s mortifying, being stuck in such a pose in front of him. The ropes bite into your skin, burning it. Your arms and legs ache horribly from being tied behind you at such an angle, and your back is spasming as you try desperately to maintain the arch. Each time you relax the slightest bit, the ropes beside your clit roughly slide up and down, squeezing relentlessly as tears spring to your eyes. Once, you try to squirm a bit to take the pressure off your sore arms, but it only results in your legs being pulled up higher behind you and your thighs forced farther apart.

After only an hour, your whole body is twitching with pain and you’re whimpering pitifully around the cum soaked rope in your mouth as tears drip down your face. You don’t know how you’ll last another hour, much less the whole night.

*******

Gojo can’t take his eyes off her. He’s performed this ritual several times before, always at the insistence of the elders. And he’d be lying if he said he’s never imagined the woman he loves in place of the forgettable past sacrifices. He would picture her just like she is now, strung up, every inch of her exposed for him, struggling weakly against the pain, making such sweet little whines and cries.

But he always felt tremendous guilt after imagining such a sight. For as long as he could remember, he’s never wanted to hurt her. Ever. In fact, keeping her from being hurt has been one of the primary motivating factors in his life. If he kills all the enemies, all the curses and all the sorcerers who would use their power for harm, then she’ll be safe.

Looking at her now, all his sick, dark fantasies turned to horrifying reality, he can’t deny that a part of him is enjoying this. It’s like a beast has awakened inside him, and only his deep love for her will keep it at bay.

She looks so pretty like this, so vulnerable and helpless as her body is tormented. Ah, but he has to make sure she feels pleasure too, so that it overlaps with the pain. So he stands up.

Her eyes shift to him, watching warily as he steps closer. He moves behind her, where she can’t see, but he’s getting an eye full. Her legs are spread wide apart, trembling in their bonds and leaving her pussy on full display. The narrow ropes there keep her folds pried open, allowing him a clear view of her poor little quivering clit. He can see it sticking out between the two lengths of coarse rope, looking so delectable he could just eat it whole.

He can’t even imagine how painful this must be, for such a tender, sensitive spot, under the double strength effects of the potion and the ointment, overstimulated from cumming multiple times while he was tying her up, to be punished this way.

Reaching out with one hand, his fingers brush over the tip of her clit. The reaction is incredible. She jerks in her bonds, no doubt making everything tighten and only hurt worse. At the same time, a loud squealing sound that ends in a sob escapes her bound mouth.

Is her clit that sensitive now? He touches it again, this time rubbing it gently, and her body twitches as she cums instantly. Watching her squirt between the ropes as her pussy clenches around nothing makes his cock swell. There’s something so deliciously sinful about seeing his pure hearted, cherished girl being so lewd and debased, about being able to violate her whenever he wants, turning her body into a toy for his own pleasure.

Forget being a god, he’s turning into a demon.

In the throes of her violent orgasm, she twisted and pulled on the ropes, making them become more tautly pulled across her, rubbing her precious little clit raw and eliciting a muffled scream from her.

He makes her cum over and over while she sobs uncontrollably, and then she goes limp. At first, he thinks she’s passed out. He wouldn’t be surprised. All the previous sacrifices began blacking out by the one hour mark. This time it’s already been over two hours since he strung her up, and he’s been more aggressive about making her cum.

Fully expecting to see his dear one unconscious when he walks around to the front of her, he’s shocked to find her awake and looking up at him. Ah, her lovely face is such a mess! Streaked with tears, wet hair sticking to her skin, drool dripping off her chin as it leaks out around the rope in her mouth. The rough rope has slightly torn her pretty lips, and there’s a tiny smattering of blood on them. But in her glassy, pain filled eyes, he still sees love, reverence, gratitude.

He puts one hand on her head, and the touch makes her moan. He reaches over and unties the rope from her mouth, letting it fall to the floor. She pants for a few moments, catching her breath.

“You’re doing so well,” he says, holding her gaze. “But do you want to stop?”

“No!” she cries, looking distraught. “I can do this! I can last all night! For you… I can withstand anything!”

He smiles. “Then I’ll reward you.”

**********

Suddenly Gojo is behind you again, and without warning he shoves his cock into your aching pussy. You cry out, your body tensing up again as he repeatedly pounds your cervix. You don’t know which feeling is stronger, joy at being filled by the one you love, or agony at the realization that every single thrust makes the ropes tighten and shift.

The ropes have torn your skin in several places, not enough to cause terrible wounds, but enough to cause unbelievable pain under the effects of the potion. In particular, the two ropes against your clit feel like they’ve completely shaved the skin off and left nothing but bare nerve endings.

But this is all for him, for Gojo, for both the god you worship and the man you love. Thinking about that gives you strength, and makes the sensation of his cock slamming into you feel like heaven compared to everything else you’re feeling.

“Th-thank you, my lord,” you say through your tears, “for blessing me!”

He never stops or slows as he says, “I thought I told you to call me Satoru while I’m fucking you.”

“Ah! Forgive me, S-Satoru!” you cry.

He seems to throb inside you when you call his name, and he thrusts harder. “You really can endure it, can’t you?” he asks, his voice low, cold, strange. He doesn’t sound like himself.

“Yes!” you choke out, trying to block out the ropes digging into your flesh. “Because… I love you so much!”

Oh! You didn’t mean to blurt that out, though you’re sure he knows about your feelings by now.

Gojo still sounds different, almost frightening, as he replies. “Then, out of respect for that love, I won’t hold back!”

You feel his fingers at the ropes beside your clit, making your blood freeze, then he begins pulling them up and down, scraping the engorged little nub without mercy.

A scream rips from your mouth, and even though the pain is unimaginable, the stimulation makes you climax again. Your body shakes as you squirt around Gojo’s cock, clenching him for dear life.

He doesn’t stop pulling the ropes, even when your screams become broken sobs. You hear his voice behind you, breathy and deep. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. All debauched and ruined on my cock. You’ll take whatever I give, won’t you?”

“Y… yes, Satoru! My body… belongs to you!”

His cock throbs again. He’s close, so close that he might be losing his mind. “Take it then,” he says as he finally reaches release, his hot, godly cum shooting inside you in thick spurts. “Take it all like the obedient little sacrifice you are!”

And you do. Your body accepts his seed hungrily, squeezing him to milk out every drop.

When finished, he pulls out, and you suddenly feel so empty. But you promised him you would endure, so you shall.

In the end, you’re able to stay conscious for the rest of the night. Gojo helps keep you awake by fucking you or making you cum every time you seem close to blacking out.

At sunrise, just after Gojo tells you the ordeal is over, you pass out before he can even untie the ropes.

Chapter 3: Night of Needles

You wake up a little before noon, back on Gojo’s futon, covered with a blanket. When you peel it back and look down at yourself, you realize the sacrificial dress is gone, and you’re completely naked save for an assortment of bandages that have been carefully wrapped around your wounds.

The ropes left bloody, torn places on your skin, particularly on your arms and legs, where they were tightest. Your limbs are nearly covered, but only a couple of small bandages have been placed on your torso. You can still clearly see the lines in your flesh where the ropes were, angry red marks that were just barely mild enough to not bleed.

They might not leave scars, if you’re lucky. Your arms and legs are a different matter, as you can see small red splotches all over the bandages.

Oh wait. You’ll be dead in a few days. It doesn’t matter if you have scars now.

The wounds hurt, but not as bad as the overall soreness of being tied up in a painful position for twelve hours. Moving your arms and legs feels like moving broken bones. You wince, gasp, and cry as you simply try to sit up.

Gojo walks in, and your first instinct is to reach for the blanket to cover your nakedness, but then you remember that there’s no need. There’s nothing you have that he hasn’t seen up close by this point.

He looks a little uncomfortable when his eyes fall upon your bandages. “How are you feeling?” he asks as he sits down on the floor beside the futon.

You try to scoot around to a more respectful position on your knees, facing him. You flinch with every move. “I’m a little sore, my lord,” you say with a forced smile, trying to minimize your pain.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a quiet voice, as if he’s afraid someone else will hear. But there’s no one but the two of you in the shrine. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I’ve never wanted that. Please remember that during the rest of the ordeals.”

Your smile turns genuine. “Please don’t worry, my lord. Just knowing you care about me at all is a great comfort!”

He looks at you with an anguished expression. “Care? Oh, you have no idea, do you? I wish I could tell you!”

You want to ask him about that comment, but it’s clearly something he can’t discuss. So you change the subject. “My lord, did you come to feed me?”

He reddens slightly, then stands up and unties the belt of his robe. “Of course. You must be hungry.”

You scoot closer, wincing, then reach up one bandaged arm to wrap weak, shaky fingers around his soft cock. It hardens quickly as you lean forward to lick it, but it keeps slipping out of your hand.

After a few moments, Gojo gently takes your hand and pulls it away. “Here, let me do it,” he says, sliding his own hand up and down his shaft. You watch, mesmerized, as he pleasures himself just inches away from your face. Oh, it’s such a beautiful sight.

He’s staring down at you as he strokes himself, his eyes roaming from your face, down to your breasts, and then to the spot between your legs. To help him along, you spread your knees apart so that he can get a clearer view of your pussy.

Watching him has you heated, so you slip one hand down and touch yourself, gingerly opening your folds with your fingers. You lightly touch your clit, hissing in pain at how sore it still is. But if you touch gently, so so gently, it feels good.

Gojo’s eyes widen as he watches you, his gaze fixed on your fingers as his own hand picks up speed. Finally he says, “Here,” in a breathless voice, and you open your mouth.

He places his hot, leaking tip on your soft tongue, and then releases his gooey load into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around, tasting it thoroughly, before swallowing. Your fingers on your clit pause, and Gojo says, “Don’t stop. Finish.”

It’s a little embarrassing, despite everything that’s happened, but you obey his command, your fingers returning to their work. He watches you with wrapt attention as you smear your arousal around, coating your clit with it before rubbing in light circles. You don’t look away from his face, the sheer beauty of it helping you along.

When you climax, you experience a full body shudder as you give a little cry of pleasure.

Once you catch your breath, Gojo again sits on the floor a few feet away from you. He’s wearing a strange expression, like a young man who just saw a woman naked for the first time. It’s a strangely innocent look, and it reminds you of something else.

“You fed me before, remember?” you ask.

“You mean yesterday?”

“No, when we were children.”

“Huh?!” he asks, and you laugh at his shocked face.

“Not like this,” you say quickly. “One year the rice fields were damaged by storms, and everyone in the village was worried, wondering how we’d feed ourselves. When you realized what was going on, do you remember what you did?”

He smiles, obviously remembering. But he simply says, “Remind me.”

“You showed up at my house in the middle of the night, with a huge sack of rice from your family’s food stores. I still don’t know how you carried it. The bag was bigger than you! And you were wearing a scarf around your face like a disguise!” you say, laughing at the memory.

He laughs too. “If I recall, that wasn’t me. It was Phantom Thief Ryunosuke!”

“Right,” you say, with a slight roll of your eyes before going on. “You brought another bag every night, right up until your family found out and made you stop.”

“I didn’t know how much you needed!”

“We had so much rice, we were able to share with our neighbors,” you tell him. “You saved the village from starving.”

His face softens as he looks at you. “To be honest, I didn’t care about the village. All I cared about was saving you.”

You’re about to reply when a sound distracts you - the sound of a stomach growling. And it wasn’t yours. You look at him in surprise. “Haven’t you had breakfast yet?”

He averts his gaze awkwardly. “Oh, uh, not yet. I’ll eat something later.”

Wait. You haven’t seen him eat anything since the ritual began! “Are you… not eating?” you ask.

He looks like he’s been caught stealing. “I didn’t think it was right to eat while you’re not allowed to,” he says.

You feel sick. “No! The ritual is supposed to make you stronger, not weaker!” you yell, suddenly angry. “Satoru, why would you do something so stupid?!”

His eyes go round. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you realize what you just said to a god. All the reminiscing put you back into “friend mode”.

You quickly drop into a low bow, ignoring the pain shooting through your sore body. “Forgive me, my lord!”

“Don’t apologize!” he says, in such an earnest tone that you look up at his face. He’s smiling, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’ve missed that side of you.”

*******

Gojo can’t stop grinning. No one has talked to him like an actual person in years. Of course she would be the first one to do it. It makes him feel a little giddy to know his friend is still here, not completely replaced by the devoted worshipper.

Once they’re married, he’ll never let her call him “my lord” again.

He suddenly thinks of tonight’s ordeal, and his grin fades. He’s not sure he can do to her what the ritual requires, if he can give her that much pain. She looks so fragile sitting on the futon, naked except for the bandages covering her arms and legs, smiling sweetly because she doesn’t have a clue what horrors await her.

He wants to pull her delicate, hurting body into his arms and comfort her, kiss her, tell her he’ll never let her feel an ounce of pain again. But he can’t. Doing so would bring the elders’ wrath, and if the village suffered in the process of Gojo protecting her, she would carry that unnecessary guilt for the rest of her life. She’s too kind, too soft hearted. He knows her well enough to know she would prefer physical pain at his hands than to have her compassionate soul crushed by guilt.

“Why don’t you get some more rest?” he suggests, standing up. “I’ll eat something while you sleep, I promise. And I’ll wake you when it’s time to prepare for the ordeal.”

She seems conflicted, as if she’s not sure she should spend more time in bed. But in the end she nods and crawls back under the blanket. Before he walks out of the room, she stops him with a question he wishes she hadn’t asked.

“Can you tell me what tonight’s ordeal is?”

He tries to keep a neutral expression and tone when he answers, “Tonight is called the Night of Needles.”

Her pretty eyes widen, becoming instantly wet and glossy, her perfect mouth falling slightly open. The poor thing. She sews clothing for the village, so she undoubtedly knows how much a needle prick can hurt. Now she’s most certainly thinking about where the needles will go, and how very sensitive she’ll be under the effects of the triple strength potion and ointment.

It breaks his heart to see a few shimmering tears drip out of her eyes, but she wipes them away quickly and puts on a brave, lovely smile. “Thank you for telling me, my lord,” she says in that adoring voice. “I’m honored that my body can be of use to you.”

He opens his mouth to say something, some comforting words or assurances that it won’t be so bad or she’ll be alright. But he can’t. Because he would be lying. Tonight is going to be full of agony. Instead, he just says, “Rest. I’ll wake you later.”

She holds his gaze a moment longer, and he gets the briefest glimpse of terror in her eyes, but she covers it well, lying her head down and pretending not to be scared.

Outside the room, Gojo leans his back against the wall and sighs. He wishes she wasn’t so fucking self sacrificing! That’s how they got into this mess in the first place!

Although… that’s part of what made him love her.

As children, they both looked forward to the spring celebrations. One yearly event involved parents giving their children gifts. Gojo was always showered with toys and sweets, and one year he went to visit her the day after the event. He found her playing outside her house with a wooden ball painted bright blue. It was clearly hand made, probably by her father, and she proudly held it in the air to show it to him.

“Look, Satoru! It’s my favorite color! The same color as your eyes!”

He’d thought that was funny, and the two of them played with the ball all afternoon, passing it back and forth.

At the end of the day, he’d held the ball in his hands and been reluctant to give it back, but when she noticed how much he liked it, she smiled. “You can keep it, Satoru.”

“Really? Are you sure?” he’d asked.

She nodded. “You like it so much, and you can bring it to play with me sometimes.”

He’d grinned. “Thanks!”

Later that night, when a servant saw him playing with the ball and asked where he got it, he told the truth. The servant looked aghast as she said, “Young Master! You shouldn’t take a toy from a village child! That was probably the only gift she received this year.”

He’d been shocked. He assumed that, like him, she had been given lots of toys. Now knowing the truth, he felt terrible about taking her ball, and wanted to return it. The servant stopped him. “You’ve already accepted it. Returning it now might hurt her feelings. You should think of some other way to make it up to her without embarrassing her.”

The next day he took several of his new toys to her house and said he wanted to loan them to her, so they could play together with them whenever he wanted. Of course he never took them back, and from that point on often brought her little gifts. He doesn’t think she ever realized they were payment for the ball.

Now she’s trying to do the same thing, trying to give her precious life and body up for him. He’ll accept it, but then he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to her.

He wakes her a little before sunset so that she can purify herself before the ordeal. He helps her remove the bandages, feeling a sharp pang of guilt when he looks at the angry red rope marks beneath them, knowing whatever pain they caused will flare up again with incredible force once she drinks the potion.

Then he joins her in the water, helping her clean up. She flinches at the sting of the water on her wounds, her hand gripping his arm, but she remains overall steady and strong as she soaks in the flowery water. Afterwards, he gently dries her and applies fresh bandages.

There’s something very depraved about how the sight of her like this turns him on. The bandages covering her limbs only make the nakedness of her torso more pronounced, and the way she shivers and winces, the way she looks so pitiful and helpless, like an adorable wounded animal, makes his cock harden under his robe. Her body is so soft, so tender. Her lovely little pussy is on full display, his to look at and fuck as he pleases.

He has the sudden urge to shove her to the floor and fuck her delicious cunt until she’s completely broken and mindless.

But he won’t. What he has to do to her is much worse than that.

He leads her back to his room and gives her tonight’s potion. It’s three times the strength of the regular dose, and it starts working fast. Within seconds, she’s shuddering and twitching, starting to rub her sore arms and legs but drawing back when she realizes any touch, no matter how gentle, is extremely painful.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper, conscious of the fact that the elders are probably spying on them during the ordeals at least. He’s occasionally sensed their sorcery during the days, but he senses it much more often at night. They’re making sure he’s doing what “needs to be done”.

The thought of those old perverts seeing her like this only makes him hate them more. He should be the only one seeing her exposed and writhing as she cums.

Oh well, he plans to kill them after the battle with Sukuna anyway.

He gestures toward the futon. “Lie down, and I’ll prepare you.”

She dutifully does as told, lying on her back, gingerly and wincing at every little sensation. Just like the first night, he binds her wrists and ties them above her head. It’s more for her benefit than anything else. Tonight’s work has to be delicate, precise. If she’s thrashing around too much, she could be hurt worse.

He pushes her quivering legs apart and takes a moment to drink in the positively lurid vision below him. Her, bound and vulnerable, legs spread open, bare pussy glistening with arousal, bandaged limbs trembling, glassy eyes staring up at him with equal parts fear and love.

Ahh, he’s never wanted to ravish her more than he does in this moment. But he holds back. There will be time for that later.

Instead he pulls out the jar of ointment and, to her evident surprise, rubs it into her soft breasts. It’s the first time he’s openly touched them on purpose, and she moans when his fingers move over her hardening nipples. Then he moves on to rubbing the ointment into her smooth folds before opening them and applying it to her pretty little clit. She cums within seconds, the sensitivity proving too much for her to bear.

He watches with ravenous eyes as she squirts all over the futon, her body arching up, her sore arms tugging at her bonds as she cries out.

She’s so fucking beautiful.

And he can’t stop himself. He keeps rubbing her throbbing clit, making her cum again, just so he can watch that sinful scene over and over. He knows he’s overstimulating her, that this will only make her even more sensitive to the pain that will follow, but he can’t resist the way her body rises from the futon, the sweet cries on her lips, the shimmering tears in her eyes.

Finally he stops, himself breathless with desire. He retrieves a silken pouch from the floor nearby and slowly unrolls it. Inside are twelve shiny needles of varying lengths. When she sees them, a brief flash of panic passes over her face, but she doesn’t say a word.

Gojo pulls one of the longer needles from the pouch. It’s an elegant tool, so narrow that it won’t even leave a scar on her supple skin. She watches it with wide eyes as he leans forward, his free hand lightly gripping her right breast. He holds the needle up before her eyes and says, “Ready?”

She swallows, nods, and says, “My body belongs to you. Do with it as you please.”

He smiles. She really is too sweet.

Then he gently, carefully, pushes the needle into the fat of her breast. She draws in a sharp, hissing breath, her eyes closing and her bound hands clenching into tight fists above her head. Not bad considering how ridiculously sensitive she is.

He inserts two more long needles, making a circle around her nipple, a few inches out from it. Then he does the same with her left breast. By the end, she’s whimpering, tears trailing down her cheeks. She’s breathing fast, evidenced by her heaving chest, making the needles shake and wobble.

Her nipples are protruding into the cool air of the room, hard and quivering, as if they know what’s coming. He takes one between his thumb and finger, relishing the feel of it, the way she keens under his touch, gasping when she sees the slightly shorter needle in his other hand.

He doesn’t want to hurt her. Before the ritual, the very thought of doing something like this to her would have him feeling nauseated. But now that she’s right here, bound and naked and spread out for him, trembling with fright and pain but so determined to endure this for him… he feels like a sick and depraved fire has been lit inside him.

His thumb rubs over the nipple, making her half moan half cry from even that gentle pressure. Then he holds the nipple steady and pushes the needle through it. She tries not to scream, her face scrunched up in agony, eyes slammed shut, mouth clamped tightly closed. But when he grips the same nipple and pushes a second needle through, making an X with the needles, her resolve breaks down. She screams, her back arching the same way it does when she cums, her eyes flying open in shock, flooded with tears.

Without pausing or giving her time to catch her breath, he inserts a needle into her other nipple, making her screams grow louder. He finishes by making the X shape with yet another needle, making a total of ten in her lovely, soft breasts.

She’s crying openly, the needles catching the light and glinting so beautifully with her sobs.

“You’re doing so well,” he says soothingly, and she seems to calm down a bit as she looks up at him. But then he adds, “There’s only two left,” and she lets out a broken sob.

She knows where the final two needles are going, and she can only cry weakly in response. To her great credit, she doesn’t beg him to stop, doesn’t even hint at it. He doesn’t know what he would do if she did.

Could he do something so heinous to the woman he loves and cherishes if she pleaded with him not to? Even if it was ultimately to keep her alive? He’s glad he doesn’t have to answer that question, as the thought of asking for mercy doesn’t even seem to enter her mind.

He scoots down to get better access to her dripping pussy, then looks her in the eyes. “Just two more. Can you withstand it?”

Her voice is shaky as she answers him. “I can, my lord.” Then she forces a smile through her tears and says, “I’m so happy my unworthy body can be of help to you!”

He’s been rock hard since this all started, and now his cock is positively throbbing with the need to be buried inside her. He leans forward, getting closer to her face, and whispers, “There’s no sight in heaven or earth more beautiful than you.”

Her eyes widen, and such a look of love fills them that he almost breaks over and kisses her then. But he can’t. The elders are probably watching, so he must finish the ordeal.

He reaches down and opens her folds with one hand, exposing her small, twitching clit. He can’t resist rubbing it gently one more time, making her whole body shudder as she fights to hold back another orgasm.

He lightly pinches it between thumb and finger to hold it still, and she cries out, her arms pulling at her bonds again. He pulls out one of the two remaining needles, a shorter one with an extremely sharp point. He holds it up for her terrified, tear-filled eyes to see, then brings it close to her defenseless little clit. He gives it a teasing poke, making her gasp, then slowly plunges the needle through.

The scream that breaks from her lips is inhuman, almost divine. It’s a holy sound to his ears, combining with the distinctly sinful vision of her luscious body arching up, her legs spreading wider, the needles in her breasts bouncing as the one in her clit shimmers.

Fuck, he’s descending straight to hell.

She’s crying, her whole body shaking, babbling “it hurts” over and over. She looks truly broken for the first time since the ritual began.

But there’s one more needle.

When his fingers touch her clit again, her body jerks. It must be unimaginably painful to be touched while the needle is ran through it. But he must hold it in place, so he grasps it while she sobs, then pushes the other needle through, completing the X.

The instant the needle pierces her clit, she cums, her hips rising from the futon as she squirts more than ever before. What begins as a horrific scream evolves into a moan. The pain must be so intense that her body is confusing it with pleasure as a coping mechanism.

He can’t hold back any longer. His cock feels like it might explode. He grips her hips, pulls them into his lap, and shoves his huge, pulsing cock into her soaking wet pussy.

Her eyes are wild as she looks up at him, her face an angelic mixture of ecstasy and agony. As he begins fucking her, hard but slow, her body jerks with his thrusts, making the needles shake. “Th-thank you, Satoru!”

“Hmm? For what?” he asks, his own mind becoming clouded with animalistic lust as he keeps thrusting into her.

Her body is a wreck from being tortured, her face pained, but she actually manages to smile. “For… blessing me… with your holy cock!”

Ahh, that’s right. She’s a lowly human. Providing a warm hole for him to fuck should be the greatest honor of her pitiful little life. Her entire whore body exists only for her god’s pleasure.

With that unhinged thought in his fucked out brain, he reaches down and pinches her poor clit, then twists it with the needles still lodged through it. Again, there’s that glorious inhuman scream, her pussy clenching him tighter than ever before as her body converts the pain into pleasure and she cums around his cock, squirting all over his abdomen.

“Please,” she’s saying, her voice weak from screaming, “bless me by giving me your holy cum! I know… I know I don’t… deserve it… but please!”

She’s looking at him with such pure, innocent love while her slutty body clenches him, her sinful mouth begging for his cum.

“Take it all then,” he says, shoving in so deep his cock is smashed against her cervix. “This is what your body is for!”

He cums, shooting spurt after spurt of his hot, sticky load inside her. She trembles as he empties himself, then stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes. “Thank you, Satoru, my lord! Thank you so much!”

He comes back to his senses all at once, and upon remembering the disgusting thoughts he’d had, he feels a surge of guilt. He pulls out of her and gets to his feet, his eyes drawn to the thick globs of cum leaking out of her pussy, to the twin needles piercing her precious clit.

He feels sick.

The ordeal demands he leaves the needles in until sunrise. She’s already passed out, finally reaching her limit, and he hopes she can remain that way for as long as possible.

But he knows himself. The monster steadily growing inside him won’t be able to resist fucking her numerous more times tonight. Especially with her looking so debauched and destroyed.

So he leaves the room, hoping he can control himself just a little while longer.

Chapter 4: Night of Burning

When you and Gojo were both twelve, the two of you went into the forest one night to play. You’d been warned against this, but Gojo’s powers as a sorcerer were developing quickly, and he felt confident that he could handle any potential dangers.

One minute you were climbing a withered old tree, looking at the stars, and the next, some sort of creature knocked you both to the ground.

Cursed spirit, Gojo called it. A very powerful one. You would learn later that it was classified as “special grade”, whatever that meant. It seemed to target Gojo, perhaps sensing the threat he would someday pose.

It attacked relentlessly, Gojo doing all he could to deflect or dodge while keeping you behind him. You’d never seen him fight before, and even your young, untrained eyes could see that he was strong.

But he was still just a kid. Eventually his guard dropped and the creature knocked him to the ground. You thought he would be killed, and the horror of that thought compelled you to move. You ran over, standing in front of Gojo with your arms spread out, as if your weak body could shield him.

Maybe even then, you believed your love could save him.

The creature swatted you out of the way as if you were a fly, your body slamming into the old tree. The wind was knocked out of you, leaving you wheezing and clutching your ribs as you struggled to get back up, your lip split and bleeding.

You looked over at Gojo, who was staring at you with a horrified face. Then all at once his face morphed into a mask of cold fury, his eyes that you’d always admired becoming two haunting, glowing orbs as he got to his feet. He looked at the cursed spirit, and his voice seemed to echo around the woods as he said, “You touched her. You hurt her!”

Energy was crackling in the air, and the creature shrank back a bit. Gojo began walking toward it, a strange hazy light surrounding his body. When he reached the cursed spirit, that seemed to be paralyzed with fear, he raised his hand toward it. There was a great burst of light, and suddenly the creature simply ceased to exist. Not even a shadow or outline was left.

When it was over, Gojo ran to your side. “Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

You would later learn that two of your ribs were cracked, but you made a full recovery. That same night, the elders descended upon the village and dragged Gojo away. The enormous burst of power was felt by sorcerers all across the land, and that’s when they realized exactly what Gojo was. A rare power not seen in generations. A power that could change the balance of the world. A god in the flesh.

That’s when Gojo stopped coming to play with you. He only visited once more, in the middle of a balmy summer night, to tell you goodbye. They were taking him to the capital to be properly trained.

You were crying as you grasped his hand. “It’s my fault! If you hadn’t protected me, this wouldn’t have happened!”

He placed his free hand on top of yours. It was warm and firm. “Something else would have awakened my power then. It’s not your fault.”

“But I don’t want you to go!” you cried.

His own eyes were wet. “Listen, when I’m an adult, they can’t boss me around anymore! I’ll come back for you, and I’ll make you my bride!”

You wiped your eyes. “Really?”

He smiled. “I promise! Then we can be together forever!”

You kissed his cheek, and his face turned pink. “I’ll wait for you,” you told him.

He grinned. “Don’t marry anyone else, okay?”

“I won’t. You’re the only person I want to be with forever.”

The next time you saw him, three years had passed. He’d grown so tall, and so handsome. Your teenage heart fluttered wildly at the sight of him. But he walked through the village and to his newly built shrine, not even glancing your direction.

He spent four days in the village, and you kept waiting for him to sneak out and visit you, but he never did. After two more visits to the village, and still not even a glance from him, you realized he was not your Satoru anymore. He was the god Gojo. And he was beyond your reach.

Now, all these years later, you’re in his shrine, tied up in the main room, completely bare, your trembling legs spread wide. You’re on the floor, no futon this time to ease the pain of your hyper sensitive skin. You’ve already drank the four-times-strength potion, and your gorgeous god is applying the four-times-strength ointment to all of your already most sensitive places.

His graceful fingers rubbing your clit have already made you cum twice in a row, choking out broken sobs as you do. You’re so sensitive now that you can’t bear the still air against your twitching clit. Everything is excruciating, and yet your body has decided to cope with the pain by orgasming over and over, as if it’s trying to override the agony with pleasure.

When he’s finished, he stands up and steps a few feet away, his beautiful eyes still on you, watching you pant and cry. At this stage, he always wears a complicated expression. You know he doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s why he was so opposed to you being the sacrifice, why he tried to literally throw you out. But there’s lust in those eyes, and once the ordeals get underway, he changes. For a brief time, it’s as if he forgets the guilt, forgets that he cares about you, and only wants to satisfy his carnal desires.

The first time it scared you, but now, you’re ashamed to admit, it makes you happy. You, a lowly village girl, can make your god lose control. The way his eyes glow in those moments is terrifying but ultimately thrilling.

Maybe there’s something deeply wrong with you, or maybe these ordeals have fundamentally altered you. Either way, you find yourself looking forward to the moment he snaps, even if it’s accompanied by unimaginable pain.

“My Lord,” you say between breaths as he waits for the potion to take full effect, “when the time comes for you to sacrifice me… how will it happen?”

A pained expression passes over his face. “It’s probably better if you don’t know.”

“Please… tell me.”

He hesitates, sighs, then answers. “You’ll be laid on your back on an altar, and I’ll cut out your organs one by one, ending with your heart, to throw them into a ceremonial fire. Your blood will drain into a basin, where I’ll bathe in it to absorb the divine power your body soaked up.” He hesitates again, then adds the final detail: “Beforehand, you’ll be given potions that will paralyze you and also keep you awake and conscious until your heart is removed.”

Oh. It sounds painful, but you expected that.

Gojo disappears, then returns with a glass bottle. He steps over to a fire lantern and holds the bottle over the flame. “This ordeal is called the Night of Burning,” he tells you, and you feel your body tense up. Of all the possible types of pain, you fear burning the most. As a child you burned your arm on a kettle of boiling water, and you thought it was the worst feeling in the world.

He looks at you, and must notice the fear on your face. “Don’t worry, you won’t actually burn. You’ll just feel like you’re burning.”

You’re not sure if that gives you much comfort. You watch as the contents of the glass bottle change from pale yellow to deep orange as they heat up. The fluid even seems to have a thicker consistency.

“This is fire wax,” Gojo says, turning the bottle so that all sides can heat up. “It was developed a long time ago with sorcery as a method of torturing enemies that might have information the clan needs. It’s dripped onto the skin, and though it does no damage, it creates the sensation that whatever it touches is being held to an open flame. And the feeling doesn’t stop until it’s removed.”

You begin to shake at the thought, tears wetting your eyes.

Gojo is watching the bottle, the flame from the lantern reflecting in his eyes. “Usually a few drops onto their hands will have an enemy spilling everything they know within minutes.” He turns his attention back to you, and you think he’s never been more beautiful as his eyes shine with fire light. “It won’t be removed from you until sunrise. Can you endure it?”

You’re tied up with thin rope, on your back, spread eagle, arms above your head. Your whole body is trembling with sensitivity and terror. But you smile up at him. “I can, for you.”

He kneels down, right between your restrained legs, and opens the bottle. He holds it up over your stomach, then lets one small drop fall onto your skin.

You scream, your body jerking against the ropes. It feels like that one spot on your stomach is literally on fire. And somewhere in your panic stricken state, it occurs to you that he didn’t even put any of the ointment there.

He spills more small drops onto your thighs, your arms, your chest. When one drop falls onto your nipple, you nearly break down. You’re screaming incoherently, thrashing around on the floor, held steady by the ropes.

You’re burning! Your skin is burning!

Gojo’s voice cuts through your mangled cries: “Endure it. I’m here.”

Your screams briefly turn to pathetic hiccuping sobs as you try to calm down and focus on him. He sits the bottle down and slides both his hands under your hips, then pulls his robe open and pushes his cock all the way inside you. He doesn’t thrust or move, he just stays there, his tip pressed against your cervix.

It’s a distraction, and it works. You stare up at him, panting as you try to focus on anything but the blinding pain. Your mind feels hazy, as if your grip on reality is slipping. In this broken state, your emotions are bubbling over, spilling out of you.

“I waited for you,” you cry, tears streaking your face. “You promised you’d come back for me! So I waited, and wouldn’t let another man touch me, because I belong to you! Even before you were a god, you were everything to me! You wouldn’t even look at me when you came back, but my love never wavered.”

He looks like he wants desperately to say something, to answer you, but something is keeping him from it. He leans over you, and for the second time since the ritual began, you think he might kiss you. But he doesn’t. Instead his lips are at your ear, and in such a low voice you barely hear him, he says, “Mine never wavered either.”

Your eyes widen. Even while suffering through so much agony, those words reach your heart. Is he saying… he loves you?

But before you can truly think about what he meant, he pulls away from your ear and, with his cock still buried inside you, picks the bottle of fire wax back up. He holds it up, directly above your quivering clit.

You react without thinking, shaking your head back and forth. “Wait… Satoru… I don’t think I can handle this…!”

He looks down at you with adoring eyes. “You can. I know you can. Because you love me, right?”

You nod through your tears. You volunteered, despite his warnings, despite his efforts to get you away from all of this. To back out now would mean your love for him was weak all along. “I can endure it,” you finally say, then you watch as he tilts the bottle and a drop slips out, landing right on the most sensitive spot on your entire body.

A ragged scream erupts from your mouth as the most searing, unbearable pain hits you. Your body convulses, rising up from the floor, fighting against the ropes. And seconds later, your body’s coping mechanism kicks in, forcing an orgasm to wrack your form.

Both the pleasure and the pain cause you to clench so tightly around Gojo’s cock, you distantly think you might hurt him. But when you look up at his face, you see that familiar lust-crazed look. His eyes are gleaming, his skin is flushed, and he looks like he’s seconds away from destroying you.

Ahh, this is your only comfort. You can withstand the pain, the burning that won’t stop, the repeated orgasms making you ever more sensitive, if it means the man you love, and the god you worship, becomes lost in his desire for you.

He drops the bottle to the side, grips your hips, and begins fucking you roughly. You’re still screaming, but some of the screams turn to moans. He fucks you hard enough to draw your attention, despite feeling like your clit is on fire. In response, your body climaxes uncontrollably, clenching him each time.

His robe is falling off his shoulder, his hair is messy, and sweat is beginning to bead on his well toned chest. Even on his knees, he seems so much bigger than you. And his voice is silky as he says, with wild, lusty eyes, “You’re so cute like this… my pretty little sacrifice…”

You don’t know how you could possibly be cute right now, not with your face a mask of agony, tears streaming down it, your body twisting and jerking in pain. But something about this must be arousing to him, because his cock is already throbbing. You almost dread the moment he finishes, because without his deep thrusts, you’ll only have the burning to think about.

But he can’t last forever. You feel his cum, thick and warm, paint your insides, and then he slowly pulls out. You whimper and cry, feeling empty, the inescapable fire that was dripped all over your body moving to the forefront of your mind.

The wax has hardened, fully coating your clit in what feels like roaring flames. You try to keep telling yourself you’re not really burning, your skin is not damaged, but it’s hard to keep that in mind when every nerve is screaming that you’re on fire.

You thrash about on the floor, climaxing again before you finally, mercifully, black out.

Chapter 5: Night of the Womb

When Gojo was seventeen, while visiting his home village, he tried to sneak out of his shrine to go and visit the girl he loved.

This wasn’t the first time he tried it. As a child, his efforts were always thwarted by the elders, and this time was no different.

He made it out of the structure and into the cool autumn air, a blanket of stars overhead, before a voice stopped him.

“When are you going to give this up, Satoru?”

Gojo turned to see Tachibana, the only elder he actually liked. “Never. I promised her I’d marry her.”

Tachibana sighed. “I know you care for this girl, but you can’t marry. We’ve already explained that to you. It would diminish your divinity!”

Gojo frowned. “I don’t care.”

“Look,” Tachibana said, stepping closer. “You come of age this winter. If it’s women you want, we can arrange that. There will be offerings-“

“I don’t want other women! I want her!” Gojo practically shouted.

Tachibana patted his back in a consoling way. “Alright, I understand. But think of it this way: by training and getting stronger, you’re able to destroy even more powerful curses. You’re keeping her village safe. You’re protecting her.”

“I know that,” Gojo said, “but it’s not enough. I promised her we’d be together.”

Tachibana stared at him for a moment, seemingly in deep thought. Then he clapped his hands together. “Here’s my idea for a solution. In a few years, after you’ve completed your training, I’ll arrange things in secret so that you and this girl can be together. You can never marry, or have children with her, and no one can know about your relationship. But you can live together.”

Gojo felt his heartbeat speed up in excitement. They could be together! He only had to wait a few more years! “I’ll go tell her, so she knows the plan,” Gojo said, starting to head toward her house.

Tachibana stopped him. “Wait. Just keep it a secret for now. You might be seen in the village, and anything could go wrong. Avoid her until I can arrange this. Otherwise, you risk singling her out to your enemies.”

Gojo didn’t like the idea of keeping her in the dark, of making her think he’d forgotten her, but he understood the reasoning. If anyone found out he cared for her, be it intelligent cursed spirits, rival sorcerers, or even some of the elders who seek to control him, she could be a target for attacks.

He could wait a few years.

Unfortunately, Tachibana died two years later, from an incurable illness, and the rest of the elders were staunchly against the idea of Gojo having a relationship with anyone. Eventually, Gojo gave up on the idea, trying to find contentment in knowing he was keeping the woman he loved safe.

Now, he’s sitting on a cushion in his shrine while that very woman is kneeling on the floor in front of him, reverently sucking him off. His watches her work, thinking for the millionth time that he would die for her, that he’d tear this whole fucking world apart before he’d sacrifice her.

She doesn’t know his plan, and like all those years ago, he can’t tell her. She would be against it. She’d be afraid he wouldn’t have the necessary power to defeat Sukuna. He can’t tell her that these rituals are all bullshit, that the elders just came up with them as a way of making Gojo seem more like a god.

Gojo doesn’t need any extra power. He’s plenty strong as it is.

So he’ll make the elders think he killed her, then hide her away. After he defeats Sukuna, the two of them can be together, just like they always wanted.

Even the elders wouldn’t dare intrude on the actual sacrifice. It’s supposed to be the moment Gojo and her are at their most intimately bonded, and though he’s often sensed their energy during ordeals, he’s never once sensed them during the sacrifice.

But first, the final ordeal. If they can just get through it, everything will work out.

****

You blink, trying to wrap your head around what Gojo just told you about the final ordeal. “The Night of the Womb” he called it.

“But… how does that even work?” you ask.

He holds up a glass bottle, similar to the one you just drank to make you five times more sensitive.

“This potion tricks your body into thinking you’re about to give birth, so that your cervix will begin dilating,” he says. “I’ll help it along with a tool, then when it’s dilated enough, I’ll fuck you straight through your cervix and penetrate your womb.”

That sounds rather unpleasant, though not as horrifically painful as the past two nights. But it does sound like it will be very intense. The thought of him being so deep inside you is strangely thrilling, but knowing this is your last night with him is making you feel emotionally overwhelmed.

He hands you the potion and you drink it without hesitation. You sit on the floor, feeling the effects of the sensitivity potion, waiting for the other one to kick in. Suddenly you feel a sharp pain in your lower stomach, similar to the cramps you get during your monthly cycle, only much stronger. You clutch your abdomen and lean over, trying to get some relief.

“Looks like it’s working,” Gojo says.

You raise your head to look at him. As always, he looks pained himself, as if he’s hurting just by watching you. “I think so, my lord,” you say, forcing the words through gritted teeth. Perhaps your earlier assumption that this wouldn’t be too painful was naive.

Gojo comes closer and eases you onto your back, then pushes your legs apart. No ointment tonight, probably because your pain will be internal this time.

“Let me check your progress,” he says as he slowly pushes two fingers inside you. Wincing, you feel a strange ache as he presses on your cervix. “Not quite ready. Let’s help it along.”

He pulls out two extremely thin, long rods. You look at them with fear, but he doesn’t hesitate as he inserts one of them, pushing it in so far that you gasp. Then he pushes the other one in right beside it.

“Try to relax your body,” he says as he begins using the two narrow rods to open up your dilating cervix.

If the potion hadn’t made you so sensitive, this might not hurt very much, but right now there’s a stinging sensation along with a dull throb in your lower stomach. You lie perfectly still as he works, gradually opening your most private places. After a few minutes, he feels with his fingers again, gently prodding. You feel an odd sensation, and you realize his two fingers are inside your cervix, sliding up. You have to resist the urge to clench.

“I think you’re ready,” he says, withdrawing his hand as well as the two rods.

Your stomach is still cramping, and you wonder if your body has truly been tricked into thinking it’s giving birth. You felt incredibly vulnerable and sensitive when his fingers slid inside. How will it feel to have his massive cock shoved in there?

Your pussy is dripping, but you couldn’t help noticing that he never once touched your clit. You find yourself missing the intense orgasms that came with him applying the ointment.

But soon all thoughts leave your mind, when Gojo pushes his hard cock in. Unlike usual, he doesn’t stop when he hits your cervix, because this time he goes right on through.

You feel his tip enter your womb, and your body seems to be screaming that this is wrong, that this feeling is unnatural. You feel pain in your abdomen, and your muscles clench involuntarily. You take several gasping breaths before he gives a few light thrusts. It feels incredibly strange, but as you look up at his face, you realize he’s deeper inside you than ever before, and you feel so very close to him in this moment.

His hand moves to your stomach, lightly rubbing it. “Feel me? I’m all the way in here,” he says.

You nod, still trying to breathe normally and keep your body as relaxed as possible. “I feel you, Satoru… you’re so deep!”

He leans over your body, his eyes gleaming. “Does it hurt?”

“N-no,” you lie, “I just feel you.”

“Good,” he says, then begins fucking your womb in earnest, his hips grinding into yours, his breaths coming quick.

There’s pain, cramping in your stomach and a brutal stretch somewhere far within, but it’s almost inconsequential when compared to how intimate this feels. You can’t help yourself now, throwing your trembling arms around his neck and holding on for dear life.

You hear a sharp intake of air, like a gasp, and suddenly his arms are around your back, pulling you further into the embrace. It’s the first time he’s ever held you, and the joy that blooms in your heart outweighs any other feeling.

“I love you, Satoru,” you say, whimpering the words as you cling to him.

There’s a pause, and then you hear his voice, a whisper against your neck, “I love you too. I’ve always loved you.”

Your eyes widen and fill with tears at the same time. “Really?”

He pulls back enough to look at your face. His voice is still quiet, as if he’s afraid someone else will hear. “I tried to go back to you so many times, but the elders always stopped me. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about you.”

Those are the words you’ve longed to hear. You feel closer to him now, both physically and emotionally, than you ever have. “But you’re a god,” you say, keeping your voice quiet like his, “and I’m just… just…”

He smiles down at you. “If I’m a god, you’re my goddess. Never call yourself unworthy again. My heart can’t take it.”

You moan as he goes even deeper into your womb, finding pleasure even in the pain now that you know his true feelings. The tension in your body builds, the sensation of his arms around you, his skin against yours, his breath hot on your neck, all overwhelms you.

Crying out his name, your grip on him tightens as you climax, your body shaking in his grasp. It occurs to you that this is the last time you’ll cum while being fucked by him, and you clutch him even tighter.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, still thrusting through your cervix. Eventually he pushes in deeper, so deep that when he cums, it directly fills your womb. There’s so much that it leaks back out, coating the inside of your cervix and everything below.

Ahh, if only you weren’t going to die this night. Without even realizing you’re saying it out loud, you mumble out your feelings: “I wish I could’ve given birth to our child.”

He pulls back and stares at you. “Do you… think you might be…”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter now. Sacrifice me, and defeat Sukuna!”

His eyes are wet as he leans down and presses his lips to yours, finally giving you the kiss you’ve been waiting for. It’s a ridiculously chaste kiss, considering his cock is still wedged into your literal womb, but it makes your heart dance. He slowly, carefully pulls out of you and gets to his feet.

“It’s time,” he says. “I’ll take you to the sacrificial altar.”

You smile as you take his hand. This is your purpose, how you’ll leave your mark on the world, and on Gojo. You couldn’t ask for a better death.

*******

Gojo sensed the remaining energy of the spying elders dissipate just before she wrapped her arms around him while he was fucking her womb. He supposed they were satisfied that he was completing the ordeal.

Now, his senses are on high alert as he leads her to what they call the “ritual room”. They’ve never tried to watch this part before, but there’s a first time for everything, so he has to be careful. He has a to make them believe she’s being sacrificed. Luckily, part of the sacrifice involves burning her body to ashes in the ceremonial fire, and he already has some ashes prepared.

She’s quiet as they enter the ritual room. He leaves her side to light the fire and then gives her two potions. One is to temporarily paralyze her, the other supposedly meant to keep her conscious during the grisly process of killing her. Only, he switched out the second potion for one that will make her fall asleep. He knows she’ll argue, try to convince him to go ahead with the sacrifice, and he’s hated arguing with her since they were children.

He lifts her onto the altar and eases her onto her back, then fixes the sheer sacrificial dress around her.

She’s staring up at him, her eyes glimmering in the firelight. Already she’s become still as stone, and she looks exhausted. He again checks for any hint of unwanted energy, then he strokes her hair lovingly. “Please listen very carefully. I don’t have time to repeat myself,” he says.

She gives a stiff nod, probably expecting some last minute instructions for the end of the ritual.

“You’re going to fall asleep very soon. When you do, after I finish my preparations, I’ll take you to a hidden location. Stay there until I kill Sukuna and return for you. Don’t allow yourself to be seen, no matter what.”

Her eyes widen in horror. “But… the ritual… Satoru, you have to finish it! If Sukuna kills you, I won’t be able to bear it!”

Ah, so she still has the strength to talk. Her voice is weak and stilted though. “Sukuna won’t kill me,” he says confidently. “I’ll defeat him, and then come back to you. We’ll live out the rest of our lives together.”

She opens her mouth to say something else, but no sound comes out. Her eyes are fluttering. She’ll be asleep any moment, so he finishes what he has to say.

“Don’t you dare feel responsible for any of this. The ritual was never real to begin with. The elders made it all up. What is real is our love. That’s what will give me power. Now rest until I come back.”

With that, he gives her another kiss, then waits for her to fall asleep.

*****

When you wake up, you’re in a small house. It’s old, but clean, and after some looking around, you realize it’s in the middle of the woods. The place is well stocked with food and water, clothes, and any other necessities you might need.

You can’t believe this is happening. If Gojo was being honest, and the ritual was fake all along, then you’re happy he brought you here. But if he was only trying to soothe any guilt you might feel if he dies… well, you’d rather be dead yourself.

Choosing to believe in him, you eat and rest and prepare for his return.

It’s a week later when you hear a knock at the door. Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as you run over to open it. On the other side stands Gojo, your god, your lover, your best friend.

He immediately pulls you into his arms, holding you tenderly. “I won,” he says.

“Of course you did,” you reply, standing on tip toes to kiss him.

“We can be together now. I’ll tell the elders they have to accept you, or I’ll never fight another battle for them. I’ve proven my power to them now.”

You snuggle into his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

He grins. “I missed you too. Let’s enjoy our reunion thoroughly tonight.”

You look away awkwardly. “Um, Satoru? Did you keep any of the potions? Or the ointment?”

He seems confused by the question. “I can get some easily, why?”

You feel your face burning as you answer him. “I was just thinking… maybe we could repeat some of the ordeals. Just for our own pleasure.”

He pulls back slightly. “You mean you want me to do those terrible things to you again?”

“Not all the time,” you clarify. “Just every now and then, if you want to. It felt good, being desired, seeing you lose control.”

He laughs as he kisses you. “So you get turned on when I become a feral beast?”

You nod. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, that’s okay.”

His hand slips down the collar of your clothes. “Actually, after such a long and violent battle, I’m feeling a little feral already.”

He closes the door behind him as he leads you toward the bed. You smile up at him, saying, “I still belong to you.”

“We belong to each other,” he corrects, his fingers already working to remove your clothing. “Now get on the bed and spread your legs. I’ll show you what happens when I really lose control.”