Feature Writer: Unknown
Story Codes: Satanic, Snuff, Ritual, Pregnant, Sacrifice
As Gwen drove home, she felt a burning urge from within her tummy and the child there-in. She knew what it was. For the first (and last) eight months of her unborn son’s life, she had trained him to understand that the only attention he would get from her would be abuse, either physical or emotional.
This was it’s karmic choice, part of the price it had agreed to pay before it had been conceived. Now, the child based it’s relationship with his mom on this kind of treatment and craved it.., especially when he knew she was alone and could give it to him.
She lit some incense in the ash tray, a mixture of myrrh and lavender, because it helped the communication between mother and child. As soon as Gwen had smelled the incense, she had heard and felt her little baby saying, “Hi mommy!” He was always so glad she could “hear” him again. He was so glad to connect with her. Fetuses are so forgiving.
She pressed her tummy up against the steering wheel and bounced hard against it, but knew sweetums would not be very affected by that. She pushed the button on the electric seat and Gwen’s tummy squeezed harder against the steering wheel. She pressed the button again.
Now, Gwen knew that the boy’s spleen and intestines and ribs were being pressed-on violently. He was psychically pleading with her to stop. He wondered what he could do to make her happy so that she would not hurt him anymore. Another push of the button on the electric seat adjuster and the little boy was screaming, crying uncontrollably and defecating in the womb. Gwen knew this, so grinned from ear-to-ear, waited a couple of seconds.., and reversed the seat direction to detach her eight-month-pregnant belly from the steering wheel.
She knew he was still crying ten minutes later. She also knew the child was wondering who he could turn to for help once he was born. He was trying to “home in” on Gwen’s mother. Fat chance. The baby’s would-be maternal grandmother didn’t know a thing about him, and even if she found out, the boy was going to be aborted anyway. Conception, pregnancy and abortion was why Gwen moved to Tampico, away from family and friends. It was also where her Satanic group lived.
This little boy’s abortion would take as long as three hours. After Gwen entered the room and dropped her black, silk cape behind her and walked to the four foot high altar to sacrifice her unborn son, she would lie down on it on her back and her wrists, ankles and neck would be restrained with leather collars which were chained to the five points of the pentagram on the stone floor.
If she was unrestrained, unbidden and unwanted demons might try to get inside the “magic circle” of the ritual and get her to hurt herself or disrupt the proceedings. Sometimes angels or ancestors of the offering would do the same thing.
The High Priest would be there and so would the High Priestess, with six male members and six female members. The child would be evicted from the womb by it’s own mother, with the help of the group. The child would fear what lay in wait for him outside, but would be unable to stay in the panic, hostility and severe pain of his mother’s womb.
The twelve members would be gathered around the “vehicle” (Gwen), masturbating and chanting, creating a thick, psychic ring of protection for Gwen to send her child back to spirit. By the time it would be expelled, it would be frightened to death.
Gwen got the child home and sat down to her twice-daily confirmation ritual, where the child’s guardian demons were appeased and guardian angels were assessed and repelled. Since the abortion was tomorrow, she had to know that the powers of light were not going to pull something tricky at or just before the ritual abortion. Everything seemed fine to her.
The powers of darkness had complete control over this child. The main reason for which was because Gwen had devoted herself so fully to Satanism and the knowledge that some women and men are born to create life and some are born to destroy it. Both forces of nature are necessary and both deserve to be worshiped. She knew her spiritual place.
As Gwen was doing her ritual, re-dedicating her unborn son to the powers of darkness, Roberta was at her hotel, masturbating vigorously. She had been extremely turned on by what Gwen had told her and especially by the fact that she was going to witness an abortion tomorrow. She had never thought of abortion as erotic until now and was amazed by her new awakening of passion. She was so wet she came three times in a half hour.
She secretly always wanted to see someone die. Not just Hollywood die, but a real death. Someone she didn’t know or care about. Violently if possible. She never thought she would ever get to see it happen and never in a million years did she think it would be a tiny, little baby. These are the kind of secret thoughts that most women do not share with anyone else.., usually not even their best friends.
There is one inescapable truth though, for male and female of any age alike: Watching someone die violently is one of the most exciting things one can do. After 8 months of hurting, frightening and working to retain her unborn son, Gwen would open her legs around 3 o’ clock tomorrow morning when a priestess would arrive to introduce the powdered herbs to her womb. This would begin the process, which would culminate that evening, enabling Gwen to begin another cycle.