SIS’S SABBAT GOAT

Feature Writer: The Evil Meester

Feature Title: Sis’s Sabbat Goat

Published: 03.11.2022

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A Sabbat Goat comes to call —This story is not a story about bestiality. This is a story about the Devil (or a demon) in the form of a goat, a staple of witchcraft legends (and a lot of drawings and engravings!) from the 1500’s to the present day. Some of these drawings can be found in art books and even art museums today.

Sis’s Sabbat Goat

It was a Friday night and she was alone at the house, which was fine with her. Her Mom was at a business conference and her younger sister was out on a date: somebody conventional, not one of her goth friends. A noise from outside caused her to look out the back window. There was something standing in the middle of the grass. Sis’s damn goat was back: big and black and sinister. The glowing red eyes were definitely creepy.

She opened the back door and went outside. She first saw the goat about eight days ago when she had to drive over and pick up her sister from a party. The goat and her sister were on good terms, so she decided not to run it off. The goat stared at her, neither approving nor disapproving. Those eyes are creepy, she thought. At least it didn’t try to butt her.

“If you’re waiting for Sis, she’s not going to be back for a while,” she said.

The goat didn’t speak. She had very little experience with goats, especially not this sort. She’d seen some at livestock shows back in Oklahoma, but not only were they on one side of the pen and her on the other, they were a lot smaller.

Was it a goat? Something told her that it might not be a goat at all. A demon in goat form? Maybe. She decided to treat it as a goat.

“Are you thirsty?” she said, “I’ll get you some water.”

She went inside, opened a cabinet, and pulled out a pitcher and one of her mother’s large mixing bowls. She filled the pitcher from the sink, then took both the pitcher and mixing bowl outside. The goat was still waiting when she returned. The goat watched her as she walked across the grass, then nodded as she set the bowl down before it and filled it from the pitcher. The goat bent its head and drank, then resumed staring at her with its unsettling gaze.

“You’ve got some nerve,” she said, glaring at it.

She decided to see if she could stare it down. She looked at the goat right in its glowing red eyes and scowled, waiting to see who would look away first, her or the goat. A thought ran in and out of her conscious while she was staring at the beast: I could get lost in those eyes.

But she refused to look away: instead, she continued to stare at the goat. The goat continued to stare back at her.

After a while she realized that she’d made a mistake: she was no longer able to speak or turn away. The goat still remained silent and she remained put. She was captivated. She began to see images: a full moon, the smell of woodsmoke, naked men and women dancing around a roaring bonfire, a blazing pentagram floating in mid-air, the priestess holding a silver athame. A Witches’ Sabbat. The goat stood to the side and looked on approvingly. She realized that it wasn’t just one Sabbat, but many.

Another vision: a naked woman lying on the ground. Her face, seen from above, panting in lust and ecstasy underneath the goat. The shifting interplay of shadow and firelight caused the face to change again to another, then to another, then to another. There had been a lot of women.

The goat rose on its two hind legs, putting its forelegs on her shoulder, his weight pushing her downwards. Her knees bent and she knelt. Despite the goat’s scent, the smell of its breath and its red glowing eyes, she found that she was aroused. The goat’s forelegs continued to press her. She found that her mouth was level with the goat’s groin I know what you want, she thought. She stared at the goat’s cock. This was no real goat’s penis: she’d seen a couple of those at a stock show back in Oklahoma. This was human-sized: it was also erect and throbbing. Despite a dry and hollow thought that what she was doing was wrong, she felt herself drawn to it and that her mouth was getting closer and closer. Some impulse drove her to kiss its tip. Then she kissed it again again and again, then licked its head before taking it into her mouth. She began to suck on it, her mouth moving up and down the goat’s shaft. After a while the goat backed away and released her shoulders.

To her surprise she regained her speech and mobility. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said. She went back inside, feeling a weak wash of normality trying to creep over what she’d been doing outside. You can still get away, a faint voice said in the back of her mind. That wasn’t enough to stop her from opening up a side table drawer to look for a candle and matches or making a trip to a hall closet to grab that beach towel she never put away after a trip to the ocean. The phone rang: she picked it up without answering it, hung up, then took the receiver off the hook.

She returned to the demon-goat and bowed. The goat made a motion with one of its hooves: here. She laid out the beach towel on the grass. She bowed again and lit the candle, the goat nodding with approval as the wick burst into flame. She realized that she’d moved beyond choice or right or wrong: this was meant to be. This had always been meant to be. She rose again to her feet and began to undress. When she was completely naked, she knelt on the towel, head bowed, her eyes downcast,

The demon-goat again nodded approvingly. It then stepped forward and began to first muzzle, then lick her nipples. The sensations were like nothing she’d ever experienced before: they were incredible. This was nothing like back-seat petting during a date: this was far more arousing.

After a while the goat backed away. She knew what was coming next. She shifted her position and laid back on the towel, spreading her legs wide. The goat lowered his head and began to lick her inner thighs and nether lips. The sensation was incredibly arousing, causing her to cup her breasts in her hands and moan as the goat continued to lick her. It took seconds to orgasm once, then again.

The girl was building towards her third climax when the goat lifted his head and stopped licking her and lifted its head. She knew that that she was going to give in, but she brushed her fingers against her lower lips to see if she needed lubrication. I’m soaking wet, she thought. The demon-goat stepped forward, the tip of his penis now pressing against the lips of her pussy. As it pressed against her, she was reminded that this was no natural goat: his cock was much bigger. The goat inched forward, its cock now sliding past her vaginal lips, and he took her.

THE END