Sylvia, the Virgin Sacrifice Ch. 02

SYLVIA, THE VIRGIN SACRIFICE II

AUGUST SMAXWELL

Copyright © 2026 August Smaxwell

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Content Warning

Contains creature romance, dubious consent, spankings, orgasm denial, chastity, oral penetration, cum swallowing, forced humping, humiliation, pee, power exchange, possessive domination, and punishments. For your safety, please do not proceed if any of the above is triggering.

CONJURING DESPERATION-II

The coven knew. They didn't say it outright, but it was in their eyes and stuck on their grins. It corrupted their postures. Sylvia imagined the word spread quickly. Why wouldn't it? Sylvia was rare in the coven, being one of the few girls that had actually taken the vow. Taken the daring leap to offer her body, her purity, and her life to the High Coven, and the inevitable sacrifice that awaited her. Sylvia made that choice, or at the least, ended up walking along the line that led to that choice. And now, the quarterly inspection had been failed, the whole program jeopardized, all because she got fucked in the ass.  

Sylvia thought to herself that she had made a terrible mistake.

She sat there, watching Professor Morgan explain the difference between liquid death and essence of death and their impact upon the fourteenth century. The chastity belt cut into her waist. The restrooms were down the hall and public. She couldn't bring herself to it, so she squirmed in her chair instead, trying to forget she ever had a bladder.  

"Sylvia, stop fidgeting," Professor Morgan reprimanded her, "or I'll have to see you in detention."

The class snuck giggles and sneers. Beak-faced Joan, her best friend, who sat a few rows down beside her, gave Sylvia a confused look.  

"Sorry professor," she said and ducked lower in her seat.  

Once dismissed from Magical History for the day, Sylvia retreated straight to her room in the dormitories, avoiding passerby conversation and eye contact entirely. Joan had called after her, but Sylvia broke into a run and said she'd explain later.  

Sylvia had gotten exceptionally better the last few days at avoiding people, employing a few key incantations in the process. Conjuring up deception, forgetfulness, and subtlety, but they didn't help her much.

Sylvia sat off the side of her bed, with legs crossed, facing the same dilemma that had plagued her since the belt was first locked to her body. She could feel the moisture around her holes. Hopelessly locked away, suffocated, deprived--she needed relief, and having to request the restroom only made those layers of desperation worse. She had already tried casting the wand against the belt while calling forth incantations to break, to unlock, to jellyify, with no success. She had tried sending vibrations through when she was feeling desperate for touch, but it was no use, just frustrating and pointless. The belt would not allow stimulation.

Sylvia waited, letting the pressure build and build until it was so high she would have no choice but to ask the fated question and carry out the act. She had almost pissed herself several times following this desperate method, but only a small amount had escaped each time as she contemplated requesting release.  

Sylvia decided her bladder had been ignored long enough, she needed to pee. On the horizontal band of the belt on the right side, just above her hip, was a small button. She pressed it three times and spoke as she ran from her bed to the toilet, "Please, may I use the bathroom?"

Silence.

She danced on her tippy toes, lifted the lid and sat down over the toilet bowl and pressed the button three more times.

"Please, please, I need to pee," she said.

"Granted," the voice spoke, the voice of the High Chancellor, disembodied and manifesting itself as if it were whispered directly into her ear.  

Her skin ran in goosebumps.

The hatch on the back underside of her belt slid up, revealing the rectangular slot her two holes were encased in.

Sylvia pressed her lower tummy as she began to piss, using her hands to jostle and shake her full bladder and the belt, scraping every ounce of pleasure from the act. She moaned, her toes curled, her eyes watered and hydrated liquid flowed out of her in a powerful splattering stream that managed to get her ass and thighs incredibly wet. It dripped and ricocheted off the belt. Her face ran scarlet, but she had to savor every scrap of release.

The High Chancellor spoke once more into her ear, "See me in my chamber, Sylvia, when you are finished."

She patted herself dry and the hatch closed.

Sylvia washed, turning the water to its hottest, burning out the traces of desire she could until her fingers brightened. She slipped on sneakers to ascend the highest tower of the dormitory building. She had to grant herself some comfort. Any small amount she could.

Sylvia knocked on the wooden door with a polite fist.

"Come in," he said.

The High Chancellor sat at his desk. His chambers were lit by a vast array of candles loosely attached to alcoves, stuck on top of furniture, or dangerously hung off pillars. The room was stone, carpeted, well-furnished and full of books. They were stacked on surfaces, and neatly organized in the many bookshelves that lined the curved walls.

"Ah, Sylvia. How are you doing?"

"Not great, High Chancellor, Sir," her voice faltered and cracked. "Wearing this belt is punishing."

"Yes," he said.

"It has been days, Sir. Could I please be let out for a break."

The High Chancellor spoke, "You have been a most disappointing girl, Sylvia." He tapped his dark nail on the unfeeling surface of his desk.

"I know. I'm sorry, High Chancellor, Sir." 

"Sorry does not cut it." A thought crawled across his face and his expression became lecherous. "Poor little Sylvia, maybe there is something we can do. Disrobe," he said.

Sylvia, without much thought, unbuttoned and dropped her dress to the floor, keeping her socks and sneakers on, the belt counted for panties.

The High Chancellor twitched his forefinger, forcing his chair back from his desk and rotating it to the side.

"Come here, Sylvia. Get over my lap."

Her eyes were downcast and sullen, but she reluctantly climbed up and draped over him like a doll.

"Do you know why I am going to spank you, Sylvia?"

"No, Sir."

"You did a very bad thing, breaking your vow with the coven. I want to purify you, this is the only way."

Sylvia remained quiet, the anticipation, the stillness in the air, the static tension--she could taste it.

The High Chancellor held her, his left arm cupping her waist, holding her steady upon his thigh. He brought his wrinkled right hand up and straight down upon her tender, vulnerable bottom in two sharp snaps.

THWACK THWACK

He struck both cheeks, putting care to avoid the metal band of the chastity belt that ran between her legs.

"We will get to the bottom of what you did," he said. "We will find that man, that defiler."

THWACK THWACK

He continued striking her bottom. "This is what you deserve," he said, keeping a fast, consistent, steady rhythm, building up the pain in layers, painting pink onto her bum with each successful strike.

THWACK 

THWACK

THWACK

Her head bobbed forward with each impact that brought with it an additional layer of blush. He kept his fingers spread open, landing precisely in the same spot, stamping her bottom with a mean red hand, forming a clear outline.

Sylvia went "Ow," and "oh, oh" as he struck her.  

She closed her eyes, feeling the heavy scolding to his strikes.  

She wanted to be a good girl.  

He kept spanking her, the tint of pink on her flesh shifted to red, sweet, scolded red, and then he stopped, satisfied with the color and the sting she ought to have felt.

He walked his nail along her belt and with a sharp snap, the metal turned as cloth and fell open upon his lap.

"Thank you, Sir," she said with wet eyes and the relief of air between her legs.

He repositioned her and opened her thighs a little, revealing her two bright holes. Her cunt was wet, clearly deprived from the days in the belt, the poor girl, this had done her good, he thought.

He placed the palm of his hand underneath her coven-owned pussy.

"Hump," he said to her.

She froze, unsure of what to do, but then the warmth of her bottom encouraged her and her body began moving, circling at the hips, raising up and then down on his hand. Warm pussy juice quickly smeared in strands that hung between her opening and his rough palm.

"Faster," he ordered.

She increased her pace, struggling on him, whimpering, going oh and uh, uh, uh.

"Useless coven whore," he said. "You had so much potential. Keep humping, this is what you deserve."

Sylvia squirmed harder and faster, her body felt desperate for release and chased after it.

She felt excited, feeling the wave of pleasure coming toward her.

The High Chancellor smiled, and with a tap of his index finger, the pleasure stopped.

Sylvia cried out. "What? No!"

The belt sprung back to life, locking itself around her, returning to iron, she humped feebly and felt nothing. Still draped over him, she twisted and looked back, "Please, High Chancellor, Sir. Please, I want to be a good girl, I want to be pure, I will do anything. Please, let me continue, Sir, please, let me out of the belt. I will be a good girl, I learned my lesson."

"No." He said simply. "You will return to me tomorrow."

Sylvia returned to him each day in the early evening. After her classes, after the whole of the coven quieted down, when she could undress in front of him. When she could be over his lap and receive the spanking she deserved and each time she would get that brief escape from the belt, where her cunt would drip freely.  

She humped with lust. Faster, harder, and more desperately by the day. Sylvia was deprived of release each session, but still she begged for it.  

Sylvia implored the High Chancellor to forgive her, to show mercy, to let her cum, but he would not budge, she would not cum, she would be purified.

Sylvia heard a soft dribble like chalk against a wall.  

She drifted out of fevered, hornied sleep.  

The creature was outside her window, hanging upside down as he liked to do, watching her sleep, watching her breasts rise and fall with each delicate breath.  

She opened her dreamy eyes and met his stare, his shadowed face resolute like a grave.  

Her creature.  

She hadn't seen him since the night that led to her failed quarterly inspection. Her feelings had grown complicated. Her bliss of that moment corrupted.

Again he tapped upon the glass, his pointed nail etched into the surface.

Sylvia got out of bed and opened her window, standing there with a stern face and arms crossed to hide her nipples in her evening gown.

"Where have you been?" She asked.

The creature spoke, but remained in place, "What have they done to you, Sylvia?"

She stamped her bare foot at him. "I asked you a question, Creature. Where have you been?"

"I had matters to attend to." 

He slipped in like a shadow, transforming into man, and rising from the floor in front of her.  

He placed his hands upon her shoulders.  

She tried to shrug them off, but his hands stayed there.  

"I'm mad at you," she grumbled.

"My Sylvia," he said.

He uncrossed her arms and held her wrists. "No," she cried. "I am no longer pure to them. I am punished. Scolded, everyday."

He held her against his chest, his hands gently cupped and supported her body at the hip and the back. Sylvia softly struggled in his arms, the lock of the chastity belt jingled. Her face smooshed into the gap of his buttoned shirt and her lungs filled with the smell of man and creature.  

"My Sylvia," he said again. "Now, let me look at what they've done to you."

The creature removed the thin gown she wore. The soft fabric floated to the floor.

"A chastity belt," he laughed, a deep, dark, rumbling laugh. "Poor, little, Sylvia," he said.  

He turned her to the side to examine her bottom.

"What's this?" He asked.

Images of her staring at the floor while humping the High Chancellor's hand like a dog ran wild in her mind, projected and plastered to be seen by eyes open or not.

"I told you. Punished and scolded every day."

"Poor thing, you are all marked up."

She twitched her nose at him with a sniffle, "Can you help me? Save me?"

"I can... but," he pondered, "I'll need to do some research, it will take time, and even then I don't know if it can be done. It may even be better to go direct to the source of the incantation."

"The High Chancellor."

"Yes, it may very well come to that."

Sylvia had only felt the hands of the High Chancellor, almost every day, since the chastity started. "I want you," she said softly, nuzzling her face into his firm, solid chest, filling her lungs with his smell.

He constricted his dark arms around her and she melted under his hold, waiting for the ravage.

He lifted her up, bringing their noses together. "What a desperate little coven girl," he said. "Hmm, you are all locked up. I wonder what we can even get into."

"I can suck your cock," she said brightly and sharply, batting her lashes at him.

He laughed and set her down, "That would be too easy."

"What?" She asked, confused and excitedly scared.

"Kneel."

She made a cross face and kneeled.

"Where is your wand?"

"On my desk," she said, buttering him up, fluttering her dumb, doe-eyed, dopey eyes at him. "I have been meaning to ask, should I call you something?"

"No," he said firmly. "Creature is fine for now, Sylvia." He grabbed her wand and resumed his stance, standing in front of her while she knelt and looked up at him. "Open your mouth."

"Yes, Creature."

Her tongue lolled out, and he placed the tip of her wand to the tip of her tongue, making her strain and stretch for a full lick. He held her down by the shoulder to keep her in her place.  

"Easy, girl," he said, and wagged the wand in front of her face.

She licked and stretched and licked, feeling flush and warm in the face and in the locked-up cunt.

"So desperate."

Drool dripped off her tongue and out the corners of her mouth, landing on her thighs.

"What a good, drooly, salivating girl. You want my cock, don't you?"

She pulled her tongue in to say, "Yes, Creature," and went back to licking at the wand tip, trying her best to wrap her lips around it, but he kept pulling it away keeping her deprived of mouth pleasures.

He tossed her wand to the bed, the useless scrap of wood it was, and grabbed the back of her head, letting her feel the tension on her hair, the slight pain that said his grip was there, iron, and unflinching.

He took his index and middle finger, fixing them together and making a partial fist to hide the rest. He held them in front of her nose, letting her whimper with little pathetic sounds.  

The creature pulled her hair taut, and dangled his two big fingers right in front of her gaping, open mouth and her smart nose that lusted for his scent, his smell of man, the smell that said he owned her, the smell that signified his immense power over her.

He guided his fingers into her mouth, and she sucked on them. Her tongue licked the underside as they hung out of her mouth, and her top lip provided a half suction suck, more desperate and pathetic looking than useful.

"What a desperate little coven girl. How embarrassing. Don't you know coven girls are supposed to be pure? Isn't that what you are known for? Your purity, your chaste values, your powers. Where is your wand? Just look at you, kneeling and sucking on my fingers like a needy coven toy. Would you like cock for real now?"

"Yesh, Creashure," she said, burbling and mumbling onto his fingers.

He popped his two chunky fingers out of her dainty mouth.

"Beg," he ordered.  

She looked into his dark eyes and got shy and quiet.

He jerked her head so her mouth faced upward. He leaned over her, lining his mouth up with hers. He spoke slowly, "Open. Your. Mouth." 

She opened.  

The creature spit into her mouth.

She flinched out of shock, let out a little yelp and a scream. Her eyes went wide, feeling stunned, and taken, and put in her place.  

"Beg," he said again.

"Please, Creature, I need it." She stuck her tongue out and whimpered, "Please," she begged. "Let me suck that big fat cock of yours." She giggled, "My mouth is yours to use, Creature."

"Good coven girl," he said, and unbuttoned his trousers, placing his big flopping cock and balls in front of her.  

Heavy and hung and growing.

She caressed his balls, making them move gently in her hand like fleshy oversized orbs. She kissed the head of his penis, pushing the foreskin back with her lips and sucking the head in short catlike bursts.

"Good coven girl," he said again, the depth of pleasure reverberating in his voice.

He pulled her head forward, forcing her to take the growing shaft into her mouth and down her throat, she gagged and burped, spitting his cock out, her eyes looking apologetic.  

"Sorry," she said.

The creature leaned over, bent down and swatted her bare bottom. One, two, three, four, five, ten, twenty times until she said ow, ow, ow in rapid succession and the tinge of red flushed over her rump.

He offered his swollen cock again. Her mouth spread and gaped and spurted as she attempted to envelop the fat penis.

She sucked eagerly, moving her lips up and down the shaft, using one hand to grip and gently stroke the base, and the other to tease his swollen, hanging balls.  

Thoughts of his big fucking balls slapping into her pussy the last time he took her ass flooded her mind. It was glorious anal sex, and she craved being taken by him again.

It made her want him to notice her ass more. She wanted him to follow his lust and free her from chastity and take her sweet, coven-owned ass again. To stretch, to fill. Using all of his man-creature-seed to corrupt her, the sweet coven girl who took a vow of purity, who signed up to become a sacrifice. And now she sucked and sucked on his fat cock, wanting more, and more, and more.

Sylvia sucked deeper, as far as she could go. She couldn't take the full length into her mouth, not even close, but still she tried desperately.

His grip on her head loosened, and that is how she knew she was doing well.

His head tipped back in pleasure. He moaned deeply and softly.

There was a slight sway to his knees as they loosened at the hinge.

His mouth opened.

His teeth grew long and sharp.

His hips swung all the way forward and he pumped several large loads of cum into her mouth, making her eyes go wide again as she struggled to swallow fast enough to keep up with his big throbbing dick that fed her like the good little coven girl she was.