- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 1: The Breaking Point – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 2: The Morning After – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 3: The Empty House – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 4: The Stranger’s Den – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 5: The Ritual Revealed – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 6: The Forest Gathering – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 7: The Family Bond – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 8: The Outsider’s Game – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 9: The Mother’s Shadow – by Aarav Anthem
- Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 10: The Brother’s Burden – by Aarav Anthem
Beneath the Shadow of Sin – Chapter 6: The Forest Gathering – by Aarav Anthem
Ethan’s breath fogged in the crisp night air as he trudged through the dense forest, the crunch of pine needles under his boots the only sound besides Marcus’s steady footsteps ahead. His grandfather, Richard, followed behind, his presence a quiet but heavy weight. The “camping trip” Marcus had promised was a lie, Ethan knew it the moment they left the city, the truck loaded with little more than a cooler of beer and a duffel bag that clinked with metal. Now, miles from civilization, Ethan’s gut twisted with dread, the journal’s words echoing in his mind: blood and seed, father to son.
The cabin was a squat, weathered structure nestled in a clearing, its windows glowing faintly. Marcus pushed the door open, revealing a sparse interior—wooden floors, a stone fireplace, and a table cluttered with bottles. Richard, a wiry man in his sixties with Marcus’s green eyes and a stern jaw, set the duffel bag down with a thud. “Get comfortable, Ethan,” he said, his voice gruff but tinged with something eager. “Big night ahead.”
Ethan’s skin prickled as Marcus clapped a hand on his shoulder, steering him toward the door. “We ain’t staying here,” Marcus said, his smirk sharp in the firelight. “Real fun’s outside.” He grabbed a lantern, and they headed deeper into the woods, the trees closing in like silent witnesses.
The clearing they reached was wide, ringed by torches that cast flickering shadows. A dozen men stood waiting, their faces half-hidden in the gloom—Jack was there, his shaved head gleaming, alongside others Ethan didn’t recognize, their eyes glinting with hunger. A crude altar of stacked stones stood at the center, draped with a dark cloth. Ethan’s heart pounded, the journal’s ritual coming to life before him.
“Strip,” Marcus ordered, his voice cutting through the night. Ethan hesitated, his eyes darting to Richard, to Jack, to the strangers. Marcus stepped close, his hand gripping Ethan’s jaw. “Don’t make me ask twice, kid.” His tone was calm but laced with threat, and Ethan’s hands moved on their own, shedding his jacket, shirt, and jeans until he stood naked, the cold air biting his skin.
The men murmured, their gazes heavy, and Ethan’s face burned with shame. Richard stepped forward, his own clothes half-unbuttoned, revealing a scarred, wiry chest. “You’re part of something ancient, Ethan,” he said, his voice reverent. “Tonight, you bind us all.” He gestured to the altar, and Marcus’s hands guided Ethan toward it, firm and unyielding.
Ethan’s knees hit the cloth-covered stone, the surface rough against his skin. Marcus stood before him, unbuckling his belt, his cock already hard as it sprang free. “Start with me,” he said, his voice low and commanding. Ethan’s mouth opened, taking Marcus in, the familiar taste of musk and salt grounding him in the chaos. The men closed in, their boots scuffing the dirt, their hands shedding clothes.
Jack was next, his thick cock brushing Ethan’s cheek as Marcus pulled back. “My turn, kid,” Jack growled, thrusting into Ethan’s mouth with a force that made him gag. Richard’s hands were on Ethan’s shoulders, steadying him, and Ethan felt the older man’s cock press against his back, hot and insistent. The air was thick with groans, the scent of sweat and earth, the torchlight blurring into a haze.
Hands roamed Ethan’s body—rough, calloused, some gentle, some cruel. Someone spread his thighs, fingers slick with oil probing him, stretching him open. Ethan moaned around Jack’s cock, his body trembling as the fingers were replaced by a cock—Richard’s, he realized, the man’s voice a low chant in his ear. “Good boy,” Richard murmured, his thrusts slow but deep, each one driving Ethan forward onto Jack.
Marcus watched, his eyes dark with pride, his hand stroking his cock as he circled the altar. “Look at you,” he said, his voice carrying over the grunts and gasps. “Taking us all, just like you’re meant to.” He stepped behind Ethan, nudging Richard aside, and entered him in one swift motion, the stretch overwhelming. Ethan cried out, the sound muffled by Jack, his body rocking between the two men.
The others joined, a blur of bodies and hands. One man knelt before Ethan, sucking his cock, while another pressed against his side, jerking himself off. Ethan’s mind fractured, the sensations too much—pain, pleasure, shame, and a primal thrill that made his blood sing. The curse was alive here, in the sweat and seed, the men’s voices rising in a wordless chant that echoed through the trees.
Jack came first, his cum flooding Ethan’s mouth, thick and bitter. Ethan swallowed, his throat burning, as Richard’s thrusts grew erratic, the older man spilling inside him with a groan. Marcus’s pace quickened, his hands bruising Ethan’s hips, and he came with a roar, his release hot and deep. The others followed, one by one, their cum painting Ethan’s skin, his body a canvas for their ritual.
Ethan’s own orgasm hit like a storm, his cock pulsing in the stranger’s mouth, his vision white-hot. He collapsed onto the altar, his body trembling, the men’s voices fading into a low hum. Marcus knelt beside him, his hand gentle for once, brushing Ethan’s sweat-soaked hair from his face. “You did good, kid,” he said, his voice soft but possessive. “You’re one of us now.”
Richard handed Ethan a cloth to clean himself, his expression unreadable. “The pact’s stronger with you,” he said, his voice heavy with meaning. The men dispersed, some clapping Marcus on the back, others casting lingering glances at Ethan. Jack lingered, his grin sharp. “Hell of a show, kid. Can’t wait for the next one.”
Back at the cabin, Ethan sat by the fire, wrapped in a blanket, his body aching, his mind numb. Marcus and Richard drank in silence, their eyes occasionally meeting Ethan’s, a shared understanding that made his skin crawl. The journal’s words felt burned into him now, the curse no longer a story but a living force, binding him to these men, to this legacy.
As dawn broke, Marcus drove them back, his hand on Ethan’s thigh, a silent claim. “You felt it out there, didn’t you?” he said, his voice low. “The power. It’s in you now, kid. No going back.” Ethan stared out the window, the forest blurring past, his reflection in the glass a stranger’s face. He wanted to deny it, to scream, but the heat in his blood, the echo of the men’s touch, told him Marcus was right.
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