The sandal fell on the tiny man with inhuman speed- it would've been like being hit by a freight train, if he had any inkling of what those things were.

The Virgin heard his minuscule bones crunch underfoot, and she twisted her foot while shifting her weight on it. Any hard bone or organs that had been left over from the initial stomp was ground out, flattening the man completely into the hard wooden floor. 

The woman being held by the Virgin, a stout and hardy thing, shook violently, unable to comprehend the information she was seeing. Very rarely had she ever been scared like this, but this time may well have been the worse. And, in all likelihood, probably her last she knew.

She watched the Virgin ground out the tiny man underfoot. The man was someone she had known, very briefly, as they had coupled once. He had no real attachment to the man, but seeing a once squeeze literally squeezed to death was disturbing to say the least. 

The Virgin finished her dark work with a final twist of her foot, biting her lip slightly. The woman trembled even further when the Virgin's eyes lighted upon her, the captive.

For a split second, the woman was unsure what would happen, and the trembling stopped. She had seen what she'd done to the others- many crushed underfoot, some under her hands. A couple on the bed she sat on, bringing her tremendous assets down on the screaming survivors of the first carnage.

In the end, she did none of that. She only smiled at the woman, curiously. The woman in her hand felt someone between fear and puzzlement, but her wonder was only short lived- she felt the two fingers squeeze harder and harder, but not to the point of breakage- but goddess damn them all, did it hurt!

The pain was so great that the tiny woman did not see the other hand come up, her finger cocked and ready like a pistol. She felt a great rush of vacuum, air displaced, and she was hit by a train. Everything whitened in her eyes, and she realized that she was flying... But something was wrong. Very wrong. Her neck was screaming, and she felt so much lighter, as if the flight was something new to her, but more freeing.

The stop came very abruptly, in the bed in fact, but even that was strange- only her head seemed to hurt. As she realized that she was rolling on, unimpeded by any limbs or torsos, she got a glimpse of the giantess who had held her.

And she was still, it seemed, holding her body. She blacked out, never to wake. 

---------------------------------

The Virgin was disappointed- the woman's head hadn't flown very far when she flicked it. 

Still, it had been interesting enough to do. She dropped the now bleeding body, letting it crash on to the floor beneath unceremoniously. 

She sucked the blood off of her fingers, enjoying the salty savor of the red life. Surely the tiny woman wouldn't mind. As she licked her lips, leaving a smidgen of red across her pink, she surveyed the room once more. Not but a few left. She could finish soon.

When she had first entered the room, most of the remainder of the group had been in a small clump in the center of the room, some on their knees and  praying, others supine and even some of those on top of them, thrusting or receiving. 

It had been absurdly easy to get rid of most of them- she got in two stomps before they scattered like leaves in the wind. Before she scampered off to chase them, she noticed that they were huddled around a piece of her clothing- her initial footfalls hadn't been in the center of the groups, but the sides instead. She noticed that they were crowded around a woman on top of the clothing. After chasing down and crushing the life out of most of them, she only then glanced back. She couldn't see very well, not in this light. However, it didn't look like she was going anywhere, so she could afford to take her time, it seemed.

She did so, crushing many underfoot, a couple on her bed under her ass, and not but a few under the spectacular hammer she had brought. She was methodical, taking her time. She found, with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction, that she was enjoying herself. She found herself grinding her teeth as she ground her foot on someone, ending their life. She was... Angry. Sad. Furious. Emotional. She was a lot of things, but mostly, she was sure that everyone was going to die.

One was trying to run, and she giggled when she backed him into a corner. He got on his knees and started to pray to her, begging her through gross sobs to not kill him. The Virgin ended him quickly, crushing him underfoot. She didn't want him to suffer any longer than necessary. 

I'm not a monster after all, she thought to herself, scraping his viscera off her sandal. 

At last, it was done. She was about to turn and grab her phone when she heard a small croak. The woman! On top of the clothing she had noticed! She sauntered over to where the croak came from, her footsteps, even to her, sounding sonorous on the ground.

Doom. Doooom. Dooooooom.

She placed both her feet to flank the woman on both sides, noting how enormous either looked in comparison- the woman, all cracked and bent and bleeding, was no larger than the Virgin's small toe. 

She bent down, squatting to get a closer look at the woman. She gasped in surprise as it dawned on her that the woman was the very same crone that lorded over her at the beginning of tonight. In her panic while leaving the bedroom, she hadn't taken note of what happened to the occupants of the tower they'd built on her neck. It toppled over, she might surmise, but as to the occupants... 

She supposed one of them had fallen down all the way here.

The Virgin sat there thinking for a minute, hovering over the little body. She was about to stand up and go grab a trash bag when... Movement. She froze, mid rise. The night air seemed to chill also, white moonlight seeping in. 

Again. Movement, right below her. 

The tiny woman was still alive.

Getting to her hands and knees, the Virgin held her face slightly above the withered old thing. 

Haggard breathing. Raspy, faint, but there nonetheless. 

The priestess was alive! 

As if on cue, the tiny woman coughed, and a fine spray of blood found itself across the floor. 

She was alive, but not for long it seemed. 

"You're alive," said the Virgin, "are you okay?" 

A stupid question, she thought.

"Everyone's gone," she added, as if it mattered. How little emotion attached to that phrase unnerved her- it was like telling someone that they came too late to the party of that they were out of dish soap. The detachment the was on some level horrifying in the extreme but that part of her was still pushed out, out along with any self-doubt or remorse. Still, she bent over, concerning for this little woman almost out of habit. Out of nature. 

Funny, considering her nature had flew out the window this evening.

The tiny woman turned her head slowly up at the thundering voice above, that of a goddess. She knew instinctively that it was the Virgin she had sought, but she looked upon her anyway. She felt the wisps of air that were generated by the dangling hair above, pulsating softly with each shift in pressure. Her own wisps of hair on her whitened head twitch violently- it reminded her that any movement from these giants were torments for folk of her kind. Such a disparity. Such a difference. 

"Verily," she croaked, "such trial."

The Virgin piqued her ears at this.

"What was that?" She softly spoke, bending down again ever so slightly. The priestess coughed again, this time covering only barely with her hand, blood still crying from the ground. 

The priestess said something again, but it was nearly inaudible. Tired of straining, the Virgin reached down and ever so gently scooped up the remains of the woman. The diminutive priestesshood cried aloud in pain, but the Virgin paid no mind. She stood with her passenger now in hand, and brought her to her face. 

Now level, without the hindrance of having to be looked down upon, the Virgin took a long look at the crone.

She was ancient, in a word. Wizened and white. Skin spots and laugh lines. Crows feet. Anything polar to youth resided in this decrepit hollow. If death had a grandmother. 

The Virgin reflected for a moment, thinking back. Not hours ago. She... She knew it had been a group effort, what had happened to her. This old bitch didn't solely tie her down on her lonesome, pass ropes trough her toes, slice the throat of some young girl to dribble her blood into her open mouth. She didn't do all of that herself. And yet...

And yet. Here she was, the head of it.

The Virgin flipped the woman around in her fingers, gripping her on her sides between thumb and fore, on either side of the chest. She brought her close, close to let her breath wash over the broken thing. 

"I couldn't hear you. But I think you're still alive," she said, her eyes looking her captive up and down. A huge surge of emotion sweltered through her. Part of her just wanted to squeeze her hand then be done with it. The other part of her wanted to drag it out. Another part of her, much lower than her brain, wanted to consume her.

She felt her fingers grow tighter around the woman.

“Not for long, anyhow.”

The tiny priestess let out a croak. She struggled to loosen her arms from the vice and put them on the two digits that held her captive, her feet wagging limply under her like a soft paddle. Crimson leaked out of the corners of her mouth, the occasional cough letting even more spill out ot the front of her barebones ceremonial gown. It was soaked in blood, very likely her own. Then again…

“Well,” the Virgin began with a smirk, “looks like you’ve got your fair share of blood running down your front also, you little shit.” The smirk snuck to a grin. “Pretty ironic considering what you did to that girl earlier on. Tell me,” she boomed, bringing her finger to the side of her head to rest upon, “should I throw you to your little red-eyed demons as well? But oh!” She began, placing her hand over her mouth, mocking a shock, “they’re all gone.”

The Virgin shook her head, clicking her tongue at her in a mockery. 

“Guess you might just have to join them under my feet. That’s where most of them ended up anyways.” She absentmindedly ran a free finger on the skin of her stomach.

“H… H…”

“Hmm? What was that?” The Virgin brought her up to her ear to listen.

“Hon…. Honored... sa…sacrif… ce.”

It took a second before the word rooted and fully revealed itself to the Virgin. She wished that it hadn’t. The idea took hold of her, and made her heart palpitate. It was coming back to her, the red. She clenched her jaw, let the maggots swarm in her stomach. Honored sacrifice. The tiny, screaming woman that had her throat slit was the honored sacrifice.

The Virgin swallowed, preparing herself to say what she wanted. 

“Sacrifice. For me?” She let the words hang in the still air. “Or you?”

The priestess coughed again, spraying blood on the Virgin’s fingers. 

“The…” she grimaced, gritting her gums and what remained of her teeth. In a frenzy, she lifted her arms to the sky, to the moon, the sun, to death.

“Goddess!”

The Virgin swore that she had heard an echo. Not just in the room, but… everywhere. Everyone. Every…how. 

“Your goddess…” The Virgin said, lowering her head. “Your goddess. I’ve seen what your goddess can do. She can’t protect any of you. If your goddess can’t hear you, maybe she’s away on vacation, or maybe she’s sleeping.”

She looked back up at the priestess, who had fallen from her confession. Once more a tiny mouse of a woman, no longer the prophetess of blood and thunder. And by the great Gaea, did the tiny woman feel it! The Virgin's visage, naturally soft and round, became hardened and not unlike the scriptural account. Where once a young and pretty face was now was plastered a wrathful, vengeful spirit- eyes narrowed and filled with fire and tears. The mouth clenched and teeth made bare. She could not prove it, but yea, she could testify and would for the rest of her life, the light of godhood shined in the Virgin's eyes!

The priestess was overcome.

Surely this was the goddess incarnate come to reclaim her people! An aura of light haloed her head and face, fire blazed down from the heavens! Holy holy holy was she, queen of all the earth and heavens, the earth her throne, its inhabitants her footstools.

Thus saith the Lady her Goddess,

"Your goddess is nothing! She's powerless to help you... powerless. Don't you know, little one?

The Virgin stood to her full height, the rush of air pushing the tiny priestess down. There she stood, a colossus, and the priestess could not peel her eyes away. 

"I," she began, regally, terrifyingly, the words echoing, "am your goddess."

The priestess trembled. Converted was she.

"And I control your life and death. You've done a lot of terrible things," she confessed, "and you deserve to pay for your sins." 

Her eyes were still filled with that fire divine. The tears, however, had dried some.

"And vengeance is mine. You're going to pay for what you've done to me and those others." 

The Virgin sauntered over to the desk where she pulled the chair towards her. She batted off her slippers from the cushion and sat down to it, still holding the priestess in a vice grip.

"Now, as I recall," she cooed, shifting to a more comfortable position, "you were trying very hard to get into me. Not even with my permission!"

She spread her legs, exposing herself and feeling the cool rush of air flow up into her. She was still dripping and wet from the events of that evening. She realized, even now, that she had a... Need. A need that ached and pronged her. A desire that she'd never explored before, not even with that other tiny woman. Never once had she known man or woman, and her family had expressly forbidden it while she was younger, even the exploration of herself with her fingers. Carnal knowledge was a mystery to her, something reserved for holy matrimony. The Virgin, by combination of environment and her own self-restriction, had never experienced the joy of release.

But she wasn't the Virgin anymore, not tonight. 

She was the Goddess.

"But now, you little cunt, you have my permission. You can enter me... But only with my help."

The Goddess began, bringing the tiny woman down to her exposed womanhood. She began to rub her softly on her clitoris, stimulating and breathing sharp, soft inhales from her. She closed her eyes, feeling the build up.

"Mine goddess, nay..." Came the protest. 

The Goddess heard her but continued- she continued to keep her eyes closed, a lovely little smile on her lips. Moaning, she spoke, "but this is what you wanted...? Mmmmmg..."

The rubbing became faster, and the priestess found strength in her arms to start beating and grabbing for the fingers that held her captive, but it was only so futile- they were barely felt, and did nothing. 

It continued. The Goddess bit her lip, feeling the build-up rise another level. She'd never gotten this far in pleasuring herself prior to.

Then again, she wasn’t completely alone, was she?

The priestess was full-on struggling, finding it harder and harder to breathe. She had in only a very few times felt such panic before. She began to cry, flailing and wailing her arms about, trying to punch and kick and grab whatever pieces or folds of flesh were available. The Goddess only intensified her moaning, half-screaming, "oh god, oh my god yes, please keep doing that!" 

It was almost a few breathes every thirty seconds now, and the priestess' vision blurred. The lights dazzled in and out and played across her vision. It was getting harder and harder to control her body.

She could barely keep conscious.

The Goddess, however, paid no heed to the cries below. In her mind the fireworks and lights danced across her vision as well, but they showed such a different picture. She couldn’t keep her toes from wiggling in her sandals, and she flexed her legs inwardly. She pressed, harder and harder, the woman onto her clitoris, stroking herself into oblivion.

She nearly crested, reaching another plateau- her body flooded with endorphins from her spine to her extremities, and the Goddess shuddered with ecstasy. She shifted her helper lower, engulfing her into between the labia minora- she was briefly, although distantly, aware that someone had died in there. She wondered, brokenly, if the priestess she now abused (yes, she knew- she’d have no illusions, she decided) knew that the gunk that covered her was part of her entourage. She thrusted her deeply- a few inches in. The nerve endings screamed inside of her, lavished by the wrigglings of the nearly unconscious woman.

The Goddess flexed, and felt the walls close in on her fingers and play thing. She pulled her out, slowly, letting her extremities tickle her.

She was nearly there.

The priestess could take no more- she struggled to stay awake but it was oh so hard. Her broken bones screamed and she continued to cough up the bloody mucus. Gathering her strength, she let out a cry, desperately calling for mercy.

It fell on deaf ears.

In she went again, clawing at the sides of her captor’s wet box. The Goddess began to thrust her inside and out, pulling her up and out, sliding her inside while brushing softly her clitoris.

Then, without any warning, it happened- something touched right or the neurons fired a certain way, but there it was. A shock ran through the Goddess as she orgasmed- the world went white and her breaths came shuddering and fast. Her toes curled, digging into the soft leather of her sandals. It grew, grew, grew- she was one with the universe, nothing else mattered- she was a giant, a tiny insect, a queen, a goddess- all of it! Rainbows graced her vision and she couldn’t help but smile in complete and raw ecstasy. She peaked, peaked, peaked- and she never felt as though she might come back down. Her neck and back arched, towards the heavens, a prayer to whatever might be listening.

Her pussy tightened on the woman who was still inside and she pinched her fingers, crushing her and bursting her like a ripe melon. It squirted out and past her fingers onto the floor below, staining a shirt she had left below- the last trace of person who called the sacred feminine their tomb. After what seemed like glorious, heavenly hours of climax, the Goddess fluttered back down on a chariot of clouds to the mortal realm. Blood, discharge, and gore seeped out from her womanhood, eeking out between her fingers and the walls. The priestess, completely eviscerated, was no more.

The Virgin pulled her fingers out of her soaking cunt, seeing the blood mingle with the discharge. She gave it a small lick as her eyes fluttered closed. The light was pouring into the window, the first fingers of dawn making their way into the room. The Goddess could reach her phone to check the time, call for help, but…

What was the point? It was over.

The realization was not bitter or sad- she was glad to be done, but like after any orgasm, she had no idea what to do. She was spent, she knew, and sleep would come.

And when it did, it found her bloody and smiling and content and glorious.