72 comments/ 72354 views/ 18 favorites The Rite By: StangStar06 Hey folks, I'm surprised that so many of you liked last week's story. That only means that a lot of you probably won't like this one. But it's fine. As I warned you guys a few weeks ago I'm on a storyteller's vacation. For a few weeks I just wanted to throw some crazy ideas out there and get away from the typical "I came home and she was screwing the neighbor" stories. Don't get me wrong, those stories are the bread and butter of LW. We all love them. They're real and there's power in a situation that any and all of us could experience. The masters of this genre, guys like DQS1, Rehnquist, JPB, SWMO hermit all do these stories so well that they've defined LW. Their stories are classics and will probably never be equalled. That's why the best of the newer generation of story tellers like CPete, Girl in the moon, AA Nemo, Saxon Hart, FD45, Brit tease, UKresearcher and so many others including me have to try to stretch occasionally to make a name for ourselves when compared with those giants. This story is a little bit crazy and I admit I stole the idea from a movie that hasn't come out yet. To make this worse, this week I didn't have the benefit of having my usual ace editor guarding my back, and I really miss her. So expect, bad grammar, terrible punctuation and a lot of fuck ups. SS06 * * * * * * As I walked towards my work station a couple of the guys in the office tried to engage me in their conversation. I'm not a big talker. But, failure to participate in the typical office bullshit can sometimes be more costly than the few minutes you lose doing it. I also don't want to be thought of as the one guy in the office with a stick up his ass. So I joined in. "Hey, Tyler, are you excited about the Rite?" asked Perry Joseph, one of my few close friends at the design firm I worked at." "I guess," I said nonchalantly. "Yeah I guess the thought of some other guy porking your wife does take the thrill out of it for you married guys," he said. "Bullshit," spat Kramer. Kramer whose last name was also Joseph wasn't related to Perry. "I'm married and I love the Rite. I love both the Spring Rite and the Fall Ritual. They're the best fucking times of the year." "Shit, for a guy as ugly as you are," chimed in Whitford Bradly from across the room. "They're probably the only two times when you can get laid, married or not." I used the laughter that followed as my chance to escape the conversation and get back to work. The real truth of things was that I hated what would happen this Saturday night with a passion. I always had. I saw the Rite of Spring and the Fall Ritual as being the worst examples of how far we as a society had fallen. It had all started back in the early part of the century. In 2015 a year synonymous with bizarre changes, the divorce rate in America had finally surpassed the 50% margin. That was a very bad thing because it meant that marriage in our country was less than a gamble. It meant that the odds of a successful marriage were less than one out of two. People simply stopped getting married at all. That led to a decline in families and a decline in the number of children being born and overall morality also seemed to decline sharply. No one gave a shit about anything anymore. America became a place where people spent millions of dollars to maintain a perfect online appearance, but in reality they didn't look anything like their carefully composed social media profiles. A woman, who online appeared to be a paragon of virtue, might be in real life giving blow jobs on the street. People paid far more money to be photographed wearing a famous designer brand so the pictures could put on their facebook page than the items actually cost. It didn't matter that they didn't actually own the items, it was only important that they be seen wearing, using or driving them. Congress took a strong look at marriage. Several famous scientists and committees were paid outrageous fees to come up with studies that detailed the factors responsible for the breakdown of the family and morality. It all came down to one three letter word; S-E-X. Hormone driven sexual attraction was the main reason a lot of couples got together in the first place. Pleasant regular sex kept them together and bred children. Sexual boredom led to a lack of interest in both sex and the relationships. It also led to infidelity and divorces. Congress mulled it over and asked for solutions. It took a while, but twenty years ago in 2020 we first started the Rites. The term "Rite," came from the Pagan ceremony, the Great Rite and bears no resemblance or similarity to any Pagan ceremony or any fertility ritual of any religion or society before us. The Rites are more akin to a correction or a balancing maneuver than anything else. It's like the difference between our calendar and the true solar cycle. Since our Calendar is off by a few hours each year, every fourth year we have to add a day. The Rites balance out the fact that most people are simply not honorable, moral people no matter how many rules or laws we enact. So twice a year, we allow them to become morally ambiguous when it comes to sex. The Rite doesn't allow them to go out and commit crimes, but it does allow all adults to take a walk on the wild side when it comes to sex. Sex involving minors is still prohibited and is prosecuted severely, as in the death penalty, but almost anything else goes. Over the years the process has been fine-tuned until it is fair and equitable and it works for almost everyone. There are, as with most things some people who lobby against it but after twenty years, we've all come to accept it. Why would a supposedly enlightened society accept and embrace what amounts to a public orgy twice a year? That's easy. The only answer necessary is the fact that it works. And it actually works far better than expected. In fact over the twenty years that we've had the Rite, the divorce rate has reversed itself to the point that last year the divorce rate among married couples was only thirteen percent. Being divorced once again carries a stigma about it. People look at divorced men and women as failures. They're also legally required to post their status on any social media sites as divorced so any possible future partners both personal and professional know beforehand that the person seems unlikely to maintain partnerships. A lot of the things that tore marriages apart in the past have been if not ended, at least mitigated by the rite. Remember those cases where a man married a woman or vice versa, but was secretly or simply unknowingly fighting a same sex attraction? It doesn't matter now. Because of the rite, the closeted nonconventional can make the marriage work because twice a year he or she gets to go out and let their freak flag fly, and there are no repercussions to the marriage when they return on Sunday morning. Remember those women or men who sought sex outside of their marriages because they had sexual needs that their partners, no matter how much they loved them, couldn't or wouldn't satisfy? It doesn't matter because those men and or women can go out and become the biggest whores on the planet, twice a year and come home that night or the next morning with no harm done to their marriages. With the chance to legally go outside of their marriages and do whatever the fuck they want a couple of times a year most individuals are able to make marriages that seems like death sentences actually thrive. With the increase in the survivability of marriages, more marriages are producing children and the family unit has grown stronger and more connected. Society as a whole has benefitted from the increases in morality. It may in fact be the Rite that has saved America. Nothing of course is perfect and the Rite has brought on entire industries of specialists and companies that deal with the fallout from the few problems it has brought. Several laws have been enacted or strengthened as well. Then of course, there are always a few individuals who simply believe that the Rite, no matter how much good it does for society, is wrong. I guess, I'm one of those. As I stared at my computer screen, I tried to put all thoughts about the Rite, out of my mind. I was working on a computer assisted multi-port/multi-shot nitrous system. One of the problems with today's cars is the lack of passing power. Except for the late sixties, which was just before the oil crisis of the mid-seventies and of course my favorite time, the mid 00's through 2015, the government and wusses everywhere have been on a campaign to destroy cars. In the late nineteen sixties, which was the classic muscle era the auto manufacturers were in all out warfare. They produced car after car to try to gain dominance over a population that was in love with cars. The Camaro, the Challenger, the Charger, the GTO, the Firebird, the Barracuda, The road runner, the Electra 225, which was known on the streets of course, as the deuce and a quarter were all highly regarded as being in line for the crown that was worn by everyone's favorite Pony car, the Mustang. Performance was the driving force for all of these cars. The funny thing about it was that the formula worked. They weren't luxury cars they weren't packed with thousands of wasted dollars- worth of frills and bullshit. They were unabashed street rockets. They basically took a small car and stuck a big assed engine in it and watched them fly out of the dealerships and down the roads. The only thing that stopped the muscle car era was the oil embargo. Overnight it ground to a halt as Mr. and Mrs. America decided that with gas prices rising quickly, a huge engine that got 10 to 12 miles to the gallon wasn't necessarily a good thing. Ford basically turned its show pony into a gelding by releasing what was basically a rebadged pinto and calling it the Mustang II. I still cringe when I see one of those things in a car museum now. Ford did get their head out of their ass in the early eighties when they started with the Fox body Mustangs and started to chase performance again. But Muscles cars simply weren't selling and Ford had to go it alone as most of their competition dried up and disappeared. The Charger, the Challenger, the Camaro were all gone. Only the Mustang lasted and every year became more potent. Special versions and variants were there, but always on the fringe of a mainstream that seemed to prefer boring foreign made econo-boxes. Then in 2005 in a time when many thought the era of the muscle car was gone, when many expected Ford to simply bury the Mustang the way so many of their competitors had buried their muscle cars and tried to copy Europe, Ford said, "Fuck it." They put out a Mustang that looked like a Mustang and with that one shot, started the war all over again. GM and Chrysler quickly erected their barricades behind similar throwback versions of their own. For ten years high-tech retro versions of muscle cars with ridiculous amounts of horsepower ruled the streets. That was my favorite time. While everyone was whining about making the planet green, Ford and Carroll Shelby were putting out monstrous Mustangs with up to and over a thousand horsepower. Ford started the war and it took Ford to end it. The 2015 Mustang with its four cylinder ecoboost engine was more of a Mousetang. They may as well have called it the Mustang II jr. Nowadays the typical street car boasts a one or two cylinder turbo-boosted engine that usually puts out the equivalent horsepower of the lawn mowers from twenty years ago. With the Government standards mandating at least 75 miles to the gallon, these cars struggle to maintain the forty five mile per hour freeway standard. When we think back to the early part of the century when cars cruised the freeways at 70 and all of the horror that accidents at that speed caused, it's a wonder anyone survived. At least that's what they tell us. I still drive my classic car. It's a 2013 Boss 302. My car is midnight blue, with the white hockey stick stripes on the sides. The car is twenty seven years old and has over a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it. It only has that few on it because I don't drive it in the winters or when it rains. The car was built when I was fifteen years old. One of my uncles bought it brand new and treated it like a baby. When he died, he left it to me and I've kept up the tradition of babying the car. My wrist vibrates, letting me know that I have a phone call. I check my Apple iWatch and see that it's my wife Delphina calling me. I don't really have the time to speak to her, but since she or anyone else can access any camera anywhere in the world, I plaster a fake smile on my face and answer it. I stuck my thumb near my ear and my pinky in front of my mouth. Apple technology does the rest. Bone conduction turns my thumb into a sort of speaker and my pinky into a microphone, both of which carry signals to and from the Apple iWatch. "Hi Phina," I say trying my ass off to muster some degree of cheer. "Hello Honey," she says cheerfully back to me. Sometimes I can't tell whether her joy at speaking to me is as true as it seems to be or if she's manufacturing it like I am. "Is there anything special you want for dinner?" she asks. "Not that I can think of," I reply. "Okay, just checking," she says. I can hear the smile in her voice. Whether her cheer comes from really being happy or just because she's laughing at me, I really can't tell. "Hey, I thought I threw that shirt away," she says. "And whether I did or not, I'm sure I told you not to wear it anymore." "Are you watching me again?" I asked. "Of course I am," she replies. "I love you Tyler, I have to look at you every chance I get. You really should be used to it by now. We've been married for eighteen years so I'm sure you know everything there is to know about me." "Mm Hm," I reply absent mindedly while looking back at the 3-D drawing on my holographic screen." I actually do know everything there is to know about Delphina, including some things that she thinks I don't know. For instance I know that she's been cheating on me. It's the reason why she gets so God damned chipper twice a year. "And I know everything there is to know about you too," she gushed. "I hope we're always this happy, Tyler. And I know we will be. There isn't another person on the planet I love as much as I love you." I laughed then. I was thinking that she couldn't possibly know everything about me. If she had then she'd know that I've been quietly putting all of the information and facts I needed to go about divorcing her ass. "Tyler, you're smiling," she cooed. "Maybe we'll skip dinner tonight," she said. "Maybe we'll get right to the main event instead. Bye Honey, don't work too hard." Two hours later, I'm on the freeway. I slash in and out of traffic like a shark among halibut. My Boss with its side stripes stands out among the endless parade of smart cars. Almost all of the cars look the same. The only real differences in them are the colors, the comfort of the interiors and the number of apps. There are of course a few differences in what I call their "Lack of power trains." Some of the cars are all electric. Some are fuel cell vehicles. Some are hybrids of one type or another and some have very tiny gasoline engines. Most of the cars have that dawdling 45 mph top speed. There are a few sports cars here though that can top 50. My Boss can do over a hundred and fifty miles per hour even now, which is not only illegal but a felony. The professional race drivers in NASCAR don't go over 70 and they're doing it on a track. Maybe that's why no one watches it anymore. The kids all call it NAPCAR now. Suddenly the display on my car's dashboard goes red. I take my foot off of the gas slowing the car to 45. The built in radar, laser and photon detector tells me that I've been hit by three tracking lasers but none triggered. The beams had been deflected by several of the nearby smart cars before they hit me. Most of that is the fact that my car sits so much lower than the cars around it. I check all of my mirrors and finally spot the robotic police car. It cuts into and out of traffic until it gets next to me. I put my signal on and all of the smart cars around me make way. They're controlled by computers so they automatically shift lanes to allow me to make it to the side of the road. "Hello sir or madam as the case may be," says the robotic cop car through my car's entertainment console. "I have stopped you on this fine sunny, rainy, hot or cold day as the case may be to inform you that your vehicle is emanating a far greater degree of both tailpipe emissions and noise than is considered normal for a vehicle, especially one with only one occupant. We must do our part sir or madam to ensure that the planet is livable for future generations, don't you agree?" I felt like I was talking to a fucking toaster. "My car is an antique collectible," I said into the phone. "Check my license plate against the registry," I said politely while aiming my middle finger squarely at where the driver would be if there was one." "Oh yes, sir or madam as the case may be. You are correct. I should have scanned for this. My software is new. This situation will now be considered in future encounters. Have a nice day and happy motoring." "Holy shit," I thought. I'd been doing over a hundred and the cop pulls me over for my exhaust system. That was one of the problems with technology companies. During the early days there were so many different companies competing for contracts. By the first of the 21st century in terms of phones it was down to Apple and Android. Apple won by just buying out Android. To make sure there wasn't a monopoly Apple kept Android around. All of the good ideas were simply branded Apple and the stupid ones were Androids. That was the way it was with consumer electronics now. Government electronics were all done by Microsoft. They still continued to put out shitty software with lots of bugs whenever they wanted and forced it down everyone's throat. I waited until the cop car was gone and then continued for home. I kept it under eighty just to be safe. As I pulled into my driveway I noticed again how all of the houses in our subdivision seem to blend in with the landscape. They're all painted in earth tones and surrounded by what I consider to be fake trees. All of the trees are genetically modified so they don't grow taller than about fifteen feet. That way they produce a lot of good air and filter out noise and pollution, but they also don't block the sun's rays from our solar arrays. When I walk into the house, Delphina comes over and hugs me like I've been away for six weeks instead of my normal six hour work day. "You're late," she said. "I got pulled over by a cop," I told her. "Were you driving that gas guzzling, smoke belching monster you call a car again?" she asks smiling. "Yep," I said. She wrapped her arms around me and kisses me gently on my lips. "Then you probably should have expected it," she said. "Please tell me you weren't speeding again?" "They didn't catch me," I said. She looks shocked. "That thing doesn't have inertial dampeners," she said. "It's got those belts that cut into you and gas bags." "Air bags," I corrected her. "Don't they stop you by exploding in your face?" she asked. I nodded. "Kind of," I said. "Well air doesn't explode," she quips. "I don't know what they were thinking back then. Everything from that era was so violent." We spent the evening talking as usual and got onto the couch to watch some TV. We both thought that we'd possibly seen our daughter flash through the house and disappear into her room and then come back out wearing different clothes, but we couldn't be sure. Heidi, if it was her, rarely spent much time talking to us other than to tell us she loved us and ask for money in the same breath. The Rite Delphina slowly worked herself closer to me and then next to me. She snuggled herself under my arm and then started breathing on my neck. She looked me with her eyes all aglow and waited for me to make a move. I turned and looked into her eyes. She batted those huge eyes and smiled at me. "You do know that you don't have to be all nervous, right?" she smiled. "I mean this isn't like in college or when you were young. You don't have to plan anything out. You can do whatever you want to me. You have a 99.999% chance of getting some pussy." "I'm just..." I began. "I guess maybe we should wait until the Rite is over." "But why?" she asked, obviously upset. "What the hell does the Rite have to do with us? It's just some bullshit the government came up with to lower the divorce rate. Tomorrow evening you'll go out and have sex with some random woman. I'll have sex with some random guy. Ten minutes after it's over we'll come back home and just forget about it. It doesn't mean a God damned thing. We've been going through it since before we were ever married. It hasn't ever changed the way I feel about you." She was clearly angry. "Are you sorry you married me?" she asked. "Is that what this is about?" "Of course not," I spat. It was easy to say because it was true. "I married you because I loved you. I know there are a lot of people who get married either for the sake of being married and the stability it implies. And then there are people who get married simply for the tax breaks or the career benefits. But I married you because I loved you and wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." "And I love you too and we will," she said softly. I kept my face immobile hoping she couldn't read my thoughts. "I just don't see why this is happening. Everyone 18 and over has to participate in the Rite. Can you imagine how hard it has to be for lesbians and gay men? I mean, I'm sure they have some kind of system worked out for them too, but shit what if they didn't?" Her pretty face twisted in a wry smile. "My whole point is, Honey, we can't let what happens by law, two nights of the year ruin the other 363 days. The Rite has nothing to do with us. I have an idea for this time. Why don't we just go out as quickly as possible and do our duty to society. Let's just get it over with and then come back here and do our duty to each other. We'll take a long hot bath together and wash away all traces of what happened and then make slow and sexy love with each other. Let's just let the Rite be a warm up for us." God I wanted to believe her. My heart was pounding in my chest and telling me that she really meant this and that she believed it. But all of the evidence I had told me a different story. When I woke up the next morning, I watched her sleeping form beside me. Her body was almost too magical to exist. She was a tall slender woman with curves that just seemed impossible. And they were impossible. Her breast sculpturing was done with the new biofactured foam. They were so different from the way that implants used to be made. The foam could actually change size and density with a pill. In the old days women got implants that looked great in their twenties and thirties but either had to be removed when they got older or looked really stupid. I still look for pictures on the internet of women in their fifties and sixties with clearly fake breasts that rocket straight up from their chests with no sign of sag while the rest of their body looks like a sixty year old woman's. Or those pictures of women who have nearly Kardashian size asses while the rest of their body is wrinkled and thin. They start looking like a smart car towing a semi- trailer. But nowadays if you want your implants to shrink a bit, you take a pill. If you're not as fit as you once were and you don't need two huge ripped tits on your chest that appear out of place, you take a pill and the density of the foam in your breasts become softer and they actually appear to sag. So Delphine's big soft titties were exactly the right size and shape for a woman our age. Her long slender legs that seemed to always wrap themselves around me no matter where we were are probably one of my favorite parts on her body and they are totally natural. As I watched the rise and fall of her chest and the peaceful guileless expression on her face, I begin to wonder again. "What are you staring at?" she asks as her eyes pop open. "I wasn't staring," I sputter. She reaches for me instantly. "I've been awake for a while," she says smiling. "I just watched you with my eyes barely open so they looked closed. You were just sitting there staring at me, like you like me or something." "I've always thought of you as a work of art," I said quietly. "I guess if I had the chance, I'd look at you forever." She slapped me on the leg and started laughing. "This isn't a museum, Dummy," she said. "And if I was a piece of art, you are the owner of the museum. You don't have to just look at me. You can take me off of the wall and touch and kiss and fuck the art anytime you want, you know? If it was up to the art, we'd be doing that a lot more often. You know, the way we used to?" I nodded but it wasn't what I was thinking. I was thinking, "Yeah the way we did before I found out." "Let's go out for breakfast," she gushed. "I want to spend my morning, what's left of it, in a frilly little dress, walking around on the arm of my handsome husband." I had no plans for the day so that's what we did. We did breakfast at a restaurant that was a favorite of ours. It served real meat instead of the processed stuff. The only thing bad about it was the prices. Of course you had to take at least two fat burning pills after you left there or you'd gain weight for sure. Then we wandered around the water front, browsing through small stores while holding hands and giving each other the occasional small kiss. On days like this, the constant touching only served as foreplay and we'd go home and fuck each other's brains out. Apparently I wasn't the only one who'd had the thought. I felt Delphina's hand graze the front of my pants several times as we looked through the racks of clothing in one small store. "Wanna do it?" she whispered. I looked at her. "If not here, we could go home," she said. "Your daughter is probably up and out with her friends by now. We'd have the house to ourselves." "Aren't you forgetting what day this is?" I asked. She turned and glared at me and then walked out of the store, leaving me standing there. I left the store too and walked behind her letting her vent. She turned and gave it to me with both barrels as soon as we were far enough away from the stores and other people. "Do you have any idea how lucky we are?" she hissed. "We are blessed. You have a job where you make far more than enough money to take care of our needs. That's a blessing. I don't have to work. That too is a blessing. We have a beautiful home and a daughter who loves both of us. " My eyes narrowed a bit when she said that, because it started me to wondering something that I had never considered. I thought that I was fairly slick but she noticed it and her eyes questioned me. "In short, Tyler Stevens, we have an almost perfect life. We want for nothing. Even after all of these years I love you as much as the day we got married and..." she hesitated as my eyes narrowed again. I obviously was neither the actor not the liar that I thought I was. She seemed to sense almost every falsehood and doubt I felt or expressed. "Honey, don't let something that we can't control ruin our lives. You have a woman standing in front of you who would literally do anything for you. You are the best part of my life. And I know that you love me too. Why let the Rite ruin us?" she asked. "It's not like it's going to go away any time soon, Can I tell you something? I don't like it either. I hate the idea of you going out there and screwing some random woman. I especially hate it at times like these when you're not screwing me." "When I remember running around with my pussy sore almost constantly because you couldn't get enough of me and I loved you so much I just couldn't tell you no, I just shake my head. I want you even more now than I did then. I was younger then and I liked sex, but now I crave it and you aren't old enough that you've started to slow down," she said. "Is it me? Are you just tired of me? Am I not attractive enough anymore? Do you want me taller or shorter or thinner? Are my boobs not big enough? Are they too big? Do you want me to change my hair color or the length?" she asked. I shook my head. "If I were picking out a wife you'd be her," I said. "Then what is it?" she asked. "I don't know," I said. "I guess it's the Rite and..." Her eyes narrowed again. "How?" she said. "Once and for all explain this shit to me. How does the fucking Rite affect us? What the fuck does the Rite have to do with us?" "I'm getting older," I said. "Bullshit," she spat. "You run fucking marathons. You're in better shape than a lot of the guys in their twenties." "But my testosterone levels are a lot lower," I said. "So in order to perform well, I have to, you know, store some up." Her high pitched laughter was loud enough that people passing by on the streets look at her. "Oh my God," she laughed as she took my arm again. "Honey you have nothing to worry about. And even if you did, "Fuck the Rite." It has nothing to do with us. How many times do I have to say that? So what if you go out and meet some woman and just can't get it up for her. That's her tough assed luck. It's not like you're ever going to see her again. You're supposed to be more concerned with getting it up for me. I can't believe that you passed on making love with your own wife twice, so you could store up some sperm for some stranger." She laughed again and then ducked behind a tree grabbing my arm and pulling me with her. Once behind cover from prying eyes she grabbed my dick through my pants. "This belongs to me," she said, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Anything that comes out of it is supposed to go inside of me. Not into a condom in some stranger's vagina." She laughed again. "Do you know that all of this time, I was afraid that you didn't want to be with me anymore?" We went home and like she'd figured our daughter was out. That worried me, but Delphina was happy about it. "Okay, we're sticking to the plan we made last night," she said. "We go out and find the first available person, have meaningless sex with them and then come home and light each other's fire. I know that you don't want to do anything now, but just lie down with me and make me feel loved. Give me something to remind me what I'm coming home to." So we got into our bed and took a nap together. We wrapped our bodies around each other and she put my hands on her big soft titties while rubbing her perfectly sculptured ass against me. I was hard as rock until I remembered what she'd be doing in less than an hour. As it started to get dark outside, we got out of bed. We could hear the people outside yelling occasionally as some of them started copulating in the streets. I dressed and got my tag from the desk. The tags were issued by the government and had a bar code that gave information to the computers that tracked it. Every man got a tag. He gave it to the woman he had sex with. The women turned in the tags when they were finished and society moved forward. I hated the whole system. I'd given serious thought to simply moving to Canada several times. Not only did Canada not have the Rite, they refused to extradite people who were being prosecuted for violating it. From where I lived in Michigan, Canada was only a drive across a bridge away. Delphina smiled at me and then came back and hugged me again. I stood there like a statue. I didn't move away from her but I didn't return the hug. "Have fun," I said sarcastically. "What does that mean?" she asked looking at me. I just walked away from her. I really didn't know what to do. This wasn't working out the way it usually did. I got into my car hoping the loud exhaust system and the fact that the car was neither Earth friendly or economical would scare away most of the self-conscious women I ran into. I drove around watching people approaching each other and pairing off all over the city. I even saw people copulating in the streets. There were some very unusual sights. I saw an obviously filthy rich society woman down on all fours being fucked doggy style by a homeless man. She apparently loved every second of it. He stopped energetically pumping her. It looked like he was done. But she turned around and started sucking his dick trying to get him up again. On the next block, a huge body builder was lying on the ground in the street while a woman who had to be at least sixty bounced up and down on his erect member. Her eyes were rolled back into her head. I also saw one young woman servicing three guys. I wondered how the hell they handled the tags and whether she got three tags, or just one? After an hour there were women actually knocking on the windows of my car every time I stopped. I didn't know what to do. I hit the freeway and drove away from the city. This wasn't what I normally did. About ten miles outside of the town I stopped seeing people who'd pulled over to the side of the road to fuck other drivers. I pulled into a rest stop to get my thoughts together. I got out of the car hoping that if anyone pulled in here they'd assume that I was already with someone. This is one of the safest nights of the year. Any crimes committed during the rite, even simple assault or robbery carried the death penalty. I went into the small building and into one of the cubicles where travelers can get a quick nap before continuing their travels. I hid there in the darkness from all of the chaos going on back in the city. As I sat there alone with my thoughts, my watch vibrated. I switched it to holographic and the display appeared right in front of me. My PI was telling me that he'd gotten me the information I needed. Not that I needed any more. I played the edited video he'd sent me. It showed Delphina leaving our house and driving to a motel located a couple of miles away. She went right into a room on the outside of the motel. Amazing wasn't it, that she knew immediately where to go. My PI had footage from inside the room where my wife undressed for a man who was already naked. "I've missed you Gene," she said. "It's been six months," he replied. And apparently he did really miss her, because he grabbed her and started mauling her breasts. He threw her roughly onto the bed. He started rubbing his dick as if he was just going to masturbate over her. "Come on," she whined as if waiting was agony for her. "Did you do it?" he asked. "Sorry," she said. "He wouldn't go for it. Maybe next time." "Shit," he said. "I was looking forward to that. It just makes you seem so much sluttier coming to me with a cooch full of your husband's sperm. I was just imagining my sperm fighting with his and..." "Are you going to fuck me or talk me to death?" she asked. He moved over to her and pounced on her. He jammed his dick, which really wasn't any bigger than mine into her in one thrust and started ramming her like a whore. She put her hands around his waist and urged him on pulling him into her again and again while screaming his name out. He flipped her over and tried to mount her ass but she turned back to him and said, "No." He looked at her angrily. "We can't do that this time," she said. "I have to go home and make him think I saved something just for him. He's been acting really weird lately." "He's still doing that?" asked the guy. "Shit, he's as bad as my wife. You should never have married that guy." "If I recall it correctly," she said. "You had no interest in getting married. So I did what I had to do." "So it took me a while to figure things out," he said. "I actually don't give a fuck about that guy or what he wants. You're mine and you need to remember that. So just tell him that guy who fucked you fucked you in the ass." "No," she said sharply. "If you want me again, you can have me. But it has to be quick and you can't have my ass." "So you're denying me, for him?" he asked. "I only get you twice a God damned year and he can have you whenever the fuck he wants. How the fuck is that fair?" "That's just the way it is," she said. Something in her face changed. "Whatever," he said. "Suck my dick." She crawled over to him and he rammed his dick down her throat forcefully. Her loud gagging sounds filled the room. He pulled out and came on her face, laughing. "You look like such a slut," he said. "You love what I do to you don't you slut?" She nodded. "Since I can't have your ass, you need to start sucking again so I can fuck you again, or do you want to do something else?" he asked. "Like what?" she asked looking at him with a puzzled expression on her face. "Just suck my dick again, he smiled. "That seems to be all you want to do. But then that's all you ever want to do." She looked at her watch. "Either or," she said. "What?" he asked. "Gene we've been here for almost an hour. He's probably home already and wondering where I am. I should really be leaving now," she said. "You can if you want to," he said. "I can always go home and ram my fat assed wife. But if you step out the door, this is our last time. Do you want that?" "No," she said quickly. He moved over behind her and positioned the head of his dick at her pussy that was still dripping with his sperm. He rubbed himself in his own slick sperm and then quickly and forcefully pushed it into her ass. "No," she screamed. "I told you no." "So," he said. Then started slowly pushing himself into her and pulling himself back out. In a few minutes she was pushing her ass back against him and grunting. "Fill me up baby," she moaned. "Fill my ass up. Just make it quick." "Whose ass is it?" he asked. "Yours...I guess," she said. Her ass was so tight that it didn't take him long to cum. He pulled out of her and then got a shit eating grin on his face. Her shook her head and then moved her face into position so he could squirt his cum on her face yet again. "I wanted you to cum in my ass," she whined. He blasted her anyway. "That's funny," he said. "After the scare, you never wanted me to cum inside of you again. Now it's all you want. I think you really don't care you just don't like me spraying your pretty face. Now suck my dick again." "But..." she began. He tilted his face and she complied without another complaint. "When you go home, make sure you kiss him a lot," he said. "That way he'll get a taste of my sperm and your shit at the same time." "There's no way I'd do that," she said. "Come here and let me squeeze those perfect titties he bought for me," he leered. "Then I'll rest up and get one more for the road." I turned off the display and just sat there in the darkness as the tears rolled down my cheeks. There was no way I could ever cry ion public or even in my house if anyone was around, but I just needed to get it out. For a long time I just silently sobbed. I cried because I really did love Delphina, but there was no way I could go on. This wasn't the first time I'd caught the two of them together, but it was the first time that I'd finally gotten the proof I needed to get the bitch out of my life. After 18 years of marriage it was going to be rough, but it had to be done. There were still several questions that needed to be answered but it wouldn't be hard. I guess I was so into myself and my sad little tale that I hadn't realized that I wasn't alone. An arm reached around me and then stopped suddenly. The Rite "I'm sorry. I just heard the sobs and thought that you...I mean men don't really cry," she said. "Why are you hiding in here alone and not going out and dragging some willing woman in here by her hair?" she asked. That was a good thing. It let me know that she hadn't seen my holographic video. She'd probably come in just after I started crying like a loser. "I guess we're both hiding from something," she said. For some reason I thought that nodding my head was something that she could see. "Since we'll never see each other again, maybe we can help each other. You know, stranger therapy? You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine. We don't know each other so we have no reason to lie about things. We can both be brutally honest with each other and give our opinions. Who knows maybe we can each see something that the other doesn't." Somehow she again managed to sense my nod. "I'll go first," she said. "I'm in here hiding because I hate the Rite..." I started laughing hysterically. "We've got more in common than you thought," I threw in. "No," she said. "In my case it's much worse. I guess I grew up hearing all of the fairy tales and that's what I want. I guess I'm pretty. But I just haven't found the right guy. I think it's my personality more than anything else. My opinions kind of contradict each other. On one hand I really believe that the Rite is another form of sexism. It's just another way for men to control women. I want to have complete control over myself and my body. I guess that makes me a feminist. But not really..." she sighed. "Most of the women who are known for their feminist views support the Rite. They support it because it seems okay to them that every woman can go out and have sex with strange men instead of being tied to their husbands and families and jobs. They look at marriage as being some kind of prison and see the Rite as being a way for a woman to kick sand in her husband's face and tell him that he doesn't own her." "What confuses me is that as much as I want to control my own destiny, all I really want is the power to choose the man I give myself to. I want to be married. I want a husband who married me because he loves me. Not for financial or political reasons or anything else. I just hate the fact that I have to go out in the streets and offer myself to some stranger and have sex with him or get a huge fine or be thrown in jail." She sighed again. Listening to her talk was soothing. The sound of her voice was calming. She had a little bit of an accent. I couldn't really make it out but it was definitely southern. "I've been reading these articles about some of the techniques lesbians use if they absolutely can't stomach fucking a man. I decided to try some of them. I figured the easiest one to do would be to find a homeless guy and just get him drunk and take his tag. I spent fifty bucks on a guy before I found out that he'd already fucked some chick and given his tag away. The bastard kept talking about it like it was in his pocket." I laughed my ass off when she said that. Then I told her my story. She was shocked. "What a stupid bitch," she hissed. "You know that's illegal right? She...he...they could get in a lot of trouble. They'd have to do jail time if you could prove it." "I can," I said. "I'm going to try to force her to give me a divorce." "But that will ruin your career too," she said. "No one really cares who was at fault in a divorce. Both parties are just assumed to be failures." "It's not that way everywhere," I said. "And really I just want out. If people want to look down on me because I got rid of a cheater, then I don't really need those people. My friends know me and know what I'm like. Besides, who says I'll ever need to get married again." "You're obviously a nice guy," she said. "From the way you described your marriage and the way you talked about her any woman would be lucky to have you. I wouldn't go for the divorce though. What you said is good but society today just looks down on divorced people. If you really have the evidence, put them in jail. There are a lot of prosecutors out there who are looking to kiss the government's ass. They get off on cases involving the Rite. You could put them in jail for so long that it would be as if you were divorced. By the time they got out, they'd be too old to cause you any trouble and maybe things will have changed by then." "That's an interesting line of thought," I said. "Thanks." "If only my problem was so easily solved," she said. "Yours is much easier," I said. "Here you go." I handed her my tag. "Do I have to take my clothes off, or is this just going to be a quickie?" she asked without enthusiasm. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You gave me your tag," she said. "We have to have sex." "We just did," I said. "We had oral...okay it was verbal sex. One of the names for a conversation is intercourse, right?" "She reached over in the darkness and hugged me. Then she got up and opened the door." As the door opened, we were both surprised to find that the sun was coming up. "You really saved my ass," she said. "I have just enough time to turn this in. I could have lost my job or...I owe you one." Then she was gone. I smiled and thought about the classic Pat Benatar song,"Promises in the dark." It was easy to owe a flavor to someone you could never track down and whose name you didn't know. It was especially easy when they didn't know your name or anything about you either. I walked slowly back to my Mustang with lots of new ideas going through my head. I can't actually say that I was happy. On some levels I was worse than ever before. But at least now after talking to...whoever she was, I didn't feel completely hopeless. I could see a light at the end of the tunnel. And maybe the light wasn't from an oncoming train. As I drove home I didn't have a care in the world. I actually concentrated on and enjoyed driving my car for the first time in a very long time. In fact as I walked in the door to my house, I was humming. My humming suddenly stopped in mid phrase as I noticed Delphina staring at me angrily. "Where the hell were you?" she demanded to know. "The Rite, remember?" I said. "We had plans, remember?" she hissed even more vehemently. "You were supposed to just meet someone fuck her and then drag your ass home and forget about it. We were supposed to make each other forget having sex with some God damned strangers who don't give a damn about us, remember." She got up and walked over to me. "I don't remember a thing about you going out and meeting some whore and spending the entire night with her. You've never done anything like that before. And now you come skipping back into the house and you're humming. You're as happy as a pig in shit, while I spent the entire God damned night waiting for you and worrying about you. She must've been really special." I just shook my head then. "Delphina, I just want to take a shower and go to sleep," I said. "Maybe we can talk about this later. I'm really tired and my BIBSA is full." "What you are is drained," she spat. "For over a week I've been practically sticking my pussy in your face you wouldn't touch me..." "Five," I said. "But you can go out and meet some stranger and spend the whole night fucking her and then expect me not to talk about it. You must be..." "Four," I said. As she looked at me curiously. "So let me guess," she continued. "You met up with some hot twenty year old girl. She made you feel young again and you..." "Three," I said with all of the tension and a bit of anger creeping into my voice. "You do know that anything that little bitch did for you, I can do too, of you give me a chance," she said angrily. "Two," I spat through clenched teeth. "What are you counting anyway?" she shouted. "Is it the number of times you fucked her?" "Delphina I told you my BIBSA was full," I said calmly. "Your what?" she asked. "My built in Bullshit absorber," I said. "It takes in all of the bullshit that people spew at me and absorbs it. When it's full, I can't handle anymore bullshit and I blow up." "Very funny," she said. "I think I get it now, you were drunk. It makes sense. So how many times did you fuck this little whore while your wife, the mother of your child was here at home waiting for you? I stayed in that fucking tub until I shriveled up like a prune." "Well...I tried," I said shrugging my shoulders but you wouldn't let me." "I wouldn't let you what?" she asked. "Tyler there isn't anything I wouldn't let you try and you know it." "I tried to do this in a civilized way," I said calmly. "But you wouldn't let me. So let's just get this shit over with so I can get some fucking sleep." Delphina wasn't used to me talking to her like that. "Let me start out by answering your stupid assed question," I said. "You asked how many times I fucked her. It was none. Just like every other time, Delphina. I've never gone out and had sex with anyone since we first got married. Before tonight, I loved you too much. I just couldn't do it. Too bad you don't feel the same." Her eyes got huge. "Usually I just give my tag to our daughter so she doesn't have to have sex with a stranger. I just trade tags with one of the guys at work. I didn't have a chance to do that this time. I learned that tag switching trick from you, Delphina." "Honey, I don't know what you mean," she said. "I'm sorry I was just worried and..." "And don't try to get out of it now whore," I yelled. Her face went ashen. "Since we're asking questions, what did you do tonight?" I asked. "Well I didn't want to break the law so I just found some guy and..." she began. "What was his name?" I asked. "How would I know?" she asked. "He was just a guy and it was over pretty quickly and I came back home to you." She kept looking between me and the floor and for a few minutes that seemed like hours no one said a word. "I tried," I said. "But there's no talking to you. You're just incapable of telling the truth." "Wha...what do you mean Honey?" she asked. "Delphina always remember that I loved you with all of my heart. And that you're responsible for what happened to us," I said. "Tyler you sound crazy," she said. "There's a difference between crazy and stupid," I said. "I was stupid but not anymore. You can stop lying Delphina so we can figure out our next step. I really want a divorce but if I can't get one, I'll settle for you and Gene going to jail." "We're not getting a fucking divorce, Tyler," she said. "I love you there's no need for it.." Then she looked at me strangely. "What do you mean me going to jail? Who the hell is Gene?" she asked. "Delphina why the fuck did I ever love you? You can't tell the truth even when your ass is one the line. Forget it; we'll just do this through the lawyers," I said. "Wait, Honey," she whined. "I don't know what you're talking about." "So you weren't aware that the guy you spent two hours fucking tonight was your old boyfriend, Gene Simmons? That shocks the piss out of me." "Okay, Tyler I screwed Gene but it didn't mean anything. It was just random chance that we ran into each other. And it was only sex it was over in twenty minutes not two hours." "If it didn't mean anything why did you suck his dick at least three times, let him fuck your ass and tell him you belonged to him not me?" I asked. "I...I was just..." her eyes filled with tears. "You were just cheating on me," I finished for her. "It was the Rite," she cried. "Bullshit," I said. "It's an affair. I don't even know how many times you've fucked him. But this is the fourth time that I have on video. I can also prove that you broke the law by arranging where you'd meet to make sure it wasn't random. Do I need to show you all of the receipts for your room?" I tapped my watch and the holographic video of her fucking Gene popped into the space between us. "See the look on your face?" I said. "You're enjoying it. When the two of you get out of jail you'll have all the time in the world to enjoy it even more. I'll have someone else by then and maybe even more children. Maybe we'll all get together and have a couples' fuck session, but shit, by the time you guys get out we'll all be too old for sex and..." "No Tyler," she screamed. "It isn't what you think. Please let me explain." "Yeah go ahead and explain why the two of you weren't happy just cheating on me. Explain why you have to demean me. Tell me why he wanted my sloppy seconds? That's just weird. Explain to me why he made you suck his dick after it had been up your ass and he wanted you to kiss me." "I was never going to..." she began. "Tyler I just let him..." "You just let him ruin our marriage," I said. "No, Honey, no," she said. "I promise, I'll never see him again and I'll make this all..." "It's too late for that," I said. "I'm going to take shower and go to sleep for a while. I need you to pack your things and leave. Until we work out the divorce settlement and we figure out who gets the house, I'll be staying here. I took your name off of the bank accounts. Your credit cards will still work but you can't use them for cash advances or transfers. If you abuse them before we work things out, I'll cut you off totally. I'm trying to be nice, but don't take advantage of me." "No Tyler," she said again. "Please don't do this. Give me a chance..." "A chance to do what?" I asked. "A chance to hurt me more? I don't see it. And one last thing; I want a DNA test." "For what?" she asked. "Because I can't trust you at all," I said. "I heard you mention the scare. How do I know that she's actually my daughter? I mean I feel like she is, but you didn't make him wear a condom and I have no idea how long you two have been doing this behind my back. If she isn't my daughter, I've heard that judges will either make the bastard pay me back for all of the money I've spent over the years or add the number of years I supported her to both of your sentences." "Tyler she's your daughter. I love you too much to do something like that," she cried. "So you say," I told her. "But we already know that I can't trust you. Pack your shit and be gone by the time I wake up." I went up and took a shower. I did my best to just ignore the sounds I heard and after a while, I was asleep. I woke up in the middle of the day. It was a bright sunny Sunday and after brushing my teeth and not shaving, I dressed and went downstairs. My daughter breezed through the kitchen and gave me a quick hug. "Thanks dad," she said sarcastically. "What did I do now?" I asked. "Mom is a basket case," she said. "She's been crying all morning, so instead of me going out and hanging with my friends, I'm stuck here taking care of your woman." "She's not my woman anymore," I said. "Right," she said stretching the single syllable word out to three or four and conveying her disbelief with every syllable. "I'm serious," I said. "Like you were serious about the DNA test?" she said. "I'm sorry, Honey," I said. "But..." "Daddy, stop talking to me like I'm an idiot," she said. "You did that to hurt Mom because she hurt you. You asking for a DNA test is like saying she's a slut. She's so emotionally distraught right now that she isn't thinking clearly." "So if she was thinking clearly," I began. "What would the difference be?" "Dad, every kid in the state gets a DNA screening in elementary school, remember. I had that done 15 years ago when I was 5. I'm your daughter. If you look through the records in the office you'll see it. Don't you remember sitting me on your lap and trying to explain it to me? And if that wasn't enough; Mom has brown eyes, you have the same weird eyes that I do. Our eyes are Blue with little gold flecks in them. Grandpa on your side had them too remember. He called it a family trait." I nodded my head and she smiled at me. "Daddy, I heard the two of you going at it this morning," she said. "You really nailed her ass to the wall. You made her feel really bad. I get it. She hurt you, so you hurt her back even more. Can you forgive her now?" I didn't say anything. "Daddy, I'm not a little girl anymore. I'm twenty years old. I didn't even need you to protect me from the Rite this year. I just went out and got it over with. It only took twenty minutes. I spend more time than that getting my nails done. I don't believe in it. I think it's stupid. But when you look back in history and see where the country was going..." she paused. "Daddy when you were growing up, there were a lot of divorces weren't there?" she asked. I nodded again. "Well now there are almost none," she said. "I don't have any friends whose parents aren't together. So maybe the Rite isn't so bad." "But this is different," I said. "I know you think it's different," she said. "Daddy, I know how you feel. You don't believe in the Rite. You do everything you can to get out of it. You believe that a marriage is supposed to be between two people and they get married because they love each other and they never need anyone else. I feel the same way. But Daddy, human beings are not perfect. It's not fair to expect them to be perfect. We have desires and hormones and attractions all the time. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you've never looked at another woman since you and Mom have been together?" "Nope, I can't" I said. "So why do you expect Mom to?" she asked. "Because there's a difference between looking at someone and fucking them," I said. "Besides if this was just the Rite, I wouldn't be upset at your mother at all. What your mother did goes beyond the Rite. What she did was cheating. I don't want to be married to a woman that I can't trust." "Daddy, she loves you so much it's crazy. What harm is there if she screws some random guy a couple of times a year?" she asked. "It's not some random guy," I said. "It's her old boyfriend. He's the one she screws every time. Besides it being illegal..." I stopped. "Honey, I just don't want to talk about this anymore. It just feels weird talking to my daughter about who her mother is having sex with," I said. "Daddy our generation grew up with the Rite," she said. "We talked about sex and how it pertains to the Rite in school. So I've been having these discussions forever." "Not with me," I said. "Daddy, I love both of you," she said. "And I don't want to see my family split apart. And you should at least think about me a little bit. I mean society views divorced people as failures. People just don't trust them. And I think in some cases the kids of divorced parents are looked at a little sideways too. People act like your parents being divorced means you're prone to it as well." "Sorry Angel, I hadn't thought about it that way," I said. "But there's really nothing I can do about any of this." "Daddy, we learned in school that if a couple is willing to sit down and listen to each other, they can usually work almost anything out. Maybe the two of you just need counseling." "Sorry, Honey but I don't think this marriage can be saved," I said. "But why not?" she asked. "Because only one of us wants to save it," said Delphina from behind me. "I guess it only meant something to one of us." "And that one of us sure in the hell wasn't you," I spat. "Don't start trying to be the fucking victim here, Mother Theresa. If you could have kept your fucking legs closed or even just followed the rules for the Rite, our marriage wouldn't be ending. And if you want it to last so fucking bad you do have an option." "What's that?" she asked. "I already told you," I said. "You can go to jail and hope that I've had a change of heart in twenty or thirty years when you get out." The Rite "Tyler, can we sit down and just talk about this?" she asked. "I love you so much. Can't I just explain my feelings on this to you and we can work from there? I already told you I'm willing to do anything I have to do to make this right. I've also told you it won't happen again." "Why the fuck would I want to hear your FEELINGS about this when you never cared about mine?" I asked. "You could have stopped doing this at any time. If this marriage meant so God damned much to you, you could have saved it. It's too late now. There is one thing you can do if you want. Call old Gene and tell him what's about to happen to him so he can get a lawyer and we can move this along quickly. And I still want you out of my house." "But Tyler I have nowhere to go," she whined. "There are lots of hotel and motels in the city," I said. "Your credit cards work. But I'd pick a cheaper place because whatever you spend comes out of your share of our assets." "I'll sleep in the guest room," she said. "If I'm not around we won't be able to even try to work this out." "Delphina, you being around will only hurt us more. Every time I see you now, I get sick to my stomach and..." Her face changed then. "That's it isn't it?" she asked. "That's why you've been so distant and why we stopped having sex and..." she just ran away into my bedroom and slammed the door. "I'll go after her," said my daughter. "If you want to," I said. "It's no skin off of my ass." Even though it was a Sunday I made calls to a couple of lawyers I know. Divorce law was so specialized and so rare in our era that it took me a while to get the name of a guy who did it. I emailed him and surprisingly enough got an email back within a couple of hours. We talked about the specifics of the case. And after finding out that he couldn't dissuade me, he agreed to take my case. I decided to be proactive then. I called Gene. I had the phone on speaker as I searched through records in our office trying to get all of the papers the lawyer wanted together. "Simmons," he growled into the phone. And then threw in, "They call me...Doctor Love." "Stevens," I said back. "But not the Stevens you've been fucking." Then I threw in, "Dream On." There was nothing over the phone line but dead air. "I'll stop," he said. "It was just a joke. It was just sex. It didn't mean anything.It was the Rite. It was just a way to be lazy, you know. That way I didn't have to go out and hunt some chick down. And Delphina was always kind of wild. You know what I mean. She was always kind of slutty. You won't believe how much it helped my marriage. Just between the two of us, my wife...I mean I love her a lot but she's not exactly exciting in the sack. But shit Delphina...I mean she likes it rough and she'll do fucking anything, you know?" "What I know is that you have a problem Gene," I said. "Look Tyler, I already told you I'd stop. It's not that big of a deal," he said trying to sound tough. "It really is that big of a deal," I said. "And since I'm divorcing her and naming you in the divorce, I thought you should know. I'm taking the high road here and trying to give you a heads up." "Come on," he said. "You can't be serious. If this gets out I might end up divorced too. That would ruin my life. I don't have a cushy job like you do. And I could lose my wife." "The one you just said sucked in bed?" I said. "There is an alternative for you to consider." "I already told you I'd stop," he said. "And I already told you it's too late for that," I said back. "You could just go to jail, but that's up to Delphina. If she doesn't give me a divorce, I have evidence against the two of you that proves you conspired to defeat the random nature of the Rite. I have your phone calls from before the event where you arranged the hotel room. The room was paid for with one of my credit cards so I even have the record of that and it was made two days before the Rite." "Come on," he whined. "This is unfair. Nobody follows all of the rules all of the time. Just because you want to get back at your wife doesn't mean you have to ruin my fucking life. What about my wife? What about my kids?" "It's really funny that you didn't think about them before now," I said. "Shit, I did this for them," he whined. "That's what the Rite is all about. It's about going out and getting your freak on so you have an outlet and your baser urges or your need to get nasty doesn't turn into resentment against your wife and kids. It's just fun. It's like Halloween. You're just playing a role for laughs." "Well it's not so funny to me," I said. "Look, it's not my fault that your wife is a whore," he snapped. "That's why I never married her. She was a great girlfriend but she just isn't the kind of woman you fall in love with or marry." "You can explain all of that to the judge," I said. "I'd suggest that you get yourself a lawyer." "Wait," he pleaded. "I can't really talk right now. Can we get together and discuss this face to face, maybe over a drink. There's got to be some way we can work this out. What if we work together? Maybe we can convince her to give you the divorce you want without involving me. Maybe we can even work out some way that you don't divorce her without me having to go to jail. I mean think about it. A divorce would hurt your reputation too." I gave him my address and told him to stop by at around 6. I figured I'd be done washing my car by then. As I got up and turned around, I noticed Delphina standing in the doorway. The look of pain on her face was unimaginable. I had seen Delphina cry before this and it always felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I'd always do anything I could to stop her tears. This one was worse. As I'd sat there talking to Gene, Delphina had heard every word. She suddenly ran straight to me and into my arms, crying her eyes out. "I'm sorry you heard that," I said. "I guess heartache is going around." "But you don't even understand," she said. "Your heartache, as real as it may seem to you is needless. What you heard was always just talk between two people acting on their hormones. Maybe I liked fucking Gene, Tyler. But I love making love to you. Don't you see it? I was always begging you for sex after you started to cut down on me. Does that sound like I didn't like what we were doing?" "It sounds like guilt sex," I said. "How stupid can you be?" she asked. "Guilt sex is after you've done something. I'm after you every day. We've been married for 18 years. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" "Only that I've wasted over two hundred months of my life," I said. "So because of some stupid thing that has only happened a few times, you want to throw away twenty years?" she asked. "I didn't throw it away Delphina," I said. "You did." "Tyler, what difference does it make, if it was Gene that I had sex with or just some random guy?" she asked. "If it was a random guy, then you wouldn't remember him. It would just be some random thing that didn't matter and there'd be no feelings involved. This way it's like the two of you had an affair. It was a planned deception with someone you knew. The two of you have feelings for each other and you enjoyed talking about me in a demeaning manner." "Tyler, I never said one thing about you that was demeaning," she said. "You should probably listen to your tapes again or get your head out of your ass. Mostly I was just telling him what he wanted to hear so I could get him done and get home to you, dumbass. And as far as feelings go, there were none. Part of the reason I feel so stupid now is because of what I thought was happening." "What did you think was happening?" I asked. "Did you think that some woman whose husband loves her with all of his heart was slutting herself out for another man? That's what I thought was happening too." "Tyler, you always saw me the way I wanted to be," she said sadly. "Before you and I got together, I was a different person. I was a tall skinny girl with no boobs and no butt. There are thousands of them everywhere. All through college I was so desperate to have a man that I fucked a lot of guys. But none of them wanted me. They all wanted a piece of ass but they didn't want to own the package it came in. I thought that Gene was different. He was from out of town and didn't know about my reputation. We started dating and we started sleeping together. He wanted more than a one night stand. And sex with him was always kind of rough. I thought I loved him so I got used to it and even kind of liked it. There's something to be said for just being dominated." "Anyway I started thinking that maybe Gene would be the one. But after a year of being together we started to argue a lot. We also didn't go anywhere any more. He just came over and fucked me. It took a while but I found out that Gene had heard from some of his friends about me. He didn't want to marry me. He didn't even want to be seen in public with me. I kept thinking that maybe after a while he'd get over it. But it didn't happen and it got worse. He started actually hitting me. But I held out hope. I actually put up with it because I hoped that he'd see something and start treating me the way he did at first." "Then I found out something that broke my heart. Gene had just come over and fucked me. I mean he worked me over good. I was sore for a couple of days afterwards. In my mind it was flattering. I thought that he'd just built up so much desire for me that he'd lost control. It had been a Friday night. When I went out to get breakfast on Saturday I ran into a mutual friend of ours. He looked at me like he was surprised to see me." "I'd have thought you'd be getting ready," he said. "Getting ready for what?" I asked. "Oh yeah," he said. "I can see that you wouldn't want to go..." I guess I had the most puzzled look on my face so he went on. "You do know that Gene is getting married today?" he asked. "I was invited but I have to work. I'm going to the reception though." "Honey, I was heartbroken. He had just used me like his private whore for more than a year. I was good enough to fuck, but not good enough to marry. Less than six months afterwards, I met him and we talked. He acted like I'd deceived him by not telling him about the other guys I'd been with. So he figured that he had the right to hold back things from me too." "Tyler, I slept with a few guys. But I only did it because I was looking for something. I wasn't looking for sex. I was looking for someone who'd love me as much as I'd love them. I wanted a man of my own and Gene turned out not to be that man. I was broken hearted for a while and then I met the nicest guy ever. He was kind of shy and I wasn't used to that. But there was just something about him. And once we got into bed, I found heaven. I got the idea that he liked me. I mean he really liked me as a person and the sex was just the icing on the cake." "Tyler I loved him before we ever had sex, but finding out that he loved me too...I just felt like I'd swallowed a balloon there was so much love in me I almost exploded. Tyler, he and I had sex a lot. He does things to me that no one does. He was the first person I did anal with. And the bastard got me pregnant. But then he ruined me for life. He asked me to move in with him. Of course I accepted. That way the three of us would all be together. He and I could raise our daughter together. He shocked me even more when he asked me what I'd wanted for most of my life. We got married and I've never ever regretted a second of it." "I'm not perfect Honey and neither are you. I could always sense that you got a little pissed at me around the time of the Rite. There were times when it would take you days before you would even touch me again. I finally figured out that you were pissed because I'd had sex with someone else. You loved me so much that the idea of someone else touching me bothered you whether it was the law or not. I cried because that was exactly the way I wanted someone to feel about me." "Tyler, the reason I laughed at you the other night when you asked for the DNA test was because there's simply no way that your daughter could belong to anyone else. Her birthday is in September stupid. That means she was conceived in late December or January. The Rite is in April and October. Except for the Rite, I have never slept with any man except you since the first time I saw you. I love you stupid. I've always been yours." "As far as Gene is concerned; I already told you it has only happened four or five times. I'm sorry I really can't remember if it was four of five. I ran into him out of pure chance before the Rite the year before last and we spoke. He laid all of his cards on the table and told me about how he should have married me." "Maybe, I have a mean streak in me but I wanted to rub in his face what he didn't have. So I told him about you and how successful you are in your career and how much I love you and our daughter. I told him that he'd actually done me a favor by not marrying me. I think that hearing about you and how successful you are and how you're twice the man he'll ever be made him really jealous of you. That's why he likes to put you down when we have sex. I loved throwing it in his face. It was kind of my revenge for the way he'd treated me." "But it wasn't enough a few weeks later when the Rite came along, I just happened to be there. He and I did it. As usual I let him do what he wanted and he really got off on it. My husband gets this and whatever he wants, whenever he wants," I told him." "I'd enjoyed rubbing it in his face. Six months later I got a phone call. He'd gotten my number from some people we both knew. We arranged to do it again at the next Rite. I know that this isn't going to sound logical to you but there were a lot of factors going on. On one hand I enjoyed rubbing it in his face that most of the year he got either no sex or really boring sex from his wife. From what he says they do it about once a month, if that. I also enjoyed letting him know that we do it almost every night. But there were other things going on too." "I felt like so much less of a slut meeting up with someone I knew. I can honestly tell you that for the past two years, I've only had sex with two men instead of at least five that I'd have had if I did the random thing. And I'm trying to be honest with you here Tyler. In a way I enjoyed having sex with Tyler. I mean you saw it. He doesn't do anything better than you do, he's just rougher. And not all the time but sometimes, I enjoy that. And that's what the Rite is supposed to be about. But there are no feelings involved. Go back to your tape again, Honey. I spend hours looking into your eyes and kissing you. We become a part of each other's souls. Did you see me kiss him once? It didn't happen. It was just sex. He came three or four times because he loved it. How many times did I get off? You might have heard me urging him on by yelling stupid shit like," Cum in me," or, "Fill me up." But did you ever hear that little scream that you love to make fun of? The one that tells you I just had an orgasm?" "You didn't hear it because it didn't happen. He kept doing things because he was having a good time. I just wanted to get done and get home to you. But you stayed out the whole God damned night. All I wanted was for the Rite to be over so I could get naked with my husband. I kept hoping that once the Rite was over that we could get back to normal. Why do you think I suggested that we just get rid of whoever we did the Rite with and come home and take a long relaxing bath together and finish the night with each other? I love you, Tyler. There's no one else in my heart." "Except for making you angry at me the thing I feel the worst about is hearing the things that Gene said. Like I told you I really thought that I was punishing him for not marrying me. But I can see that he was really just using me again. No matter what happens he's never going to see beyond the slut he thinks I was when we met. I've been faithful to you for twenty years and whether you want to admit it or not, you love me Tyler. I'm going to make sure you always do, no matter what I have to do." She looked at her Apple iWatch. "I think you'll know what I mean in a few moments. I took a page from your book Honey." "Are you done packing?" I asked. "I didn't start," she said. I was really pissed because I'd been very clear with her. Before I could say anything the doorbell rang. I went to answer it and saw Gene standing there. He looked really nervous. He obviously didn't know what to expect. For a moment I just stared at him. I realized that seeing him in person was far different from seeing him on video. Even the high definition holographic video from my Apple iWatch couldn't truly show me the detail I got from standing in front of the actual person. He was actually far from the monster I'd imagined. He wasn't even as big as I am. I think I have him by about two inches in height. He seemed to be as shocked as I was. He held out his hand for me to shake and I just stared at him. He dropped his hand when he realized that I had no intention of shaking it and rubbed it on his pants. "We may as well talk in the back," I said leading him out to my deck. I couldn't help it. I looked around for Delphina. I guess I really wanted to see her reaction to him and vice versa. We sat down at a small table on my deck. "Look first off, I just want to say that I'm sorry about all of this," he said. "...The more that I think about it, the worse I feel. If I put myself in your shoes I guess I'd be as angry as you are. But I just don't see the need for 7 people's lives to be ruined for the stupid ideas of only 2. When I say 7 people I mean both couples ending up divorced and between us we have three kids." "I kind of figured that," I said. "So look, you told me I had two choices. I could be a party to your divorce which would ruin my life, because the other party in an infidelity case is considered even worse than the divorced couple. That could lose me my job and the fallout from it would cost me my marriage anyway. My second choice was worse. I'd end up in jail for violating the rules of the Rite. That means that what I did would still come out. My career would still end and I'd probably still end up divorced, plus I'd go to prison for a long assed time." "Neither of those options appeals to me, so what If I paid you to keep me out of it. I don't make much money, but what If I gave you five thousand dollars up front and a little bit each week from now on. Think about it, you could still divorce the whore. I don't blame you. No one should be stuck..." Before he could finish his sentence I had punched him in his mouth so hard he'd fallen over backwards in his chair. I was on him pounding the shit out of him so fast that he didn't have a chance to react. If someone hadn't pulled me off of him, I probably would have killed him. As it was his face was a mask of blood and bruises that he'd remember for a long time. I was still trying to get back to him to hit him some more when I realized that Delphina and another woman were the ones who'd pulled me off of him. "Gene, what did you do now?" asked the woman in a very no-nonsense voice. "And where the hell are you going to get five thousand dollars?" The woman was huge, barrel bodied Amazon. She had a pretty face with an ugly expression on it as she looked at Gene the way a mother looks at a child who just took a shit on the kitchen floor. Her legs looked like the columns that support a building and she had a huge bubble but. Oddly enough her breasts were very small almost flat and barely stood out from her chest. Her entire demeanor said that she was in charge. I could imagine Gene only getting sex from her once or twice a year and it would be on her terms. I could imagine not wanting sex at all with her. Maybe that was why he needed to be so forceful when he had sex during the Rite. He got to pretend that he was still forceful and in charge. It was almost like twice a year he got his balls back. And twice a year Delphina got to be dominated. I just shook my head thinking about it. The Rite Gene just groaned in pain. "Can you get me a towel, please?" the woman asked Delphina. Delphina brought back a warm damp towel. Gene had gotten to his feet and the woman sat him down in the chair. She wiped away most of the blood and looked over his injuries. "You're going to have a couple of black eyes and a fat lip," she said unsympathetically. "But you'll live. Now what the hell is going on? I caught some of it. Apparently you've done something to this gentleman and are trying to buy your way out of jail." I explained the entire situation to her and she got angrier by the second. "Mr. Stevens do you really have video of...uh you know?" she asked. "Yes I do," I said. "It's high definition holographic video. I also have audio of them arranging to meet. That violates the rules of the Rite and..." "I know," she said. "They'd do at least twenty years. By the time they'd get out we'd both have found someone else. Divorcing them while they were in jail would be really easy too. And since they've committed crimes we could probably get away with it without very much stigma against us. It would probably even disappear if we got remarried reasonably quickly. I doubt that would be a problem for either of us." Both Gene and Delphina gasped. "So which option are you favoring Mr. Stevens?" she asked. She looked into and started rummaging around inside of the purse that she'd carried. She pulled out a device that looked like one of those male sex aids from early in the century. They called them pocket pussies. This one had a belt attached to it and small loop near the rim. As she placed it on the table it made a solid thunk sound. It was obviously heavy and made of metal. I noticed that Gene face took on an expression of terror as she put the device down. She looked back at me. "I told Delphina that she could decide," I said. The woman started laughing and shook her head. She turned to her husband. "You won't get off so easily," she said. "Put it on." "Right here?" he asked. "Can't I wait until..." "Put it on right now," she said slowly, enunciating each word. Gene stood and pulled his pants down to his knees. He then stripped his shorts down as well. He took the object off of the table and belted it around his waist. He slipped his flaccid penis into the mouth of the device and then winced in pain as it lit up. He wrapped the wire like loop near the rim around his balls and the wire tightened quickly until it was snug. He pulled his underwear and pants back up and tried to sit back down. He had to move very gingerly. The woman handed me a small remote control. As I looked at it I saw two rows of buttons. One row had a large "M" and the other an "L." "If you press the "L" it works on the loop around his nuts," she said. "Press the L and then press the H." I did as she told me and suddenly Gene shrieked like a woman and started grabbing his nuts. "Please, STOOOP!" he screamed. His wife shrugged her shoulders. "Right now that wire is getting hotter and burning his nuts. You can stop it by pressing the button again," she said with absolutely no concern in her voice. I pressed the button and Gene blew out a sigh of relief so loud that I could feel the breeze from it. "If you press the "S" the wire will retract and squeeze his nuts. It's strong enough to actually castrate him by cutting them off. Of course if you press the "M" then whatever you select happens to his penis. The "S" will squeeze it. The "P" punctures it with spikes and so forth." "Go ahead give it a try," she said. I placed the remote down on the table. Just looking at it made my own nuts hurt. "So what are you going to chose Mrs. Stevens?" she asked. I turned to look at Delphine. "I guess I'm going to jail," she said softly. "No," said Gene angrily. Before he could say anything else, his wife snatched the remote off of the table and pressed a button. Gene let out a blood curdling scream and started rolling around on the grass beating on his crotch. His wife watched him for a while and then turned the device off. There was a foul odor carried on the breeze that made it apparent that Gene had soiled himself. He lay there on the grass rocking himself back and forth. "That seems kind of harsh," the woman said to Delphina. "I don't have choice," said Delphina with huge tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm not giving him a divorce. I can't. I love him too much. As long as we're still married there's a chance that he'll forgive me. If we divorce, we can both get married again if someone will have us. But we could never marry each other again." "Well, I guess this is over," said the woman. "You got away with it again Gene. Give me your keys. I took a taxi to get here." "But we live in the city," he whined. "This is the suburbs. That's a ten or twelve mile walk. And with this thing attached to my...Love Gun, it's going to be pretty hard to Walk this Way." "It would be worse doing it with hot nuts, wouldn't it?" she asked. Gene threw her the keys so fast it seemed like his life was on the line. "What do you mean he got away with it again?" I asked. "He's done shit like this before," she said. "That's why I have to keep a lot of these Toys in the Attic. If it wasn't for our kids, I'd divorce him on the spot. Last time I made him wear that chastity device for six months. This time it'll be a year. If he tries to take it off it's programmed to uh...take IT off." "They won't let him wear it in jail, will they?" I asked. "He's not going to jail," she said. "You aren't going to do anything. Right now you're really angry at her but you're going to take her back. You love her too much not to. It's written all over your face. She really didn't do anything that was that bad. According to the rules she has to have sex with someone outside of her marriage. It's supposed to be random to make sure that there's no threat to your marriage. She doesn't have any feelings for Gene. If you look at her you can see that the only person she loves is you. And you love her so much it's just stupid. You beat the fuck out of Gene because he called her a name." "Jesus, in a way Gene was doing you a favor. At least you know who she was doing it with and you know that he was no threat to you. How the fuck are you going to handle it in six months when the Rite comes around again and she has to go out and fuck a complete stranger?" She picked up her purse and headed for the door. Gene looked up at us with pain written all over his face. "Maybe jail wouldn't be so bad after all," he whined. He headed for the door and his long walk home. * * * * * * Epilogue Six months later I was a different person. Gene's wife had been right. I loved Delphina too much to handle the Rite. And since it was the law I had to either embrace it or we had to separate. I did come to appreciate the logic behind it and I couldn't fault the fact that it had drastically reduced the number of divorces in the country. There was also the fact that seeing Delphina with Gene had changed me. I did the only thing I could. I ran, leaving Delphina the house. I settled in Windsor Ontario. I do all of my work by telecommuting. I even work for the same company. If I were still in America, tonight would have been the Rite. Here in Canada, I'm doing my own version. The woman on my bed has a mask on that she can't see through. She's chained to the bed and has no idea what is about to happen to her. She has a ball gag in her mouth and is completely naked. I walk around the room several times and she twists her head to either side trying to figure out where I am. I suddenly stop and run the large feather in my right hand across her nipples very gently. She tries to sigh but the gag in her mouth prevents it. I grab her leg roughly. There's enough give in the chains that I can roll her onto her side but not much more. I drop the feather beside me and pick up a leather paddle. I slap her ass with it several times until her ass is a red as a cherry. As I finish the last stroke, I unhook one of her handcuffs and roll her onto her stomach. I start gently rubbing her sore red ass and then I apply a soothing aloe lotion to it. She starts humming and then realizes that one of her hands is free. She pulls the gag out of her mouth before I can stop her, but she says nothing. I stop rubbing the lotion and start licking her ass. I start at the top of her large rounded cheeks and slowly work my way down. When I reach her legs, they're quivering and she's moaning. I pull her soft ass cheeks apart and start licking her pussy. I bury my face in her core and gently stroke her still sore ass cheeks occasionally. She screams out her passion as my tongue tickles her clit again and again. "No more, Tyler," she moans. "Shut up," I hiss. I lie down on top of her and she reaches behind her for my dick. She guides it into her tunnel of love and starts moving her ass against me. After a few more strokes I take over. I pound her harder and harder until she screams out again. But I'm not spent yet so I continue pounding her getting closer to my own orgasm with every stroke. I can still remember the day before I left America. There was a knock on my door. I opened it and saw a woman standing there. She was short and very cute. She was younger than me and although I didn't recognize her features, I felt like I knew her. "Tyler Stevens?" she asked. "Uh yeah?" I said. She held out the tag I'd had for the Rite that last time. "You gave me this," she said. "How did you...?" I asked. "Track you down?" she smiled. "I told you that it was especially bad if I didn't participate in the Rite, remember?" I nodded. "That's because I work for the department that tracks compliance. It was easy for me to identify you through the bar code and..." "I'm going to jail?" I asked. She laughed. "Of course not," she laughed. "I just came to bring you this back. I want you to give it to me again." "But why don't you just keep it?" I asked in confusion. "Why track me down and scare the shit out of me just so I can give you something you already have?" "Because this time I don't want you to just give it to me," she smiled. "This time I want to earn it." She opened her coat and was naked under it. "I figure you've had enough time to get rid of your wife now and you seem to be exactly the kind of man I've been looking for." That was two months ago and was the start of the second phase of my life. I smile thinking about it as I gripped her still red ass cheeks and tried to hold my load back for a few more exquisite strokes. "Tyler I'm going to cum again," she hissed. "Pump me baby," she yelled just before she made that little squealing sound that told me she'd had yet another orgasm. I shot three good blasts of sperm inside her pussy even as her quivering legs spasmed in response to her sensory over load. I collapsed beside her as she unhooked first her other hand and then took the quick release handcuffs off of her ankles. She wrapped her long legs around me and kissed me deeply. "I love you so much Ty," she mumbled. "My ass is so sore I'm gonna have to stand up for a week." "You loved it." I said. "Now shut up and suck my dick." She looked at me and laughed. "Okay Honey," she said. "You know I'll do anything you want, but the Rite is over. So, no more rough stuff. I only need that every once in a while and only for variety. I did like you spanking my ass though. But for now I want us to soak in our tub together and then get pizza. After that I want us to make slow gentle love the way we always do." Gene's wife had been right. I'd loved Delphina too much to be able to handle letting her have sex with even a random stranger. So I had as I said, run away to Canada. I'd left her the house and as much money as she'd need until we'd work out all of the details. She'd laughed and told me to just sell the house and she didn't need any money. "But how will you survive?" I asked her. "The same way you will, Dummy," she said. "I'm going with you." "Delphina, we..." I sputtered. "Exactly," she said smiling. "We, Tyler. That's the way it's always going to be. Where you go, I go. So if you're going somewhere, I am too. We'll have to give Heidi the choice of going or staying, but you and I are together for life." "But what about your need for..." I began. "Tyler, I love you more than anything," she said and I really could see that she meant it. "In our everyday life you're a pretty forceful guy. You're not that way with me in the bedroom because you love me so much. But every once in a while, not often, maybe a couple of times a year...you could just, you know...just come in and take what you want. I mean, you know I'd give it to you anyway, but make me do it...Don't ask me. Just take it." We settled in Canada and twice a year, we do our own version of the Rite. We try something different every time but only the two of us are ever involved. It does help to spice things up for us but truthfully we love each other so much that we don't need much spice. There are things about The US that we miss, but in a few more months when we're Canadian citizens, we'll be able to come and go as we please. Detroit is just across the river so we're not that far away. All in all I think we made the right move, because for us, the Rite was wrong. The end. The Rites of Zea Thylla, an innocent eighteen-year-old farm girl, is called on to perform an important and ancient fertility rite. * "Cousin Thylla!" a friendly familiar voice called out from across the market square, "You're here today! I'm so glad to see you. How'd you manage to get away from the farm?" Thylla's wide, dark green eyes peered over the laden basket of dried fruit she was unloading from the donkey-cart, and recognizing her second-cousin, Zahra, reached her bronzed, work-hardened arms out to her for a hug. "Zahra!" She whispered in her ear, "Father wanted an extra hand for market. You know how he is - he'd rather visit with his friends than watch the stall himself. My sister's baby is due any day now, and Mother won't leave her side, and everyone else was busy with the late plantings and cultivating, so I volunteered." Thylla held her at arms length, smiling brightly, "It's so good to get away once in awhile. I get so bored at the farm. So much work, and no boys to talk to, unless you count the roosters, my nephews, or my sister's boring husbands!" "Relatives and roosters don't count, Thylla," Zahra smiled back, "If you ever get a minute away, you should come sit at our stand with me. We've got so much catching up to do! Have you heard about Ahsa? She's betrothed! Can you believe we're just about the last ones left from our clan that aren't promised?" Zahra sighed, "We're old maids at eighteen, Thyll." "Zahra!" A voice boomed out from across the square, "Get over here -- these rugs won't sell themselves!" "Yes, Father," Zahra called back, cocking a pretty eyebrow in the direction of the voice, "Come see me, please? I've got some good gossip I'd love to share! And, besides, two girls get the boys attention better than one!" Zahra scurried away, weaving and dodging through the merry confusion of market day. Thylla went back to her unloading the modest stand, setting the baskets just so, as she tossed her dark golden, glossy waves off her pretty face. Father was off making his rounds, joking and talking with the other men at the market, leaving Thylla blissfully alone on this sunny June morning, the streets alive with the hustle- bustle and the myriad sights and smells of the village market. "If only I could go to market every day," Thylla mused, "and not have to be locked away at the farm. I should marry a merchant." Thylla, satisfied with her arrangement, sat back, smiling to the busy shoppers as she took in the scene. There were the wool-dealers, loudly haggling with their customers over the fine, fluffy fleeces, the spice-vendors, guarding their fragrant, exotic wares with a watchful eye, and, most interesting of all, the butchers, with their thick, strongly muscled arms and flirtatious manners, trying to entice the moneyed housewives to purchase their expensively cured sweetmeats. Their were customers for her stall, of course, ready to drive a hard bargain, but Thylla smiled sweetly and usually got the better of the deal. Her pockets jingled with coins, and the morning passed quickly, so much more quickly than when she was home, tending the fowl or weeding the gardens. Shutting her eyes, she drowsed in the noon-day sun, and loosened her simple white shift off her shoulders, drinking in the warm rays on her skin. "Excuse me, shop-girl," a low voice snapped her from her drowsy reverie, "Are you the owner here?" Thylla's eyes opened to a tall, majestically dressed man, his white beard and fine robes gleaming in the bright sun. Did she know him? He looked so... familiar. "No, sir," she replied quickly, "My father is, umm, well, he's here somewhere, if you want to talk to him." "That's not necessary, for now," the tall man spoke evenly, his eyes searching her, "I can tarry awhile. Would you be so kind as to answer some questions for me?" "Certainly," Thylla answered, "I'd be happy to show you our wares. We produce all our fruit at our farm from the trees passed down from our..." "I'm not interested in your fruit, as fine as it may be," he interrupted, and smiled, showing white, even teeth in his lined face, "I'm more interested in you. How old are you, child? Are you betrothed?" "This is my eighteenth summer," Thylla smiled back shyly, her eyes downcast, "I'm not betrothed. Yet. I mean, I'm sure I will be soon, when we get the money for my dowry. I've got five older sisters...so, my family is a bit... "Poor?" the tall man laughed, his eyes sparkling, "With six daughters, I can believe your family is in need of coin. Any brothers?" "No sir," Thylla replied, intrigued by the elegant man's questions, "My older sisters and their husbands live at our farm. We...keep busy." "Stand up, girl," he commanded quietly, his eyes smiling, "Show yourself. Tell me, what is your name? Turn around, slowly - please, I'd like to judge your carriage, if I may be so bold." "It's Thylla, sir," she rose obediently, shaking the golden waves from her bare shoulders, as she spun slowly for the stranger, her mind running through the possibilities of this odd request. Was he looking for a bride? For his grandson? Or, dare she say, for him? Or perhaps, was he looking for a servant for his house? And why did he look so familiar? As if he was reading her thoughts, Thylla heard him say to her back, "Do you know who I am, child?" "Not really, sir, although," Thylla answered as he turned to face him, slipping up the straps of her shift, "are you a friend of Father's? I think... I've seen you in the village, before." "Do you keep the gods, Thylla?" He studied her face, noting her high cheekbones and wide eyes fringed by long lashes, "Is...your family religious?" "Umm, my Mother is," Thylla spoke hesistantly, hoping he'd not trip her up in her fib, "We sacrifice, and try to attend festivals, but, well, there's a lot to keep up with at the farm, and we live so far away..." Her voice trailed off, embarrassed by the question, "I, I mean we, try. We have a shrine to the God of Rain. In our garden," she added hopefully, nodding. "Then perhaps this will jog your memory," he said, pulling out a priestly amulet of jade and amethyst from under his embroidered robe, "I am Halan, the high priest of Zea. I come with the blessing of the Regent to look for suitable candidates for the enactment of the Ritual of Zea. Surely you're familiar with the rites? You know, it is a great honor to the clan who assists us in this important ritual, don't you?" "I am sir," Thylla's face reddened, and not from the noon-day sun, "I've... heard of the rites. Zea is one of my... Mother's favorite goddesses. She's very important to farmers like us." That much Thylla knew. The actual rites? Not so much. "And your Father's name? I'd like to speak with him as soon as possible." Halan smiled, noting her suddenly shy demeanor. "An uspoiled farm girl, close to the earth, she just might make a worthy candidate," he thought warmly as he gazed at her, tall and golden in the bright day, "She seems strong, ripe, and healthy, very likely innocent of men. Although, I don't think I've seen her at the Temple, it would be no matter. Zea would approve." He continued, his piercing gaze fixing on her, "One last question, Thylla, and you must answer truthfully," Halan's eyes met hers, "Have you known man? At all? Think carefully, child, for this is very important." "I have never known man. This is the truth," Thylla whispered, wondering why this was asked, unaware of what might be asked of her, "and my Father's name is Wotan, from the clan of the Xoth." Spying him in the distance, she added with a wave, "I see him down at the wine-seller's stand, there. The tall man with brownish hair and the red cloak." "Thank you, Thylla of Xoth," Halan smiled and took her hand, pressing a coin into it, "You have been most helpful. I look forward to seeing you again, with the goddesses blessing. Peace be on you." Thylla watched curiously as the tall priest strode off across the square, disappearing into the crowd. Opening her hand, she glanced down, her palm glittering with a gold coin. She turned it over in her hand, marveling at its weight, and what had just transpired. "Is this real?" she mused, the gold coin gleaming in the bright sun, "I wonder what..." She had lied to Halan, just a bit. She had heard something of the rites, knowing of their importance as a harbinger of good luck for the harvest and beyond into the next years planting. What she wasn't sure of, was exactly what the ritual was -- she'd noticed the girls chosen over the years, proudly walking through the fall markets or at the winter festivals, brown as acorns from the sun, wearing robes of gold and green, their hair adorned with golden ornaments fashioned to look like ripe sheaves of wheat, smiling their secret smiles, seemingly oblivious to the gossip that swirled around them. Some, a special few, showed ripe, swelling bellies through their rich garments as they strolled through the village, stopping to accept the spoken blessings from the towns-folk. She also knew that very few of these girls ever married, especially the ones who bore the children conceived from the rites, often becoming priestesses of the goddess at the temple of Zea, either by choice, or, because they bore a child out of wedlock, even one who was blessed by the goddess. Not many men were willing to accept them as wives after their service to Zea, despite their high standing in the village. Thylla furrowed her brow, lost in thought. She had never considered such a fate for herself. All she'd ever wanted was a strong, sweet boy to ask for her hand, take her away from her parents, the farm, the never-ending work and drudgery. She had some idea of what she might be asked to do for the rites -- what farm girl hadn't had ample opportunity to see what animals got up to on a daily basis? And besides, if it wasn't that, how did those chosen girls get those babies? Maybe they got them from Zea. Who knows? But, as for Thylla, her mother, a pious and controlling woman, kept a tight rein on all her daughter's virtue, keeping them innocently ignorant until their dowries were secured and they were betrothed to boys from good families. "Thylla! Darling girl!" Thylla looked up to see Father rushing towards her, his arms outstretched. He crushed her to him in an embrace as he whispered in her ear, "Pack up the stall, we're going home! You...I...we... have made us a fortune today!!" "But it's only past noon," Thylla remarked, puzzled, "And we still have plenty left to sell." "No need to worry about selling!" He crowed, "I've just made us more coin than we could make in fifty market days! Hurry, girl, I can't wait to tell your mother!" "What are you talking about, Father?" Thylla's eyes narrowed, "What news?" "No need to explain now! I'll tell you when we get home," Father grinned broadly, "You'll make us proud -- By the gods, you'll probably make us rich! Now hurry! No back-talk!" The walk back to the farm was silent, save for the merry whistling of Father as he jingled the fat purse on his belt as they drove the laden donkey cart down the rutted path. Bursting into the modest farm-house, Thylla in tow, Father tossed the money purse on the table, its contents spilling out, and called to the kitchen, "Mother! Come quick! I've got wonderful news!" "You're back from market already?" Thylla's mother sighed wearily as she stepped from the kitchen. "You couldn't have sold all that fruit that fast..." wiping her hands on her apron, she was taken aback by the sight of the weighty purse and its gold and silver contents glittering on the rough-hewn table. "Where, in all the gods names, did you get all that money?" She exclaimed, "Did you rob a caravan?" "I've made us a deal. With the High priest of Zea. For Thylla," he started, his voice rising with excitement, "for..." "You didn't!" Thylla's mother's face turned white, "Thylla! Go feed the chickens! Now! Leave us!" Thylla fled the house, hearing Father and Mother's voices rising in anger. She stopped outside the door, straining to hear what was being said. Father was explaining loudly that "She was chosen and it is a great honor to the clan, besides, we had no money for her dowry, anyway!" and Mother was crying about, "The clan be damned! What about dishonor to this house? To my reputation?" and "No man will want her, now!" Thylla slunk away, crossing the yard to the chicken-coop. Blinking in the afternoon sun, she knew. Her suspicions were right. She was the chosen one. "But chosen for exactly what?" she mused, turning the possibilities over in her head, "For what? For...Zea?" "Thylla!' she heard her Father call from across the farm yard, "Come in and sit down. We need to talk." "Yes, Father," Thylla spoke hesitantly as she sat at the table, her mother conspicuously absent from the kitchen, "you needed me?" "Thylla, you have been blessed with a great honor," Father's voice intoned, "For our clan. For yourself, for this family. You have been selected to represent Zea at the Solstice ritual, and I accepted, as your Father and clan leader. I've been given instructions as how you are to be prepared, and, as your Mother, who should be in charge of these things," he shot a dark look in her direction, "has washed her hands of this, I've left the task to your sister, Aylla." Rising, he took Thylla's hand in his, his eyes shining, "You'll make our clan proud, promise me, Thylla?" Thylla, her eyes downcast, whispered shyly, "Yes, Father, you can count on me." "Good! That's settled. I'm sure your mother will come around, in time," Father smiled warmly, "and Aylla will be taking care of you until the ritual. It's less than a fortnight away." The next day, Thylla awoke, the sun bright through the window. "I've slept half the morning," she realized groggily, "I'm late with my chores, Mother will be so angry!" "Good morning, sunshine," she heard her older sister Aylla coming through the door, holding a clean white shift and a glass jar of oil, "I hope you enjoyed your beauty rest. You'll be getting a lot of it," she smiled, sitting down next to Thylla on the bed. "We start on preparations today. Don't worry, nothing strenuous. Actually, you've got a pass on any chores from now on. Come on, we need to get to the spring. We need to bathe you." Thylla stood naked in the sparkling cool water, Aylla pouring and scrubbing, "There now, your hair is clean," Aylla said, rubbing her dry, " Sit and dry for awhile on that warm rock,." She pointed out a large, flat boulder by the side of the creek, "I'll need to anoint you with the oil, next." Thylla, shutting her eyes, took in the warm rays of the sun on her bare, damp skin as she dried, her mind reeling with questions. "Perhaps Aylla knows," she thought, "maybe." "Stand up, Thyll," her sister's voice interrupted, "I need to rub in the oil." Thylla stood, her breasts proud in the bright sun, her damp hair curving in waves down her back. "Where's my clothes?" she spoke, her eyes darting, "Someone could see me." "Face the sun, no one will see you, Thyll," Aylla murmured, her hands spreading the fragrant oil over Thylla's back, "They're forbidden. It's just you and me until the ritual. You'll have to eat in your room, and from now until then, only fruit of the earth and grains. No meat," she continued, her voice warm and comforting, "And you'll worship the sun during the noon-day, as much as you can. The browner your skin is, the better the magic, at least that's what they say," she sighed, turning Thylla around to stroke her rounded breasts and stomach, "And you are to meditate on the ritual as you worship the sun, so I'd better tell you...about it. You know the story of Zea, right? Tell me." "Well, Zea is the goddess of crops, of farms," Thylla blinked against the sun as she turned back towards it, "Zea was a young, struggling goddess, trying to teach her mortals how to grow and cultivate crops, but as she scattered the seeds in the forest-clearings, her plots were over-run with weeds and wildflowers. Because her plots were not very fruitful, it was hard for her to gain worshippers, as most women still clung to the old ways of simply gathering the gifts of the forest-gods where they found them." She continued, remembering her childhood lessons, "On Solstice day, as she was trying to wrest the weeds and wildflowers from her crops, she saw her brother, Ryll -- the god of war, returning victorious from a battle with a forest-dragon that she had requested he kill for her -- It had been threatening her small band of beloved mortals as they planted and tended their plots in the forest-clearings. Seeing her, he threw down his ax, splitting the earth in a straight row, and, as she greeted him, Zea's plants sprang up magically in the row, bigger and more fruitful than ever before." "Then, Zea and Ryll joined forces, Ryll splitting the earth in straight rows and sowing the seeds, Zea tending and harvesting the newly-bountiful crops, which was made easier by the neat, planned rows. And that is why men plow and plant the seed, and women cultivate and harvest. The end." "And when you say Zea and Ryll "joined forces," did you know what they meant?" Aylla's voice was sly, "Did anyone ever tell you how they "joined?" "No," Thylla answered, her curiosity piqued, "Not really. I figured, they just worked together..." she said, her voice trailing off. "They "joined," Thyll. Literally." Aylla cooed from behind, her lips close to Thylla's ear, "She was so grateful to him for killing the dragon that she opened her arms and legs to his embrace. He touched her, here. He put his godly member in her." Aylla's fingers, slick with oil, slid over her rounded belly and reached down to slip between Thylla's thighs, parting them. "He planted his seed in her." "He touched her, like I'm touching you," she purred, her slick fingertips brushing lightly over her mound of damp curls, dipping into her soft folds, "Between your legs. Do you like it?" Aylla pressed her firm breasts into Thylla's back, her free arm wrapping around her waist, holding her fast, "You'll like the way he touches you -- I'm to show you how much you'll like it. Although I'm not equipped to show you everything," Aylla murmured, her voice low and musical in Thylla's ear. Thylla, shocked, stiffened against the soft touch of her older sister's fingertips, both aroused and repelled by the feelings they stirred. "Relax, Thyll," Aylla continued, her voice soft, "That's all for now. Lay down on your back, face the sun, and reflect on the feelings between your legs. You can touch yourself, if you like. I'll be back for you later." Thylla whirled around, grabbing Aylla's arm, her suspicions confirming, "You mean I'm...I'll...He'll...put his thing in me? That's the ritual? That's it? I'm to know man?" "Pretty much, Thyll," Aylla's eyes were bright and sly, "The warrior representing Ryll is chosen for his valor...and virility, and usually, his clan status - just like you were chosen for your youth and innocence. The more pleasure he gives you, the better the omen. And if he gives you a child, well, you know how much that means for the harvest - and beyond." Aylla's voice lowered to a whisper, "Don't worry, Thyll. You'll find that once you know what it's like to...feel pleasure, well, you'll love it. I promise." Aylla's round green eyes sparkled with mirth, "I wouldn't have three babies already if I didn't!" "And besides, it could be worse," she continued, smiling hopefully into Thylla's wide eyes, "Be thankful you don't have brothers. If one of them was of age, you'd have to perform the ritual... make love... to him." "And that's why the chosen girls seldom marry." Thylla mused, her eyes narrowing as she watched her sister stride away. "It makes sense, doesn't it?" The Rites of Zea Settling back on to the warm rock, she shut her eyes, the sun hot and welcoming on her bare skin as her fingers strayed between her legs, re-creating the sharp tingle that her sister's touch had stirred. She had seldom touched herself there, her mother sharp eyes watching her every move. She even demanded that in bed, hands be kept on top of the coverlet only. "No wonder Mother disapproved. I had no idea it feels so good to touch yourself there," Thylla stroked her mound, shivering as her fingertips slipped between the moist, oiled folds of her pussy, "Maybe Aylla is right. Maybe it is a great honor to be pleasured..." The days passed quietly, quickly, Thylla rising late, shunned from her family, dutifully eating her simple meals in her room, bathing daily, her skin bronzing from her long days spent in the warm rays. She felt the sun's power as she drowsed beneath it, drinking in its nourishment, her mind and libido awakening during the long, lazy afternoons. Dreaming of her Ryll, she caressed herself, her fingers finding the special places between her firm thighs that caused the warm tingles, the exquisite aching. "Oh course the chosen ones smile that way," she'd think, her fingers stroking her pulsing lips, her hard bud that stiffened when she slid her probing fingers across it, "they know how good this feels. I...cannot wait to join with him." On the appointed day, as the sun rose high in the Solstice-Day sky, Aylla greeted her with a warm hug, whispering in her ear, "Thyll, it's your big day. Are you excited? Hurry, we've got to get you dressed and ready. The priests need you to be at the ritual site by noon, we'd better get moving." Bathed, her darkly-bronzed skin and ripe curves shining in the bright morning, Thylla stood proudly as Aylla anointed her with the fragrant oil. "Almost done," she said brightly as she finished, "We just need to get your "clothing" for the ritual." She reached into a small wooden cask that she's brought along to the spring, "The priests left it for me this morning." Inside the cask were two finely- wrought wreathes of herbs and wild flowers, the bright flowers and tendrils draping richly, the scent exotic and sweetly heady. She placed the smaller one on Thylla's head, admiring the rich adornment, the other, tying the other around Thylla's slim hips. Thylla turned, her arms reaching out for Aylla to slip on a clean shift, "Where's the rest of it?" Thylla wide eyes searched the now-empty cask, "Is this all I'm to wear?" Stepping back, she cocked her head, "Yes. This is all you are to wear. You look gorgeous, Thylla," she started, her eyes shining with pride, "Like a goddess. Your Ryll will be pleased. Come now, we've got to hurry. It's almost noon." "Like this?" Thylla cried, "Someone will see me!" She covered her nakedness with her bronzed arms, suddenly shivery, even under the intense sun, "I don't want everyone to see me!" "No one is to gaze on you, child." Aylla smiled, taking Thylla by the arm, "Everyone is at the Solstice festival, besides, the priests have made sure no one is to meet us on our way. Be quick!" They wound their way through the forest, Aylla busy reminding Thylla of the last-minute details. "You remember your lines, right? And then just do whatever he says, okay? And don't worry. It'll all be over soon." Coming onto a grassy clearing high upon a ridge overlooking the ripening fields of maize stretching out in all directions, Aylla hugged her sister, and straightened her head-wreath, tears welling in her eyes. "That's all for me," She whispered, "Don't run, Thylla. Make us proud. I know you're going to." She backed away, turning towards the forest as she called, "Make us proud, Thyll -- I mean - Zea!" Thylla sat on the sun-warmed grass, fat bees and dragonflies buzzing lazily around her, She stared into the green fields, the corn rustling in the slight breeze, her mind reeling with anticipation and the slightest fear. "What now?" she wondered aloud, her eyes swiveling from the fields to the forest, scanning for signs of him. Her heart was beating fast, her mouth was dry, and she wiped away a slight bead of sweat from her brow. "Where is he?" Her questions were answered, as off in the distance at the far side of the ridge, a figure, tall and lean, entered her view. He strode towards her, his step strong and rapid, and she could just make out his visage, highlighted by the blinding noon-day sun. He was darkly bronzed, as was she, his glossy hair long and dark, curving in waves past his broad shoulders. He was lean and muscled, naked but for a warrior's helmet, a war-belt sitting low on his hips, and a large, glittering ax. Shaking, her body electric with nervousness and anticipation, she turned towards him. Her Ryll was here. "Ryll, my brother," rising unsteadily, she called to him as he neared, remembering the well-rehearsed greeting she had been taught to speak, "How... I've missed you. Are you well? Have you succeeded in the task I set before you? " "Zea, my beloved sister," he spoke back, his voice deep and low, his dark eyes wildy intense behind the dull bronze helmet, "I have returned from the task you set before me. No longer will the forest-dragon harass your pet mortals." He raised the heavy curved ax over his head, waving it savagely through the air, and slammed it down into the earth between them. He slowly removed his helmet, and dropping his war-belt from his hips, totally revealed his dark, thick manhood to her. The fiercely handsome stranger raised his muscled arms to her in greeting, "Embrace me, sister. I need to feel your arms around me." "Oh, Ryll, I have not the words to thank you," Thylla murmured as she stepped towards the stranger who's dark eyes seemed to burn a hole through her, "You have done me a great honor. How can I ever repay you?" She slid into his embrace, her cheek resting against his strong shoulder, her lips brushing the hollows of his collar-bone. He clasped her warmly, his sinewy arms wrapping her body. She could smell the ripe, exotic spices on his oiled body, mixing with the heady masculine musk of his sun-warmed skin. "Zea, I've watched you grow into a woman-goddess," He murmured, his hands stroking her golden curls, "You needn't thank me with your words. Your love... is the token I desire. If you join with me, you will have my undying love, my power, my protection. Give me your gift." His strong hands slid from her curls, traveling down her back as he pressed her hips to his, his fingers reaching under her rounded ass, cupping the firm mounds to him. Thylla gasped as she felt his hard, thick rod press into the hollow of her hips as he urged her to his muscled body. He untied the floral wreath from her hips, the flowers from her hair, letting them fall to the ground, her now-bare skin pressing to him with no encumbrances. "Your gift, sister," he breathed into her ear, "Say you will." "I will, brother," Thylla spoke softly, her face tilting towards his, their eyes locked, "I want to join with you." Thylla's hands went to his face, her fingertips sliding across his roughened cheek as he reached for her mouth with his own. His mouth brushed hers, his lips rough, seeking, and he parted her quavering pout, his tongue thick, insistent. Thylla's eyes, tightly shut, blinked open to the erotic sight of his dark eyes staring down at her as he probed her mouth with his erotic kiss. She felt weak, her knees buckling as a flood of sensations opened to her, a direct line of sensual electricity that went from her mouth, to her breasts, down her spine, the waves of pleasure flowing to her now-tingling pussy. His lips left her now-slick mouth, finding her neck, his embrace forceful, needy. His rough hands roamed her naked back, her shoulders, knotting in her golden curls as he bent her like a willow twig to his body, molding her to him. He tasted the light sweat on her neck, her collarbones and his lips dipped lower, seeking the firm bud of her tanned areola, his other hand reaching to press the other firm mound to her heaving chest. Thylla gasped again as his hot, full lips opened, taking the firm bud into his mouth, sucking and swirling greedily, his hand firmly knotted in her hair, holding her fast as his other hand squeezed and cupped her rounded breasts. His tongue went from one to the other, each urgent caress flooding her with new, violent sensations. Her pussy went from tingling to throbbing, her libido cresting with every touch of his rough hands, every kiss of his hungry lips. He slowed, his tongue reaching out to slide up the length of her breast-bone. Straightening, he crushed Thylla to him, his breath escaping in a throaty sigh as he pressed her face into his shoulder. "Mmmm," he breathed, his voice deep and musical, "How I've waited for this." His hands moved Thylla back a bit, staring into her wide eyes, "I haven't known woman for a great while." He smiled warmly, showing even, white teeth. "I can tell you, the priests were truthful. You are a beauty." "Ummm, Ryll," Thylla murmured hesitantly, "I...I mean..." He cut off her whisper with a finger to her lips, his dark eyes locked on her shining green eyes. "No talking," he whispered back, "You do what I say. Now, lay down. On your back." Thylla complied, the grass and wildflowers soft and comforting under her. Instinctively shutting her eyes, she waited for Ryll, her mind and libido ablaze. Would he take her then? The thought both frightened and aroused her. She tensed, awaiting his next move. "Open your eyes, girl." Thyllas eyes snapped open, and he was standing over her, his hand languidly stroking his dusky, veined cock as he smiled down to her with a crooked half-smile, his eyes dark and hooded. "Do you see this?" He murmured, his voice a deep, slight groan, "Do you see my cock? It wants to give you pleasure. I want to give you pleasure. Now, let me gaze on you." He dropped to his knees, squatting next to her prostrate figure. He surveyed her in the bright noon-day sun, his eyes swarming her body. Laid on her back, her rounded mounds rose and fell with her breath, her belly lightly curved into the hollows of her softly rounded hips, her tightly clamped legs hiding her now-pulsing sex. Licking his lips, he fought back the urge to pry her legs apart and thrust his dark hardness into her immediately. His rough hands went to her thighs, "Open them," he breathed, his eyes burning through hers as his gaze swarmed her body, "I want to see all of you." Thylla complied, spreading her legs, the warm rays of the sun comforting on her now moist, pulsing sex. Ryll inhaled sharply, dropping to his knees as his fingers went to her sex. He traced a line around her slit, parting the soft lips. Sliding a fingertip inside her, he stroked the slick folds, spreading out her moist dew over the pink mounds. His fingers swirled lightly over the light brown, sparse curls of her thatch, slipping between the slit, her clit firming to his deft, swirling touch. "How can hands so rough be so gentle?" Thylla thought wildly as she purred and arched against the warm grass, "And give so much...ahhhh..." Thylla's breathing deepened, quickened, her exhales turning from sighs to soft moans as he probed and stroked her now throbbing pussy, each new touch sending her waves of gratification as she reveled in his caresses. Arching against the sun-warmed earth, she threw her head back, her hands clutching the grass beneath her. Thylla's golden curls mingled with the rustling leaves and the sweet perfume of the wildflowers as she writhed under his expert hands. Thylla felt his hands leave her throbbing pussy, and opening her eyes, saw him lift her hips. He pulled her over his lap, her spread thighs and pulsing pussy tantalizingly close to his dark cock. He pressed his groin to hers, his thick rod brushing her wet slit as he thrust against her lightly, slowly, sliding his hardness against her slit. She felt herself open to his sensual touch, every fiber of her being taut, begging for release. She ground back against him, her hips inviting him to enter her. He slid back, his hands sliding under her ass-cheeks to lift her to him. His chiseled face bent low, his parted lips reaching between her widely-spread thighs. Holding her firmly, his muscled arms and hands lifted her pussy to his seeking mouth. His tongue reached out, lapping the length of her now-wet slit, his lips eagerly exploring her slippery folds, her hard clit, sending spasms of rapture through her. Thylla's wide eyes took in the sight of this muscled, bronzed stranger as he worshipped at her wet pussy, each swirl, each suckle sending her to a higher crescendo. Thylla thrust against his face, her pussy begging to be filled, by his fingers, his cock, at this point, anything. ."Put it in me," she wailed softly, breaking her moaning silence, "Please -- put them in me. Put your fingers in me." He disengaged from her dripping slit, his warm seeking mouth pulling off her. Laying her down, he rose, stretching. "I will fill you," he spoke, his voice thick, "But not with my hands, dear sister." He pushed her knees up, spreading her thighs widely as he positioned himself between them. His hands went to her hips, his rough hands firmly curving over her hip-bones as he lifted her groin to his. "Watch me," he intoned evenly, his face a mask of concentration as he pressed his throbbing rod against her sopping slit, "You're to give me your gift, Zea." He wiped his palm across his mouth, wetting it with saliva, and expertly rubbed his dark, pulsing rod as Thylla stared down at him, her eyes wide with apprehension and arousal. He placed the mushroomed head against her flushed slit, lightly probing, each thrust a little deeper, a little stronger as he tentatively explored her virgin pussy. He had not penetrated her deliberately, until now, as the first thing Zea should know in her goddess-pussy is her brother. Her brother's cock. "Her brother's -- my -- hard fucking cock," he thought wildly, gritting his teeth, fighting back the impulse to tear into her ruthlessly, ram her with his thick, veined hardness and flood her with enough sperm to make a hundred Solstice-babies. "I've got to make this -- make her, oh, by the gods -- she feels so fucking good..." he steadied himself, his thick cock sliding in another tantalizing, tormenting inch, "I've got to make her..." Unable to hold back, he thrust his hips forward, feeling a slight resistance. "Its...her fucking maidenhood," he surmised, marveling at the feel. He didn't really know for sure -- he'd never deflowered a virgin before. He pushed in harder, his cock overcoming the barrier with a sudden thrust. His mind was lost in a fog of lust as he ground into her, his rigid rod swiftly burying to the hilt as his fevered mind raced, "She's so fucking tight -- so delicious...oh, by the fucking gods, she's so..." Thylla, watching Ryll at her sex, felt him as he entered her, his tiny, probing thrusts sweetly delectable and deeply arousing. As he slipped in deeper, the friction from his thick rod caused her to gasp as she saw it sink deeper into her quivering slit. Her breath escaped her in ragged moans and her heart was beating so fast that she thought it was to leap from her chest as she watched his cock sink deeper, ever deeper. Pausing slightly, his thrusts slowing, and then pushing forward, Thylla felt a tiny tearing pain. She threw her head back, a throaty groan issuing from her moist parted lips as he sunk into her fully. Thylla marveled at the feel of him, his dark cock, his muscled, straining back, his rough and tender touch as he ground into her, her slick, straining pussy now fully opened to him. He slowed his thrusting, gazing down at her, a beatific smile on his face. "Are you enjoying this?" he asked tenderly, his dark eyes wide with hers. "Do like me inside you, sister? How does it feel? Answer me." "Yes, brother," Thylla whispered, her dreamy, flushed face smiling back into his. "I like you inside me, it feels so...uhhh...uhnnn...full..." her voice trailed off in a low moan, "You give me... great pleasure, brother-god." "You as well," he bent over Thylla, kissing her moaning lips, "You give me the greatest of pleasures...." He lifted Thylla's hips to him, her shoulders barely touching the ground under her as he started to thrust and grind her anew, his strokes long and firm, his rhythm slow and sensuous, reveling in her tight, wet pussy. His hands left her hips, sliding down to either side of her damp, light thatch, his thumbs parting the soft curls to find her hard clit as he continued his long, deliberate thrusts. One hand went under to the small of her back, balancing her as he found the stiff bud with his fingertips, stroking and swirling against it, causing Thylla to groan thickly, squirming against his rough touch. He increased the pace of his thrusting, each stroke becoming deeper, firmer, faster, as he rubbed her hard clit. Thylla's groans were increasing, her body flooding with the heady awareness of the rough, delicious friction of his hard, slippery cock pounding her soft, hot slit, and his expert fingers whirling on the little bud of pleasure that she had only found, and learned to enjoy, just a fortnight ago. Thylla's eyes were tightly shut as she felt her body responding, overwhelmed by his love-making. She felt herself spasm, the sensations engulfing her, as she moaned thickly, "What is this...what is...aghh...ahhhgg...what am I..." "Open your eyes, Zea, Watch my eyes as you climax with me, beloved sister." Ryll moved over her strongly, his voice deep and masterful, his eyes never leaving hers, "Give me the ultimate gift -- join with me fully -- we are one..." Thylla stared into in his dark eyes, his body silhouetted against the high sun, his body - her body, melding into one as she thrust against him, losing herself in a spasming deluge, the waves of her orgasm crashing over her as he blacked the sun from the sky. Ryll, feeling the strong contractions of her climax, let go of his pent-up lust, thrashing into her as the hot seed raced through his pulsing pole, gushing into her as he groaned his climax, deep and strong, his thick wails music to Thylla's ears. Panting, Ryll pushed Thylla down, laying over her as their twin orgasms ebbed away, their twined bodies wet with sweat, their lips meeting in a slow, soft kiss. Thylla reveled in the feel of his muscled body on hers, now relaxed, spent, comforting. She stared up at the cloudless blue sky, the brilliant, hot, Solstice-sun, hearing the slight breeze rustling through the ripening crops, a secret smile spreading over her lips. "And this is why they smile," she mused wickedly, "I'd smile, too. I am... a goddess." Ryll his bronzed arms wrapping her for a final hug, grinned warmly, almost shyly, as he rolled off her to his back, propping himself by the elbows, "Thank you," he said softly, "I am honored." He continued hesitantly, his dark eyes downcast as he spoke, "I...have to ask you something, even though I'm pretty sure that...ummm...you did. You must swear that it's the truth. It is very important." He faced her, his eyes hopeful, "Did you achieve the ultimate pleasure? I know...I did." "Yes, Ryll." Thylla whispered back, "You were very...tender with me. I'll always treasure...this." "Then, good," He sprang to his feet, picking up his war-belt and helmet, "I have to take my leave of you and report back to Halan at the Temple. Goodbye, Zea, my beloved. May the blessings of Zea be upon us." "Peace be with you, and blessings of the harvest to you, Ryll." Thylla answered back, remembering her line, "My beloved." He backed away, his helmet, ax and war belt in hand, his smile warm, as he waved farewell and disappeared from her view, striding across the ridge. The Rites of Zea Thylla rose and stretched, her body sore from the ritual, a slight ache between her legs. Her hand went to her sex, feeling the slick flood of seed, "Ryll's seed," she marveled, lifting her fingertips to her mouth to taste the slick fluid. She leaned back against the sun-warmed grass, idly toying with her flowered head-piece, re-living the past hours, lost in thought as she drowsed in the glow of the afternoon's rays. "Even if this is the only time I am to know man, it's enough," she mused happily, replaying his perfect hardness in her mind, lost in her delicious memories, "It is enough." "Thyll! Thyll-aa!" a voice ran out from the forest's edge. Thylla glanced up to see her sister running towards her, carrying a fine shift of green silk edged in gold thread, "I was sent by the priests -- I came as quickly as I could. Are you okay?" "Here, you can cover yourself now. Let's get this on you," she said, her eyes shining with pride, "You should see what the priests have left at the house! Beautiful gifts for you! And gold, Thyll, gold!" "And they said that Ryll has reported that you have pleased him greatly, and more importantly," she narrowed her eyes, leveling them at Thylla, now smoothing the fine tunic over her, "If... he gave you the ultimate pleasure, there's no end to what they will bestow on us! Aren't we lucky? By the gods, Thyll, we hit the jackpot!" "So tell me, tell me!" Aylla crowed, her arms reaching to Thylla for a hug, "Did you?" Thylla smiled, that secret smile, and she answered, "That is for the Halan's ears only, Aylla. You know the rules. Let's go home. I'm...hungry." Thylla's life did change. She was feted and honored, as Halan had every assurance from her, and Ryll, that the ceremony was of the highest quality. She had performed perfectly. The gold bestowed on the family was a great blessing, with Father relieving Thylla of all chores, as was instructed by the Temple. They would take no chance on losing a Solstice-baby, if there was to be one. "There's a Solstice-baby in there, I call tell!" Father would say, patting her belly appreciatively, "Now, if we can just get past your monthly visitor, all will be well!" After Thylla did not get her monthly visitor at the next full moon, even Mother came around, bragging to the all the neighbors and shoppers at the market that, "Her daughter was the most successful Zea ever, I mean, have you seen the crops this year? That's her doing, you know! You can thank me for raising such a fine daughter! And with the god's willing -- we are to have us a Solstice-baby, yet!" The harvest was bountiful that year, a record crop that filled the bins to bursting, bringing wealth and security to the region. As Thylla moved through the Autumnal Equinox festival in her rich robes, her golden curls bedecked with gold and jade ornaments, she smiled her secret smile to the well-wishing festival-goers, her hands protectively cradling her slight, swollen belly. "Welcome, Solstice-baby," she said, smiling inwardly, "I hope... you look like Ryll." THE END The Ritual I can't believe what I have been thinking. After all she is my best friend's sister. I have been staying with him during the first part of our summer after graduation. I lie here every night and watch her do the most amazing things, sort of a ritual, before she goes to bed. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself. As I said, I am staying for part of the summer with the family of my best friend from college. His name is Dave, mine is Sebastian, Sebastian Robin, call me Bash. Having just graduated, I was looking forward to starting my new job as an investigator with his Father's company. But, again back to the important stuff. Her name is Angel, a very descriptive handle. She is just eighteen years old, about 5'1", long auburn hair and big brown eyes. She is very petite, has a lovely ass and firm breasts. Her personality is just like her name. I have been here for a week and she and I have had a few interesting conversations. Mostly about her lack of a sex life. She told me it's her choice, she just wants to wait for somebody special. I've heard about how she has let a couple of the boys from school have a little treat and play with her, and the football player she gave the blow job after the homecoming game, while he returned the favor on her. But only someone special would take her virginity. The room that I have been staying in is right next to hers, I can even see into her room through the corner window. That's the real problem. You see, every night it's the same thing. She has a little ritual that she goes through every night before bed. She enters the bedroom and lights a few candles on her dresser. Usually, she is wearing a mid-drift T-shirt and either very short shorts or a tiny mini skirt. See...... there she is now. Watch, first, she stands in front of the mirror and admires herself, and then she slowly removes her shorts or skirt. Each times the same. Then she is standing only in the shorty top and silky panties, always silk. She turns to see her little ass in the mirror and smiles as her hands examine her breasts. Never have I seen her in a bra. Next, the top is removed and once again she stands and appreciates her body, as do I. First she moistens one finger and circles her nipple on the left breast, then a finger on the other hand and another circle around the right nipple. Then thumb and finger are licked and she pinches and pulls on the left nipple, and repeats for the right. This is continued a few more times with each nipple. After which she sits on the corner of the bed, slides back, lies on the bed, and raises both legs up into the air, slowly. She then lifts her ass and slips off the silky material that covers her, lowers her legs and places her feet on the bed. This leaves her knees bent and me a perfect view of her lovely pussy. Her head rests on a couple of pillows so that she has the same view as me. Back to licking one finger and sliding it along the slit of her pussy, teasing the light wispy hair. Then a repeat performance with the other hand. Needles to say, I am doing a little handling of my own. Finally, she rewards me with a view of her parted lips as she seeks out her clit. Taking the small, sensitive bit of flesh between her thumb and finger, she softly pinches as she rubs. The look on her face is breathtaking. The other hand is given the envious task of entering the folds and pushing past the moistened lips of that spectacular pussy. The steady building, in and out rhythm, combined with the gentle teasing, soon has her lifting her ass off the bed to meet each ever-deepening push of her fingers. Her eyes now closed, I can see she is about to cum. As I am about to join her I also lay back my head and close my eyes. Missing the site of her, I slowly open my eyes for another look and realize that she is gone; she is not on her bed. At almost the same time I hear a soft voice behind me say, " Hi, is that for me?" Startled, I cover my lap with my hands and look around to see that I had forgotten to lock my door, and Angel was standing in the doorway, bare as a newborn, still teasing the soft hairs between her legs. She tells me not to be embarrassed; she has been waiting for me to take the hint for a week. That's why she started this delightful ritual of hers. She tells me, "If you can see me, what makes you think that I can't see you too?" But having waited long enough, she just decides to take matters into her own hands. With that she takes my hands away from their resting place and tells me she would love to see my cock. She reaches forward and gentle strokes me, looking into my eyes for a brief second or two. Then very slowly and gently she licked my shaft and squeezed my balls. I was in heaven; I won't be able to keep this up for very long at all. She circles her tongue around the head and then slides her mouth down until I can feel myself in her throat.. A few more licks and I am exploding into that sweet little mouth as she swallows every drop. When I am again able to control my eyelids, she is looking into my eyes, her lip glistening with the last traces of my cum. She says, "You know, I have always thought that you were very special". Then she slides onto the bed beside me and lays her head on my still heaving chest. Then I pull her close to me and can feel her heart beating against my chest. Her nipples are pressing into my flesh and her hands are playing with the hair on my chest. As she raises her head from me, kissing me, and running her tongue around my nipples, I take her tiny face in my hands and kiss her tenderly on her warm soft lips. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can't believe that you want me." "I have wanted you since I was a very little girl. When I play with myself, I close my eyes and see your face. I know we've just met, but you have filled my wet dreams since they first started. I know it sounds silly, but I mean every word of it." Then she kisses me again and rolls onto her back, pulling me along. I lie on top of her and suck on her tongue as she probes my mouth. She has one hand on my ass and the other gripping my cock, which has already sprung back to life. Her hips are humping her pussy against my leg and my cock is rubbing along her tight little belly. I lift myself off of her and look at her lying below me. There are tears in her eyes and she is moaning softly. I am on my hands and knees as I start to lick and kiss her all over. Taking her nipples into my mouth, one, then the other. I suck and nibble on them as they grow with each touch. She reaches up and cups her lovely titties, holding them together to offer them to my tongue and lips. Continuing down across her belly, following the curve across the front of her hips. I begin teasing the hair covering her sweet, wet box. Her hands are still massaging her breasts and pulling at her nipples as I slide my tongue along her tender lower lips. Opening her with my fingers I lick around and then into her pussy. Finding her clit I suck it into my mouth. This sets her off like flicking a switch. "OOOooooooohhhh yes, that.. is... sooo... nice, please don't stop. Push your tongue inside me, please." She is pushing her pussy against my tongue and lips. I can feel her pulse in her clit as I suck it into my mouth. Pushing my tongue into the hood around the little button of flesh, I circle my tongue around and around her clit. She is bucking her hips and trying to pull my face in even closer to her. Pushing herself hard against me. As she starts to cum I lift her hips and sit up so her legs are across my shoulders, never stopping the tonguing I am giving her clit. My fingers slipping into the hot wet hole of her cunt. Her muscles are pulling at my fingers as she continues to cum. When she begins to reach the end of her orgasm I push my thumb into her tight little ass as deep as I can. She starts to cum again, my tongue licking her cum as it flows. "YES, YES, PLEASE put your cock in me. I want you deep... please." Lowering her hips back to the bed, I rub the head of my cock along her pussy and across her clit. Then I put my cock at the opening of her cunt and push it in just a bit. "I will go slow, Angel, I don't want to hurt you." "I don't care, I want you in me NOW." I push in slowly until I feel myself pressing against her cherry; I pull out and continue to rock in and out to get her ready for me to enter. I pull her very close and tight as I push in hard and feel her flesh open and let me past. She throws her arms around my neck and yells. "OOOOHHHHH.... GOD.... THAT.... HURTS.... PLEASE.... don't stop.... please fuck me... more.... I can feel it.... I'm cummmminnnngggg aaagggggggaaaiiiimnnnn OOOOOHHHHHHHHH SHHHHIIITTTT." I start to thrust into her faster and faster, harder with each stroke. Angel has started to relax her grip on my neck and is matching my strokes and starting to kiss and suck on my chest. She is again raising her ass off the bed and pushing harder against my thrust. I am on my knees with her hips in my arms, fucking harder and faster, as she cums again. At the same moment, I begin to shoot my cum deep inside her pussy. We continue for about a dozen hard deep strokes, then I fall forward onto her and continue to move into her with short slow strokes. She wraps her legs around my hips and her arms pull me back close to her as she kisses me hard. I roll onto my back and pull her on top of me. She lays her head down on my chest and I can hear her start to cry a little. "I am sooooo very happy you came here. I am soooo glad I met you." We spent the rest of the night lying together, until we heard the front door and remembered her parents were still coming home tonight. She sits up quickly, kisses me, and starts out the door back to her room. Stopping for a moment at the door, she looks at me and says, " I can't wait until tomorrow night." She blows me a kiss and disappears. As the light goes on in her room, my cock starts to rise again. Seems it has a mind of it's own. The Ritual Summary: Evil he was. Darkness incarnate. The harbinger of the end. But even he had the capacity to love. Claimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to persons alive or dead are purely coincidental. These authors hold exclusive rights to this work and unauthorized reproduction is strictly prohibited. Warnings: Explicit descriptions of sex, strong language, involves beings of Hell. Note 1: Credit must also go to my good friend Chris for helping me develop this idea and for being the one with whom it sprang up in the first place. Note 2: This little oneshot was the result of an RP I was doing with my friend Chris. After it was written, we decided to make a story out of it. Whether or not this exact oneshot will make it into the final version is yet to be seen. Chris helps me brainstorm and roleplays scenes I need with me, but ultimately it's me who is writing the actual story, which means I'll no doubt have to cut things here and there and all around. However, this will always stay our first, and a story in itself, even if it isn't included in the novel. I simply needed to make this clear to explain why certain things simply aren't...well...explained. XD. Please enjoy, and if you like this, look out for Forbidden Legacy! * She smiled at him, and he could see the demon side of her showing in the crimson hue of her eyes. "What do you want, my little devil?" His wings unfurled slowly, releasing him from the protective embrace he had enfolded himself in and he rose up, speaking in a very quiet and very nearly distorted voice. "To Claim you." She shivered, but they did not call her Sirenfire for nothing. Her coal black brow arched and she began to circle him with all the purpose of a praying tigress. "Hmmm... but what if I wish to claim you, my little devil?" Her fangs were beginning to show. The wings flapped ever so slightly, as if he was stretching them out in defiance, but his entire body was beginning to hum in anticipation. "Come then...see if you can bring the devil to his knees." His fingers flexed once, then again. And he turned his head just enough so that he was looking right at her with those deep crimson orbs. She smiled and approached, reaching for him, and he saw that her nails had lengthened into crimson claws, like drops of fresh blood at the tips of her slender fingers. Gently, for he was her devil and she did not wish to harm him anymore than it would take him to submit to her, she trailed the points of those deadly claws across the side of his neck, not drawing blood, but leaving faint red lines, marking him as hers. "You are mine, Lucifer," she murmured as she moved forward and soothed the lines with her fiery little tongue. "Mine." "As you are mine, little Siren." His clawed hand grasped her upper arm, but gently. He could no more hurt her than he could cut off his own arm. Gently he pulled her up against him, bowing his head down to softly kiss her lips. When he pulled from her mouth, he pressed another kiss to her lower lip, then to her neck, and then she felt it; the soft nip as he worried the vein so that it would be present. Then his teeth sank into the supple flesh, and he fed. She moaned at the burning pain of it. He always did this to her, marked her as his own, just as she would mark him. The pain never remained long, but blossomed into mind-blowing pleasure strong enough to make her orgasm off of it without him even having to truly touch her. Her blood flowed from her neck and into his mouth for a long, long moment. He allowed himself to savour the taste before pulling his head back. As he did so, his wings slowly folded around them both, encompassing them in a protective shell. Siren glanced up at him pensively for a moment, before a feral smile split her features, and her little claws tangled themselves in his long ebony locks, darker even than the hatred they both held for all mortal, angel and human kind. Moving her lips to his neck, she returned the offer of their blood, sucking with relish, enjoying his soft moans as her teeth pierced him. [What do you want from me, my little devil,] she asked him through their mind touch. [Do you want me to claim you, or would you like me to be claimed? You may be mine, but you are my saviour, and hence, my master.] "Take my blood. Drink of me." His voice was quiet, but there was power behind it; incredible power behind his speech. And so she drank. She revelled in the power he was allowing her. Never before had he allowed anyone, whether it be minion, slave, sidekick or loyal follower this close to him. He had taken many demonesses to bed, this she knew, but she also knew that in this act, he was pledging the rest of his life, his very soul to her; to only her. And so she was gentle, yet firm, accepting yet also giving him time to reconsider, to push her away. However, she knew if he chose the latter, he would be forced to kill her to sever the blood bond they were creating. He tilted his head just a little bit as she drank, and he murmured a quiet encouragement before he actually spoke."You no longer bow to anyone or anything. You are my queen now and always." Gently he pulled her mouth away from his neck. "The mother of my children, my sacred lover." Her smile could have destroyed the land of angels with its sheer demonic beauty. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, no longer needing to wait for him to make the first move. She had always been a bold little demon, and it had ended up with her flung over her Dark Lord's knees numerous times, but in all that, she had never lost her fire. Now she was being allowed to share that fire, to rise above the minions who had always taunted her, calling her a foundling, a half-breed bastard. She would show them all. Yes she would show them. Especially Ragnar, the dark Lord's second-in-command, the demon who had attempted to have her after Lucifer had announced she was not to be touched. She wanted to deliver his punishment herself, but the more primal part of her that loved her Devil's possessiveness wanted to sit back and watch as Lucifer tore the slimy fuck to bits with his bare claws. Yes, she thought to herself, that would be very agreeable indeed. A smile touched Lucifer's lips. He was now tied to his mate's thoughts and desires, and he knew exactly what she wanted. So he would give her that. He would give her the world. Slowly he pulled her back to arms length, then lifted a clawed hand to run it through her locks. Evil he was. Darkness incarnate. The Harbinger of the End. But even he had the capacity to love. And he loved this demoness in his arms. And because he loved her, he would not...could not resist her. When he spoke, his voice was almost a purr. "We will make the entire world know that you and I are one." "Luci..." she breathed, using the nickname that would spell quick and violent death to any other who dared use it."I love you. With all the soul I do not have, I love you. Kiss me?" "With pleasure." He dipped his head down and touched his mouth softly to hers, but the soft kiss quickly turned to demanding and passionate in only the space of a few moments as he slid his tongue into her mouth, twining it with her own. She growled like the little lioness she could become at will and shoved him backward so that the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed hard. She was only a slip of a thing, but she had always been one of his strongest demons. It is what, aside from her unnatural beauty, attracted him to her in the first place. And now that she had drunk of him, his strength was coursing through her veins, not as prominent as his; she would never be as strong as her master, but it was close. Lucifer landed hard, and the next thing he knew, she was on him, kissing, sucking, biting and licking. "I want to take you, my little devil," she growled as she pulled away, her usually soft voice deepening to a demoness's feral snarl. "I want you to belong to me, heart... body... mind... soul..." His chuckle dominated the room as he rose to his elbows and gazed at her with eyes aflame with desire. Unlike his previous lovers, she had the courage to be assertive and to say that it turned him on would be an understatement. "Come here and take it. It is yours." When she got to him, he reached out and yanked her atop him, kissing her almost brutally while his clawed hands dug into that perfect skin, leaving deep marks and in at least two places, drawing blood. "Come share yourself with me; make us whole." His mouth touched one of the punctures and he looked up at her. "Bear our future in your womb." She let out a wild cry of feminine want and slid down his body. "Yes! I want your child! Give me your child! Ooohh!" She was already wet and wanting, but was foreplay in his thoughts tonight? She didn't know and she did not wish to ruin the only chance she might ever have of dominating her dark lord. And then the reality of her situation hit her hard as she straddled him, gazing down into his dark eyes, blacker than the very abyss and glowing faintly orange with his lust. "Luci...?" her voice had returned to that of a frightened girl, not the lusty demoness she had been only moments before. "I... I don't know what to do." He had forgotten in all her power and beauty that she was very young and very innocent in such primal matters. Her upbringing had labelled all pleasures of the flesh as the very embodiment of sin, and he himself had allowed none other to touch her. "I will show you." His mouth touched hers gently, Ever so gently and he rolled, placing her on her back. "And as I show you, you will learn." He then pressed a kiss to her neck, then to her collar bone, and while doing this, he dipped two fingers down between her thighs, pressing softly against her soaking core. "Mmmmm...Already wet. My beautiful mate...my dark goddess." Siren moaned, but at the same time she felt a sudden surge of possessive jealousy. How dare anyone have her Lucifer before her! How dare he ever have shared this intimacy with just any common demon! A furious growl escaped her lips before she could bite it back. He looked at her, then he moved up and he spoke against her ear. "There is no one but you, mi'love. Will be no one but you." And so saying, he shifted between her legs and pressed his shaft against her entrance, gazing into her eyes. Some demons hadn't cared if it had hurt...or they had already lost it, but this one....this one was young, and so very precious to him. "Siren...I love you, but this may hurt." She nodded and tensed. "I know," she said. Demon or not, she had not yet reached her 100th year, and she was not above fear yet. He gentled her with his hands and whispered, "I will try not to make it hurt too much." As he looked at her, an idea came to mind. The Thrall. He would use that on her; at least to make it pleasurable instead of painful. His voice took on a quiet lilt, and despite the fact that he wanted her now; he kept himself in firm check. "Siren, look at me." When he had her attention, his eyes took on a glittering, mirror-like quality, rimmed with flaming silver and imbued with a crimson light. When he saw hers glaze over, he leaned down just a little, and then pushed in, piercing her in one motion. She felt a faint tearing and a mild sensation of discomfort, but there was not a hint of pain. She felt full, completed and enraptured. Soon, pleasure began to build inside her, frightening in its intensity, and he had done naught but sheathe himself within her. "What is this new evil?" she whimpered as a jolt shot through her when his hips touched her clit. "Luci... stop... I'm dying!" "Mmmmmm... but what a way to go. Don't think. Just feel." He took his time, letting her just feel, and then as if his hips were not stopping to consult his brain, he began to move within her. At first his strokes were short and controlled, at least to allow her to adapt to having him inside her for the first time, then the thrusts steadily became longer and slightly harder. Lucifer's head dropped forward a little and he let out a quiet moan of pleasure. None of his previous lovers had EVER been this tight, or had ever caused him this much pleasure. Trusting him, Siren allowed all thought to cease. All she did was feel, and...Oh! What sensations they were! She began to pant as he moved within her, his hard hot length hitting something deep inside her with every thrust. Something that made her keen and writhe beneath him, arching up to meet him, her walls cascading into satin wetness around him so that his plunges were smooth as silk and the sound of him entering and leaving her began to fill the room. Her desire was that potent... that...that...ooohh...thought was leaving him, just as it was leaving her. "Lift your hips a little, my lover." His voice was husky from the pleasure, and it being husky made it deeper. "I promise it will feel even better." She was like hot oiled satin surrounding his shaft, squeezing him in just the right places to cause flashes of euphoria to go off within his mind and body as she wriggled and writhed beneath him. Siren moaned and did as he had commanded her, lifting her hips up and...Oh oh oh! Her eyes, black with passion and not crimson with possessive fire widened and her mouth opened in a little O of shocked pleasure. He couldn't help but chuckle huskily; she looked so young at that moment. Her mouth snapped shut with a little pop and she pouted fetchingly. "Making fun of me." It was a sullen statement, not a question. "Such a beautiful little demon. So hot;" he pushed into her slowly; "So wanton..." As his shaft brushed against her clit from within, he gently dragged the tip of his nail over that burning dot. "And all mine." She keened and wriggled her hips against him. "Please...please...more...!" He began to pump harder, then pressed his finger to that silken button as he thrust into her again, this time completely filling her up. "With Pleasure," he growled, beginning to pant. Then, it happened. It was as though she were rushing toward something truly vast, something truly up high. As a demon of the underworld, this feeling of being so high made her whimper in terror even as she sped toward the pinnacle of this vast emotion. Were they finally coming for her? Had the angels finally discovered her betrayal? What was happening to her? And why wasn't Lucifer saving her?! He could tell what was happening and he looked to her. Looked right into her eyes. "Don't be afraid. Just feel. Don't think." Her eyes flew open as white light began to pulsate behind the lids and he saw that they were a crystal blue, the colour they always turned when she was scared, though he had never seen them this clear before. She was truly petrified. "I don't want to feel this!" she shrieked, "I'm dying! No!" She whimpered and tried to struggle, though her movements were doing nothing but turning him on even more and furthering her terror as the pleasure within her spiked higher and higher, ready to fling her over the edge of this new and unknown feeling. "Siren. Just feel. It's your body. It's all in your body." His arms wrapped tightly about her and he held her protectively close to him as he rocked into her again and again. "It is something those fools up there never allowed you to feel." His voice was as soothing as it was sensuous. "They never let you feel this because it was forbidden. Now it is ours. Yours and mine." Her head fell back against the pillows, dark hair spilling over red satin, eyes shut tightly, lips parted, panting. She was glistening with sweat, her skin flushed, neck marked, hips never losing the frantic rhythm he was setting. She was going to tumble over this new edge and she knew now that it was safe to... but who would catch her on the bottom? And would it hurt to fall? He was so close to falling himself; so very close to careening over that precipice, but he was also watching her, watching her every single reaction to what she was feeling, and seeing the surprised and stunned pleasure on her face lit him ablaze, causing a sensation of warmth to flood him from within. This was his doing. All his very own doing. "Yes...that's it. Let it take you over, mi'love...let the pleasure wash through you." And she did. It crashed over her in a wave of magnificent sensation, seeming to lift her off the very foundations of all she held dear and stable. With a wild, keening kittenish howl she exploded, fire flashing around both of them, her walls clenching around him, becoming sodden as more and more wetness cascaded from her. "Yes! Yes!" she was near incoherent with pleasure. "Cum inside me! Fill me! GIVE ME YOUR CHILD!" He let out a deep roar, one that could be heard from even the lower areas of hell as he exploded, thrusting hard and fast as his dark seed gushed into her tender womb. "MINE!!! MY OWN!!!" His teeth sank into her neck yet again, claiming her as the torrent of his orgasm took over. "Yes! Oh Oh Aaahhh!" her shrieks were the song of her surrender, and they resonated through his entire being. "Yours! ALWAYS YOURS!" Her teeth sank into his neck just as his latched onto hers, and once more they drank of each other as their climaxes peaked and their souls fused into one. The ritual was complete. She was his forever now. The Ritual She comes to him in the still of the night. There is no sound except for the creaks and cracking of a house that can only come in total darkness. Without opening his eyes, he feels her lift the sheets and crawl in beside him, feeling her body snuggle up from behind. Her familiar feminine scent fills the air of the room, her pointed breasts with rock hard nipples now pressing into his back. He begins to lift his head and as per the nightly ritual, he holds still as she binds his eyes shut tight. She rolls him over onto his back, raising his arms above his head, and slowly ties his hands to the headboard posts. She is straddling him, her body swaying above his. He can feel her soft tummy on his chest, her breasts scraping against his light beard as she makes sure he is secured. Her breath feels so damn good on his face as she kisses her way down, across his cheeks, barely touching his lips, his chin. She pushes his face upwards and sucks ever so gently on his neck, leaving little love bites as she works her way to his hard nipples. He lets out an eerie groan as she tugs them with her teeth, making him emit a raspy shrill hiss through his clenched teeth. Not a word is spoken; it never is as she teasingly moves downwards licking his navel area until finally, she allows the tip of his hard penis to brush against her lips. His cock twitches, doing a small dance as she tries her best to tongue the dripping wetness, without using her hands to guide his swollen member. Finally the head pops into her mouth, allowing her cheeks to cave in around the shaft as she sucks tightly. Like a small vacuum she sucks every drop of pre-cum, swallowing it as if it was some rare wine. He struggles, wanting to pull her tightly against him, to feel her whole body against his but she rebukes him, preferring to tease, taunt and tantalize him. All too soon she pulls away from his rigid flesh and she crawls up his body. Using her hands on his shoulders, she pushes herself upright until she is straddling his waist, and agonizingly slow, she lowers herself onto him. Her wet pussy envelops his cock at a snail's pace, one inch at a time. She begins to rock her hips, using them as a pendulum to take him a bit deeper with every swing of her pelvis. He wraps his fingers around the material that bind his hands and he uses them for momentum as he tries to match her stroke for stroke. He pushes his groin up, hoping that in some miraculous way; he can go so deep into her womb so that he becomes a part of her, a part of her soul. As she rides him she leans forward, kissing him, their tongues doing battle, a dance. Her soft hair cascades around his face; he wishes he could see it, the colors and the shape, instead settling for the feel as it creates a web of sensuality around him. As if fucking to some symphony, their bodies move in complete unison, a familiarity of a couple that had been making love for years, knowing what drove the other to the highest of heights. She rides his cock as if she is riding in the Kentucky Derby, urging him on, bringing him to the finish line, a true champion. She grabs his nipples tugging them, making him fuck her harder, faster, and all too soon he feels himself shooting up into her sweet love hole, her pussy milking every drop of his hot thick cum. She falls forward, collapsing on him as his cock twitches, releasing every miniscule bit of spunk for her. As they lay there, their breathing returning to normal, he whispers in her ear how much he loves her, only to be shushed, her fingers covering his lips, the signal to just enjoy the moment. He is sure he hears her softly crying, whimpering, and he feels his own tears start to form. She gives him the sweetest kiss a man could hope for, and almost like chloroform, he is off to dreamland. When he awoke the next morning, the dream still so lifelike in his head, the tears returned as he thought back to the nightly ritual of the last month, the recurring dreams ever since his wife of 30 years passed away, knowing it was her coming to him as she promised she would. He sadly turned over and his eyes opened wide. There was her lipstick on the pillow and red silk stockings still tied to the bedpost. Could it have been? The Ritual The Crisis The kingdom of Aksala was in crisis. It was surrounded by Invader's army by all sides. The army had cut off all the trade routes. The food stores of the kingdom could only survive for one more week. The king had called an emergency gathering. All the efforts of negotiation with Invader's army had failed. Evacuation of civilians was not possible due to the army on the outside. All the lords and commanders had assembled in the Hall. Tension stretched throughout the Assembly Hall. The Assembly hall was a large hall at the centre of the Royal Palace. It was created such that a king's voice could clearly reach the far corners of the hall. White tapestries with an uncoiled dragon on them hung from the walls depicting the Royal signet. The king sat in the high chair at the head of the hall. His face was haggard and he had a defeated look in the eyes. Murmurs were heard all over the hall, some ranging from the incompetence of the king, to the power wielded by the Invader. "Silence" ordered the king. When only silence remained he spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in a grave crisis. The Invader has blocked all the routes going outside the kingdom. Evacuation of people is not possible. Food stores cannot be restocked. Our maximum survival time in siege would be two weeks to a month." This caused a murmur of voices. When the murmurs did quiet, the king continued. "I am faced with two choices. One is to fight the invader, which will cause loss of many lives but it will be a quicker end. Second is to wait for a miracle to happen and die of starvation in the process. The Invader is not keen on using the army as he seems to be in waiting mood. He is waiting for us to fall." The last sentence seemed to make him age by another ten years. The king had heard of discontent growing among his lords. He feared some may go behind his back and kill him and his sons and then negotiate a deal with the Invader. He seethed at such a cowardly act. That is why he had called this gathering. The Royal Line had a tradition of witches from the time they had first come into rule. These witches had helped the kingdom in many battles and administrative endeavors. He motioned for his page to bring in the Witch. There was silence in the Assembly Hall when the Witch entered with a cackling laugh. Everyone knew that Witches were mad. They could easily curse you and turn you in to a toad. So they were fearful and distantly respectful of the witches. The Witch cackled as she came to a stop. Then with a cringing voice she asked, "How may I help, Your Majesty?" The king had to give credit to the Witch. She always knew when he needed her help. This fact always frustrated him. He schooled his expression and then in a steady tone addressed his audience. "This is the Royal Witch. Her ancestors have been with the Royal Line since time immemorial. Today I have brought her here, because she has a solution for our problems." A loud cheer went up. It was all the people could do in a helpless situation. When the cheer did settle, the king addressed the Witch. "Tell us all about the solution, Witch." With a cackling laugh, the Witch turned to the lords and commanders. "The Kingdom is on the verge of losing its freedom. The men of the Royal Line have the power to defeat the Invader. But the power has been dormant for so long, that it has vanished. There seems to be a ritual, that if performed can return the powers and thus save the kingdom." A chorus of voices went up. All wanted their questions answered. The Witch continued nonetheless. "In the past when the Royal Line was active and fighting for survival, the women of the Line had performed a ritual. They had sacrificed something they had to the holy spirits, so they could pay the price for the power that would make their husbands and brothers invincible." She paused to see if anyone would disturb her. She was only met with silence. She continued. "However for a few centuries our kingdom has remained unchallenged and the king and his successors lost their power. With changing time, the women of the Royal Line forgot the value of the sacrifices and started living a lavish life. This has led us to this point of time." The king thoughtfully added, "We have let our ancestors down. Tell me Witch; is there a way to regain the power?" The Witch turned to her king. She folded her hands around her chest and said, "The Royal Line may have forgotten their past glory but we witches have studied it time and again. We can still perform the ritual and the powers can return." Someone in the crowd yelled "Do it." This started a chant of "Do it" in the assembly hall. "What will you need for the ritual?" The king asked. "We will need the cooperation of the women of Royal Line. The ritual can be performed on a full moon night which happens to be tomorrow." The witch replied. The king turned to the Queen. His eyes pleaded her to say yes. The Queen who was so far quiet and sitting behind a curtain said, "The Witch will have our complete cooperation." Another cheer went up. The Queen got up and strode towards her chambers. She knew about this ritual. All the Queens were taught about it during their education. However it was her daughters she was afraid for. After she was tamed by the ritual she would not have any say in her daughter's welfare. Her daughters would be by themselves in this cruel world. She steeled herself for her inevitable future and went in to her chambers for one last night of her freedom. The Sacrifice. Queen Merida of Aksala, entered the ritual room. It was a circular room and was surrounded by high walls and a huge dome. There were small gaps in the ceilings so as to allow moon light inside. The Queen stopped in front of the witch. "Witch, is there any other solution apart from the ritual?" She asked her voice laced in desperation. "No majesty. It is not possible. Pleasing the Holy Spirit is one thing, but displeasing it can have serious repercussions." The witch replied solemnly. The witch looked up into the sky. The moon was still covered in clouds. Only Moon Magic could help perform the ritual. The witch silently prayed for the Moon to reveal itself. As if some god heard her prayer, the clouds parted. Moon light filtered from the windows and fell on the Queen and witch. The witch's body hummed with the power. This was the day when all the Witches went up for the Hunt. For the betterment of the kingdom, the ever loyal Witch would perform the ritual. It was prophesied that the King of Aksala will rewrite history of the ancestors. Today she was going to play her part in the prophecy. "Prepare yourself Queen. Time is not on our side." The witch said. The Queen gave a nod and strode purposefully towards her quarters. It was time to gather her daughters and put them away to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, all the adult women of the Royal Line were present in the Ritual Chamber. Five circles were made of some magical white powder. All the circles were directly under moon light. The witch faced each of them and said, "Kindly shed all your clothes and stand over in the circles I have made." Each of the ladies, including the Queen stripped and entered the circles. The Witch started chanting something. A dim blue aura formed around her body. Soon an invisible barrier had formed where the circles were made and effectively trapped each of the ladies in the circular prisons. The witch turned towards the Queen and said, "I will start with you, milady." The Queen swallowed audibly. "This ritual is performed so that the men of the Royal Line can harness the dormant power that their Line carries. Due to some reason, this power can only be invoked after pleasing the Holy Spirit. All you ladies standing here have nothing material that you can offer, But a sacrifice must be offered to the Holy Spirit to harness the power. The sacrifice that you will provide is your FREEDOM." There was shocked silence. Then the younger of the women started banging on the barriers. The effort however was useless. "My Queen, kindly ready yourself." The witch said and started chanting. Under the moon light, the Queen started feeling the effects of magic on her body. She felt her waist contracting. She looked down and saw a long metal band wrapping itself around her waist. Once it covered her waist, it started contracting. Within moments her waist size was reduced and she was feeling dizzy. The Queen's sisters and other women of the Royal Line saw her changing and renewed their banging. About a minute of banging and wailing later, they became silent. They had resigned themselves to their fate. They watched their Queen changing helplessly. The metal corset had finished its contractions, when they saw strips of metals extending from it and moving towards their mother's crotch. Slowly the crotch plate formed and sealed itself in place. Their Queen was now effectively under chastity. They were horrified. When the Queen saw the horrified expressions on the other women's faces, she looked down and wailed. The magic was spreading over her body and she had no control over it. After the crotch plate had fixed itself, metal bands started forming on her arms. The metal bands were located at her wrists and elbows. The magic forced her hands to go behind her back and she felt her elbows drawing close. Pain shot in her arms and shoulders when her elbows touched together. Her wrist bands had also joined each other. The pain was intense and a sense of breathlessness overcame her. Yet, she remained upright. She had to remain strong; after all she was still the Queen. The other women watched in horrified silence as the arms of the Queen were joined behind her back. They saw metal bands forming at Queen's ankles and just above the knees. When the bands had fixed themselves, small chains formed from nowhere and fixed themselves between the metal bands. It dawned on them that they were now going to be hobbled. Some women renewed their thrashing while the others looked on with a resigned look. The Queen felt the final item latch onto place on her body. It was a metal collar. It was humiliating to find herself collared. "Thank you milady. Your courage will be remembered for the many generations to come." The witch said and moved towards the other women. Soon the ladies were writhing and thrashing around the barrier as they were restrained by the Moon Magic. They tried to look towards their Queen with pleading eyes. They found only hollow and defeated look in her eyes. One by one the witch performed the ritual on every woman present in the Ritual Chamber. When the ritual completed, a cloud cover slid over the moon, darkness filling the room. The witch clapped her hands, and lights lit up in the lamps located around the chamber. In the light, several of the royal maids came and put huge cloaks on the shoulders of the women. The cloaks reached up to the ankles. This helped covering most of the restraints from prying eyes. Only the collar was visible. All the women were slowly led to their chambers. They found it difficult to shuffle at first with the small chains around their ankles, but soon were shuffling towards their respective quarters. Somewhere around the kingdom a war horn was sounded. A huge war cry went over the entire kingdom. The final war had begun. The powers would be tested and remembered today. War and Peace When the ritual was completed, King of Aksala gave the orders to march. A war horn sounded. The King had stealthily gathered his forces and those of the lords and positioned them at the borders of the kingdom. There were four men of the Royal Line including him and each man had their own troops. They each took east, west, south and north respectively. With the war horn, the biggest battle in centuries started. The Invader's army was protected with some magic. The King, with his new found powers located the source of magic. He went through the enemy lines like an arrow, piercing them and killed Invader's only witch. The Invader had been overconfident in his assumptions of the prowess of Aksala and he paid the ultimate price. As the other three members of the Royal Line covered the King, The King started fighting the Invader. The King defeated the Invader. A loud cheer went up among the army. The remaining troops of the Invader's army became scattered in the absence of their leader. They were chased down and captured by the remaining army. That day, a huge feast was ordered for the troops. The King himself spent time with the soldiers to commend them on their courage and valor. It took almost entire week to clean up the kingdom of the damage due to the war. The normal life started after one week. The King signaled for his son and relatives to return to the Royal Palace. It was quite apparent that her daughters were confused, but the Queen had no way of protecting them. The life of the women in the Royal Palace had changed dramatically after one month of the war. When the King had returned, he had organized a full festival to let the people of the kingdom know about the sacrifice of the Royal women. However, the Queen noticed the magical restraints holding the women soon became a symbol of their submissiveness. Within a month of the ritual, the men of the Royal Family became arrogant about their power and the Queen and other women were degraded to a lower status. This was done because the crotch plates of their restraints had become a permanent part for the women. This meant that they couldn't produce heirs for the Royal Line. They found themselves becoming objectified and degraded to entertainment status. The King and other men soon married other women in hopes of extending their bloodlines. Pacts and marriages were done within kingdoms for political and ambitious reasons. It became apparent to the Queen that her daughters would be unsafe in these conditions. So she gathered few faithful guards and servants and secretly they had whisked off the young daughters to the Royal Line to a safe place. There they would live as simple common woman, but safe from these atrocities. After a teary farewell they were sent off. Apart from the current restraints additions were done to their attire. Since the Queen and other women who participated in the Ritual couldn't have sex, they started becoming frustrated. The new Queen and her friends devised new ways to torture the women of the Royal Line. They decided to add a gag to the women's restraints. These were open mouthed gags and were welded in place thus making them permanent fixtures. The humiliation was increased when the previous Queen was called to King's bed chamber and forced to give oral satisfaction to the new Queen. The women who participated in the ritual were officially reduced to the status of Royal slaves. In the end, the Ritual made sure that the peace of the kingdom was returned and life returned to normal for the people. The women however found out that their life had just become worse from bad. THE END The Ritual It was my initiation night, at last I could be accepted. I was nervous, but I was ready. I had come as instructed: clothed in a the long black robe they provided, only panties underneath. It was a chilly evening and I walked quickly. I couldn't be sure of exactly what to expect; they are a secretive group and until I was initiated I was still an outsider. But they had gained my trust and were clearly eager to include me; Dana said she knew I would love it. Excitement mounted as I neared the hall, and I swallowed as my trembling hand opened the door. The greeting was warm but rushed; friendly congratulations could wait until this was over with. I was glad to see several faces I knew among the crowd, before it was time and they were covered in identical masks. And suddenly I was alone, the sole exposed face in the hall, rows of indistinguishable figures staring expectantly. It had begun. I knew the hands that grabbed me to march me up the aisle belonged to Dana and John, which made me feel safe even as they moved me a little more roughly than I expected up to the front of the hall. They presented me to the small group of senior members standing there, and stood back to observe as I was handed over. It was really happening. My heart pounded in my chest and I saw no comfort in the unmoving gaze of the masked face before me. His voice boomed in the hall, I didn't recognise it. "You have been presented before us tonight to make your commitment to this group and be initiated. It will not be easy for you, but we know that each stage of the ceremony will bring its own fulfilment to your soul, and you will come to see the purpose of our ways. You are free to leave at any time and your initiation will be terminated. But if you wish to see it through tonight, you must obey all instructions, exactly and immediately. "The first stage of the ritual tonight is the Oath. First you must be introduced to our members congregated here tonight. Turn around and face the audience." I obeyed. "Speak your name." I obeyed. "Now we must be convinced of your true nature. Remove your robe." It fell to the ground and I stood in only my pants before the masked crowd, feeling their eye on my bare skin even though I could not see them. Why was I doing this? I asked myself yet again, and yet again knowing the answer. They were right about me, they knew this was what I needed. Even as I trembled and felt ashamed, this felt so very right... "Listen carefully, new one," said the voice behind me. "Each of the Seven must be shown that you truly want to join us, and each will have a test to give you the opportunity to prove yourself. I am Number One, and as is tradition, I am satisfied with simply the recitation of the Oath. Begin when you are ready." I had, of course, familiarised myself with the Oath, but was grateful that the words were placed into my hand by Dana, who then stepped back to her place at the side and watched as I stuttered out the lines to the congregation. "I... present myself before you to demonstrate my need for your acceptance, training and discipline. I solemnly swear to obey unquestioningly, to endure in stillness, to rid myself of notions of pride and dignity, and to serve the needs of my masters. I will find fulfilment in being used for your pleasure and amusement, and I accept my position as the lowest among you." I would be the newest and therefore the lowest ranking in the group, until another member joins. Then I would take part in their training, just as I will be trained by the members above me. I knew what I had to do next. I turned back to face Number One and knelt before him, lowering my gaze as I could not bear to face the mask. "Master, please may I be accepted?" was the simple question I was to ask of each of the Seven. He spoke so all the hall could hear: "I welcome you, child." He stepped back and Number Two took his place, towering above my trembling form. Her voice was loud and had none of the gentle sympathy of One's; I was suddenly gripped with fear of her and what she might do. "Do you truly wish to join us?" "Yes, Master." "To earn my approval you must endure a beating. Do you want me to beat you?" "Y-es..." "Say it. Ask me. Clearly so that everyone can hear you." "Please beat me, Master!" The words fell out out of my mouth in a panic. "Pull down your panties and present your ass to me." I put my hands on the floor and turned around as quickly as I could, only catching the slightest glimpse of the implement in her hand before lowering my reddening face to the ground and raising up my ass for her to beat. I reached back and tugged down my underwear, and they fell down to my knees. What a sight I must be, but if the masked congregation were condemning me or laughing at me it was impossible for me to tell. I could only flick my gaze towards them for a second; the humiliation of my nakedness and lewd position, physically begging to be punished, took over and the ground was the only place I could bear to look. The first impact of the riding crop hurt more than I was expecting, and I cried out. It echoed, and I swear there was a slight gasp from the crowd. "Silence! Little whores have to learn to endure their punishments without protest. If I hear a sound from you again I will have to shut you up." Her harsh words stung as much the crop. I fearfully nodded, still facing the ground. "Raise that ass nice and high again, I've only just started." The blows that followed came in quick succession, and I bit my lip to stay quiet. I shut my eyes tight. It hurt, it hurt so much. I wanted to beg, please I'll do anything, I'll do anything, but I knew it would only lead to more pain. My fingers curled up and clenched and I gasped and wriggled and my ass felt so hot, so red. A soft sob escaped my mouth and it had no sooner done so than her hand swooped down and caught me by the neck. "I told you to be quiet," she whispered. "Hand me your panties." Shaking, I took my panties from around my legs and gave them to her obediently. "Open your mouth." She forced my head to make me look at her and my mouth opened almost automatically for her to stuff my underwear in, and I only felt gratitude. I knew that I needed to be gagged to save me from embarrassing myself further with obscene sounds. My head was pushed down to the ground and I tensed, waiting for the next onslaught. Instead, I felt her hand on my inner thigh, and she ordered me to spread my knees further apart. I heard a soft, mocking laugh and to my horror I realised the source of her amusement. Even through all this agony, my pussy was soaking wet, of course it was, I couldn't help myself. And she had a perfect view. I was powerless to hide my shameful reaction to being beaten; I continued to expose myself and patiently await the next strike. She hit me one more, but right between my legs, striking my pussy! I wasn't expecting that and my pants muffled my moan of pain. Again and again, she struck my cunt and ass and legs and back, my whole self lit up in ecstatic agony and I wholly forgot about the ritual and the hall and the crowd watching my suffering. There was only me and her and her beautiful attack, it was all I wanted and I was so thankful. The blows suddenly ceased and I remembered where I was, and opened my eyes. The concept of shame crept back into my mind and I felt so small and lost, what do I do now? Number Two cut my thoughts short, "Turn back to me. Show the congregation your ass. Let them see how red it is, and how much you liked it. That's right, ass in the air, spread legs. Good girl. Now ask me." She took my panties from my mouth and dropped them on the floor, and I tried not to sound like I was tearful and begging. "Please, M-master, please may I be accepted?" She granted me her approval and I was given no time to calm down before she was replaced by not just one robed figure, but three. Numbers Three, Four and Five had a joint test for me, and I needed to please all of them. My first test was a simple oath of commitment, my second was in enduring pain, now I was to be tested in service. Number Three explained my task: "The three of us will test you together, as Service is such an important part of your membership. You can be called on to be used by any one of us, however we wish. Being the perfect pleasure slave is your highest priority, it is what you are for. We are going to use you now, slave. Do not resist. Your body is not your own anymore." I could only stare as Three took his position in front of me, Four went behind and Five simply pleasured himself at the sight. Three roughly shoved my cock in my mouth first, then Four grabbed my hips and penetrated me from behind and filled my pussy. My mouth and pussy were used to pleasure my Masters, I was never as whole as when I was fucked, my only need was cock. I alternated between the total gratitude of being filled with cock and the overwhelming need to be filled once more. Please, thank you, please, thank you. Please never stop... My back felt warm as I realised Five was covering me in his cum, marking me as a slut. Even in all the euphoria I felt, I suddenly remembered Dana and John and the others I had got to know well recently, drinking together and chatting. They knew what I was like but they'd never seen me like this; how could I ever face them again? They were right here, watching as I was fucked and coated in cum. And my ass hurt so much, I wanted to reach back and rub it but just as I had this thought, Number Four pulled from my cunt and my ass was covered in his cum too, and it slowly dripped down my body. I kept sucking Three's cock, I wanted to please him, I wanted to serve him, I wanted him inside me. He gripped my hair and sped up his thrusting as he came closer to climax, I placed my hands on his legs as he started to cum, down my throat, thank you, please let me swallow your cum, it is what I am for... I was only permitted a little cum in my mouth before he pulled out and the rest went all over my face, down my neck and chest. He stood back and I fell forward onto my hands, and simply trembled and felt the shame anew of all those invisible eyes, seeing me wearing only cum. I reached back to rub my aching ass and covered my hands in cum and felt even more humiliated. The three figures just watched me and waited for my question. "T-thank you Masters, thank you for the cum." I looked at each of them, I was so grateful, I love to be covered in cum, I thanked each one individually. They were silent, still waiting. "Masters, please may I be accepted?" The only response was a slow nod in unison, and the three stepped back. Number Six came forward. What was I to be subjected to next, what more could they want from me? Six's mask stared back at me, giving no clues about their intentions. This voice was female, not as terrifying as Number Two's but with an edge of amusement. "On your feet, little slave. Let's have a good look at the state of you. Put your hands above your head, nice and high, and do a little twirl so everyone can see. Covered in cum, covered in red marks. You will have to get used to being like this, slave." Could I ever lose so much of my pride that I would accept being this obscene spectacle without burning with shame? She produced a bowl of water and brought my hands down, and washed them for me, gently cleaning the cum off them. Her kindness felt so wonderful and I began to relax again. Seeing this, she then threw the rest of the water on my naked body and made me squeal. She laughed, and continued. "You've been through a lot tonight, but Six and Seven are the most severe trials, and if you fail you will have to go through the whole thing again another night. You are free to try again, you see, but second tries are always harder. You don't want that, do you?" I shook my head. I must pass, I must earn their approval. I belong here, I know it, I must do anything they ask. "Good girl. Now, face the audience. Spread your legs, let everyone see your pussy, so excited. Now touch yourself." I obeyed each command immediately, until the last one. I hesitated, looking out at the sea of masked figures. My cunt longed to be touched; I could feel my inhibitions melting away, the heat of desire taking over. Obey her. I placed my fingers in between my legs and began to play. So good, so good, just as it is while I am alone. I love to touch myself and it was no less pleasurable in front of everyone. In fact, putting on this lustful show only made me wetter and I moaned involuntarily. A sudden strike from the riding crop made me jump and stop, just as I was losing myself. "You like that, don't you, slave? You want to make yourself cum, in front of everyone?" I nodded quickly, eyes downcast. "Please!" "You're going to need someone's permission I'm afraid. And as I'm quite happy to watch you squirm, I'm not going to give it to you. You're free to ask around though, maybe someone else will take pity on you and your soaking cunt. Go on, ask. Keep fucking yourself and disgracing yourself in front of us all, don't you dare stop. But you can't cum until someone gives you permission." My eyes widened in shock, and I needed another quick strike to remind me to continue my filthy play. I turned first to the rest of the Seven, and asked each one in turn, all the while touching myself and holding back, I must not orgasm, I must not... "Please, Master, please may I cum?" Six more refusals, I couldn't ask Dana and John, I just couldn't. I wanted to cum, I needed to, please, someone let me, I'll behave, I'll be so good... I was walking down to the first row of faceless figures, unsure who knew me and who didn't, and full of shame I begged one of the crowd to permit me to cum. The nearest figure to me, perhaps they will be merciful... "Please, please, Master, m-may I c-..." It was too late, the orgasm sang through my body and took over and I moaned a loud and unmistakeable moan; my disobedience was impossible to hide. The silence afterwards was crushing. What have I done? Number Six shook her head as I looked over in shame. I returned to the front of the room, almost in tears. "I'm sorry Master. I disobeyed. I came without permission." "You did. It was disgraceful," she replied, clearly enjoying the situation immensely. "You'll have to try harder next time. It will hurt more second time around. And you didn't even get to Number Seven's trial yet! Get on your pants and robes and leave. You will be summoned for your second chance." The Ritual It started after I was released from my time of slavery. But I still had the cravings, the need to feel used. I was living on my own, having been raised very well by my widowed mother but with no strong father figure, I was easy prey. I won't elaborate on that, it's been so very long now that the memories grow hazy. This time of my life lasted from age 18 until I was about thirty. I'd had many jobs, much education and many wild encounters. With women I was very dominant. But when there were dry times with them, I always seemed to wander back to the times of my youth. THEY had been older white males. It helped that thanks to my own genes, I always looked much younger than my chronological age. With men, I was VERY submissive and passive to a fault. I needed it but I made these men work for it. I developed a ritual that I always went through. First I'd spend some time at a few strip clubs watching women slither like sluts and I'd drink quite a bit. I'd stay the bar from about 10 p.m. until about 1 a.m. Then when I was really horny and pretty buzzed, I'd drive very carefully across town to an adult bookstore I knew of which had a mini theatre and was open until about 5 a.m. But first, I had to stop for the first part of the ritual. I would venture down a specific neighborhood road and turn into a specific driveway. The driveway was long and very dark and unlit. I happened to know the home at the end was unoccupied and boarded up. The driveway was hidden from view on both sides by thick vegetation. So I'd ease into the darkness and kill my lights and vanish from the world for a few moments. Stopping my truck, I'd quickly "prepare myself" for the rest of the night. I'd slip out of my belt and drop it behind me. Next I'd strip off my pants and remove my underwear and put my pants back on, now "commando." I always wore jeans, very well worn and thin. They showcased my cock when it was hard nicely. I'm pretty average, not real long, but thick and cut. Never had any complaints from men or women, not ever. Finally, I'd make sure my dark colored shirt was out and hanging loose. Then, backing from the driveway in the dark, I'd wait until I was down the street some to put on my lights. I'd arrive at the adult bookstore and go inside and directly to the counter and the attendant. Buying my $7 ticket, he'd buzz me inside two doors. This gave a moment's notice to those inside and let folks get respectable and allow them a chance to examine the "new arrival." I always felt like meat when I'd go inside and it thrilled me. My breathing would quicken and my cock would stir. I had a very specific seat I always wanted. The theatre was very small. There were maybe 25 or 30 seats. It had rows of three on one side and rows of two on the other. My favorite spot was in the very back in a corner up against the doorway alcove and a wall. It was such that to see me you really had to be either standing next to that aisle or seated next to me. I always took the corner. And I waited. Most men at that time of night were my type: Older and white. Invariably someone would leave their seat and go stand next to the door. They would stare down at me. The "dance" had begun. My part of the game is to ignore everything and watch the movie. I always liked movies where women were being force-fed cocks with lots of facials and slaps and rough treatment. I liked to fantasize it was ME. So when a man would stare at me, I'd ignore him. Sometimes, not getting any sort of affirmative signal, he'd get scared and go away. Other times, a man would ease into the seat next to me. PHASE TWO: Next, there would come a slow and seemingly innocent contact: Usually a knee against mine. I would ignore that. If he nudged more aggressively, I'd hold my ground, effectively signaling that I was available. But that was all. Next would come a hand on my knee, slowly sliding up to my now rock hard cock which always jumped at first contact through my thin pants. Then the unsnapping of my pants and a rough hand on my cock. Now it depended on what HE wanted. Sometimes a guy would just be aching to suck me. That was my "role" with my masters from before. I was the "on tap" cum machine. Up until I was in my forties, I could cum from three to four times in an hour, almost every waking hour. They liked the taste of young cum. Lots of folks do. Let me tell you, I've gotten blown by guys and girls alike and nobody gives head like a guy who knows what he's about. Sometimes I felt like my soul was getting sucked out through my cock. Maybe it was. Sometimes a guy would want a reciprocal hand job and he'd put my hand on his slippery cock sitting there in that dark adult theater. So I'd languidly jack a cock. Sometimes he'd gush all over my hand and leave. Other times, a guy would want more. Me being usually three sheets to the wind (drunk), I'm up for that. In my past there were things I never did. One was take it up the ass. That's not my style. Still not. But I am very oral. I love making people cum with my mouth and I'm pretty good. Better I think with women than men, but I have been told that I have a very hot mouth. I don't like to swallow a guy's load. I think in my whole life, I've only taken four down the hatch, all without warning. Thankfully none were up to Peter North standards in volume. THEY never made me do it. It was always the other way. That was fine, I always just loved the way they expected me to obey, to do as I was told. THEY always man handled me, but gently. No violence. As time passed, I grew more sluttish and I would have liked rougher treatment, even if it was only verbal. But they never picked up on that. In the theaters, my favorite finish was to get a guy to cum all over my face. Sometimes, I like for them to speak roughly to me, and to maybe dick-whip my face. I'd love to hear them whisper about how I was such a little slut and to take their hot load as it sprayed my upturned face. It's been a long time since any of this has happened now. White guys older than me (in the proper age range) are getting more difficult to find. I still look young, though. I'm pushing sixty but I can easily pass for mid thirties. The mini theater is long gone and with the advent of online porn, they're getting more difficult to find. Also with age, comes wisdom (sometimes) and I'm not into all the increasingly risky behavior: Everything from the possible DWI to a deadly car accident to the other, longer-term health risks. I'm not gay - turns out that having gay sex doesn't make you gay. You've got to be able to support an emotional relationship for that to be true. Not that there is anything wrong about that. If you're gay and happy, more power to ya, I always say. I knew that having a minor in psychology would have some redeeming value. I'm truly happy in my sexuality and I'm in no way homophobic. Sometimes, I miss the theaters. Maybe someday... The Ritual We express our love in such a different way. Until fairly recently I'd never really been involved in contrived or non-spontaneous sex. Whilst I was married, Mike and I had messed around with me dressing up, both of us tying the other up and some other stuff like that, but most of what we did was spur of the moment. We didn't usually think up new things, plan them and act them out in a cold-blooded manner. That just wasn't us. When we wanted to fuck we did and to hell with plans and procedures. True, when he'd persuaded me to do glamour poses for him to photograph they had to be arranged and occasionally I would dress up for him and surprise him when he came home from work. Sometimes I became a little aroused during the day and would greet Mike dressed in sexy undies. I had a special set for this. Black bra, panties, a waspie with suspenders and long, seamed stockings. The classic erotic lingerie. What was special about it was the sizes of the bra and waspie. The former was a whole cup size smaller than my 33C and the waspie was a tight 23 waist and 34 inch hips. My body really requires 25 or 26 inches for my waist and 36 for my somewhat hips. Thus, the gear made me, as Mike described it, 'deliciously overflow from my underwear.' It also made him want me and usually he'd have me there and then, before dinner, often in the hallway against a wall or on all fours. A bit like an aperitif really. The idea, however, of hoods, leather, rubber or latex gear, acting out dominatrix and sub scenes and the various other acts associated with slightly deviant practices never really appealed. Not that either of us had anything against mild BDSM. No, we were both quite adventurous and in the right circumstances we probably could have been persuaded to indulge. However, the circumstances never came about and doing such things by ourselves struck us as faintly ridiculous. I'm sure we'd have gained more fun and laughter from him in a latex thong or me brandishing a cat o' nine tails than we would have found sexual stimulation. But after the divorce, when I was a near forty-year-old on the loose, my eyes were opened, a lot. Sex of all types seemed to be everywhere and appeared to be the topic that took precedence over nearly everything else. There was, even among my age group but particularly among the young, an incredibly, to me at least, open attitude towards it. And the more I heard and read about peoples sexual inclinations the more they seemed to be slightly deviant and the more couples there were that did indulge in contrived sex. I heard of swingers' parties, role-plays, orgies, couples fantasy clubs, boudoir photography, visiting massage, S & M and all manner of activities that were thought-out and planned prior to execution. During most of my marriage I was very happy and content. Well we loved each other and this was forever, wasn't it? I always thought. So I'd hardly strayed let alone thought that much about other men or what was going on around me amongst, especially the single fraternity. I wasn't single and wasn't likely to be, so why think about them was my attitude? If they wanted to sleep around, have a variety of partners, get up to all sorts of antics and fuck one another almost as easily as giving someone a peck on the cheek, well that was up to them. Was I bit of a prude? Well yes I suppose I was. But then I could afford to be. I was married, had a husband that loved me and, unlike many of my friends, we had a very active and energetic sex-life. The need to experiment, choose men to go to bed with or know the ways of the modern woman with regard to relationships in general and sexual ones in particular just didn't cross my mind. So a year or so after the divorce came through, I had no idea how to start my new single life. I was out of practice with talking to men who wanted to date me. I had forgotten how to relate to potential bed partners. After all, since I'd taken up with Mike when I was twenty, I'd only slept with him and one other man, both of whom at the time I thought I loved. I was determined to learn though and to learn fast. I didn't want to be alone and I certainly didn't want to sit in night after night watching TV or pretending that reading books or doing crosswords made for enjoyable and fulfilling evenings. No, I wanted the taste of youth that I'd lost by going with a man ten years my senior when I was nineteen. I wanted to be out and about. I wanted to go clubbing, as they called it, for I'd never been, well not as a single girl on the pull I hadn't. I wanted to go to pubs and bars. I wanted to be chatted up, I wanted men to come after me and yes I wanted to get laid. I wanted sex. I needed it, after all there had probably not been week gone by for fifteen years or so when I hadn't had it. The idea of going weeks or even longer without it horrified me. So I went on a strict diet getting my weight down to around 135 pounds which was about right for my build. I tried various new hair dos and colour, and went blonde for a while; after all they're supposed to have more fun aren't they? I put myself about a bit. I accepted invitations to parties and functions. I rejoined my tennis club and took up golf again. I went back to work. I found the Internet and chat rooms. I had fun on there and that, probably more than anything else opened my eyes to the sexual revolution that had passed me by. I know there's total anonymity on there but to have total strangers type to me. "What colour panties you wearing?" or ask, "wanna see my cock on cam?" was certainly educational. And overall it worked. I quickly made myself a new circle of friends, well acquaintances I suppose, both in the cyberland of chat rooms and in the harsher one of reality. I developed an active social life and started dating. In fact it all probably worked too well as, for a year or so I was rushed off my feet with my social whirl. That wasn't a good thing as far as my relationship with Emilyh my daughter was concerned, so once I'd got myself established I vowed to change. Also it wasn't really a very good idea for my self-esteem. Sure having men after me did give me confidence. Having them chat me up and ask me out reassured me that Mike's philandering wasn't totally down to me. Going on dates showed me that I could relate to, and get on well with, almost, strangers, something that had worried me for I'd never been much good at that. And of course going to bed with them and having sex with a number of men demonstrated to me that probably I wasn't that bad in bed and that most men enjoyed my body. It also fed the appetite I had for sexual satisfaction, probably too much. In fact to the extent that my self-esteem did suffer. After all it's not that easy to provide moral judgements to a teenage daughter when just the night before that girl's mum was being fucked in a car in a darkened car park. It's hard to give advice on the birds and bees when there's just been too many men birds in the mummy bee's bed. Feeling good about oneself and life in general doesn't easily follow having three men on the go at one time and in one crazy week going to bed with each of them on consecutive nights. I called this 'my raining men' period and it did blow the cobwebs away. It did loosen me up and it did bring me into the 21st century of womanhood. Sure I went too far. I was, for a while, too easy. I did during that year sleep around a bit. But maybe it was necessary. Possibly I needed the excess to find and appreciate the norm. Chatting to men, and women come to that, on the net widened my sexual outlook considerably. I exchanged views on aspects of sex that I knew little about and certainly had never experienced. It made me more broad minded and acceptable of sexual practices that I had no desire to exper'ience, well not sure about no, let's say little shall we? The exposure to such things really did enable me to accept the maxim different strokes for different folks' and that made me far less judgemental. After that first mad year I did settle down. I found the equilibrium, the balance between leading a fun life, where I caught up on what I'd missed out and being a mum. Between getting the sex I needed and being overly promiscuous. It was during that year that I met and started going out with Adrian. A widowed advertising executive he had two children, both boys, who were away at boarding school. He lived in a rambling town house just off Hoxton Square in Shoreditch, East London. The area, which had been depressed for years, was making a strong comeback with everywhere being gentrified and at that time was rapidly becoming the trendiest area in all of London. We met at an ad industry conference. We dined together afterwards, got on well, went on two dates then slept together. He was good, well more OK really, in bed. The first few time we had sex there was something just a little wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what. There was a sort of edginess on his part. Sure, he took his time and made sure that I was suitably aroused by fairly lengthy foreplay. But that was mechanistic and almost as if he was making love to me by following instructions from a manual. Despite that he produced the appropriate reactions from me, multiple and satisfying orgasms. He was a well-built guy in his late-forties but, slightly embarrassingly, he was a couple of inches shorter than me. Good looking with a full head of hair Ade, as I usually called him, had very bad eyesight and had to wear thick spectacles, as his particular stigmatism prevented him wearing contacts. A few weeks later Emily was away for a weekend, so I arranged to spend it with him at his house which was just six or seven miles from my Essex flat. We had dinner on the Friday night at a Vietnamese restaurant in Kingsland Road, walked to his house, slightly tipsy holding hands and stopping to kiss every few yards in doorways and dark places. In one he slid his hand in my blouse and then in another he scooped my breasts from my bra. On the remainder of the short walk through the crowded streets of Hoxton we were heavily aroused, very excited and totally tuned into sex, especially as both of my breasts were out of my bra and the extended nipples were making large outlines in the thin top. He fucked me in the hallway of his house. He fucked me just like they had it in The Thomas Crown Affair, the second one I mean with Piers Brosnan, half way up a staircase. He didn't undress me but merely pushed my leather skirt up, tugged my panties down round my thighs and fucked me like that. And it was great. It was exactly what the circumstances and our mood demanded. A hard, fast, raw and dirty fuck with no edginess. Perhaps it was more satisfying because his instruction manual didn't cover how to fuck half way up a staircase! We drank more and then went to bed and there he didn't fuck me. No there, in his very masculine bedroom we made love. We made long, lingering, tender and pretty satisfying love. We'd taken the bottle of wine to bed with us and after we'd both climaxed, well with me it was after several climaxes, I was leaning back against his outstretched legs sipping my wine totally satisfied and fully at peace with life. "Can you reach the bottle Christina?" he asked, adding. "It's a little difficult for me, as I have such a lovely lump leaning on me." Smiling I turned towards the bedside table but saw that I wouldn't be able to reach. I rolled over so that I lay across his lap, my legs bent with his thighs pressing into my tummy. As I stretched to pick up the bottle so I felt his hands on my bottom. He stroked me murmuring. "Mmmm that's a lovely sight Christina." I didn't reply or move but laid there enjoying his touch on that part of my body that has always been very sensitive. "Very, very nice," he went on running a finger along the crease between the cheeks that he continued stroking with his other hand. "Is that nice?" "Mmmm," I sighed probably slightly wiggling it a bit as I revelled in the lovely feelings his hands were giving me. He had a lovely, light but nicely enquiring touch and I was just getting used to that when suddenly I firstly heard, "thwack," then felt a searing pain on my left cheek as clearly he smacked me. I cried out "ouch" and was just about to ask what the hell was going on, for I thought more were on their way, when I felt his hand pressing softly and gently caressing me right where the blow had landed. "I just couldn't resist it Christina," he said huskily adding. "You have the most smackable bottom." As it happened, I then had a call on my mobile so nothing more happened that night along those lines. We spent the next day together shopping in town and buying each other presents that we'd agreed we'd open that evening after we'd had the dinner that we planned to cook together. A perfect, new lover's week-end. We cooked together and then ate a great meal washed down with a crisp Chablis and then a hugely extravagantly bottle of Chateau Talbot claret that must have cost at least sixty quid. We were both feeling warm and mellow as we sat down on the large sofa in the upstairs lounge that was lit merely by the street lamps outside. We were almost immediately in each other's arms kissing and touching each other. We had by now become pretty comfortable and relaxed together so I was able, without fear of being considered too forward, able to match him touch for touch and caress for caress. So as my blouse came undone I slipped the buttons of his shirt open. As his hands found my breasts inside the white, lace, totally see through bra so mine ran across his nicely hairy chest, As his enquiring fingers edged inside my bra running across the smooth flesh of my breasts and the slightly bumpier skin of my areola so mine found and frequently pinched his nipples. His belt and zip were opened at about the same time as my skirt was pushed up my legs and his erection was bared just as the skirt was bunched around my waist. So I gazed at his penis as he looked at my pubic mound inside the white net panties. And finally my hand wrapped around his rampantly straining cock just as his fingers found the damp outline of my drenched cunt inside my panties. "Here or shall we go to bed?" he asked. Bending forward with my eyes looking up at his I brought the bulbous end of his uncircumcised cock towards my mouth as I smiled and said. "I'm a little too busy to tramp up the stairs Adrian so make love to me here." Adrian had the highest quality, thickest pile carpet I had ever seen or laid upon or, more to the point, got laid upon! Rolling around on it as his trousers and boxers and my skirt and panties came off it felt like velvet. It was so smooth and soft and just perfect to make love on. "Lay back," I whispered pushing Adrian and positioning myself kneeling across his thighs. Pressing against his chest as I pushed his face from my tits I smiled. "Just lay there and let me fuck you." It's such a lovely feeling, such a wantonly decadent sensation as a woman impales herself on her lover's erection and sinks down on it until the lips of her pussy are pressed against his pubic mound. And that's just how it was as I started to fuck Adrian. My breasts jiggling around all over the place, my hair cascading over my face, I pumped myself up and down on him, We both grasped my bouncing tits at the same time jointly enjoying the sensation of squeezing and pinching the soft flesh. I was soon getting so aroused that I would either have to stop or I'd cum. "God yes, oh shit Adrian I'm cumming, I'm cumming," I moaned as the rivers of sensations rushed through my body. "Yes darling, yes," he groaned back as we both held our bodies still with his cock as far in me as it could possibly be. "Cum for me, cum on my big, hard cock." "Oooooooooooooooooooooooo, arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh," I grunted as I did cum, hard and long. It was only as I finished that I realised that he had not ejaculated. Collapsing onto him his erection still buried inside me, I wrapped my arms around his neck kissing him deeply and whispering. "Thank you, thank, you, thank you darling, that was amazing." As I lay there I felt his hands on my bottom stroking it. He then fumbled around my legs pulling them so they were stretched out behind me, slightly open and resting full length with his between them. "Put your legs on top of mine Chris," he whispered between planting kisses all over my face and mouth. I raised them and laid them on top of his. In that position I felt so wonderfully full. Little tremors from my orgasm were running through me causing me to sigh and moan with the pleasure from what I'd received from the climax, was getting now from being kissed and having Adrian fully erect inside me and from the anticipation of what was surely to come soon. I hadn't expected what happened next though. Adrian suddenly started lightly smacking each of my bum cheeks in turn. Not very hard but enough to make quite obvious smacking sounds and to give me sharp, short shocks of slight pain with each smack. I didn't know what to do or what to say so I simply laid there as he lightly spanked my bottom. I could feel it starting to sting and becoming warm. "Is that Ok Chris?" He asked as I grunted what he must have thought was an ok for he continued smacking and then caressing each cheek as once again my legs fell open dropping to either side of his closed legs. "Is it good, is it ok?" He asked again as now his fingers stroked along the opened crease of my bum and down further to rub along my soaked lips. It really was an amazing combination of sensations. He and I were kissing. We were mixing deep, lips wide open, tongue searching, mouths squirming kisses with little light pecks and licks all over the others face and hair. He was inside me. He was buried deep in my pussy, filling me and sending explosions of feelings through me as either he or I moved. He was spanking my bottom. Slapping and smacking the softness of my spreaded cheeks in turn. As much as anything else it was the sound his hand made on my, now, smarting skin that was, in some ways, the most immediate sensation that hit me. Each smack seemed so loud, almost like the crack of a whip. Each little explosion of sound was then followed by stinging, smarting blast of pain that as blow after blow came down became more of a deep warmth than a hurt or an ache. Whether it was the smacking together with everything else, or whether it would have happened in any case I don't know, but suddenly we were both climaxing. And climaxing very heavily indeed. I was moaning and grunting, covering his face in little kisses and stroking his hair and head with my hands as I felt him ejaculating into me. "Oh God Chris, oh yes. Oh fucking hell. Fucking hell," he moaned as he thrust his hips upwards lifting his bottom and me from the floor whilst he shot his stuff into me for what seemed an age, but probably was no more than ten to fifteen seconds I suppose. We lay there on the floor for quite some time kissing and stroking, whispering niceties to each other and simply enjoying the mellowness of that wonderful post orgasm time. I could feel Adrian getting softer and then as I moved a little he slipped out. I rolled off him and we lay side by side until I got up and used the bathroom. I had a quick shower and slipped into one of his bathrobes hanging on the back of the door. We sat around drinking coffee, chatting and listening to music for quite some time. Nothing was said about what had happened and later we went to bed and made sweet and tender love. I couldn't, though, get the smacking of my bottom out of my mind. It had hit a chord inside me. It had stimulated something that must have been lying dormant in the deeper recesses of my psyche for ages. Every time I thought of his hand hitting my bottom or me lying there in expectancy my heart started to beat faster. I didn't know why. I'd never yearned for it, although, as many women so I've read and heard about do, there was a tiny part of me that was intrigued by the idea. The Ritual As it happens Adrian was away on business in America for the next week or so, and as we often did when he was away, we kept in touch by yahoo messenger. That way as I worked at home or he worked in his LA office we could leave the PCs on and have periodic written conversations. It also meant that I could chat to some of the people I'd made friends with on there and, more pointedly, it meant that I could cruise around some sites to learn more about my new found interest. I was absolutely amazed at just how much information there was about corporal punishment in general and spanking in particular. It seemed almost as though everyone was interested in it and the act itself was as good as commonplace. I read about the bond that was formed and was necessary between the master and pupil; the trust there had to be between the two of them; the fusion of dominating and submitting; the combining of pain and pleasure and of firmness and gentleness and of the ritualistic manner in which most couples went about it. Through the very brief exposure with Adrian I was able to associate with some, but not all that I read. What I was able to do in spades, though, was recognise my interest in and, likely desire for more, spanking. Often, the conversations on messenger with Adrian became quite colourful and occasionally we would give into the feelings of arousal and we would mutually masturbate. Sometimes in writing and sometimes on the phone we'd tell each other what we were doing, gradually getting to the point where we wanted to cum. It became a point of pride for us to try to arrange simultaneous climaxes. Something that seems easier to do when together than when on the end of a PC! So it wasn't a surprise to me when a window popped open mid-afternoon a few days later as I was working at home. It wasn't even that much of a surprise when I read. "What are you wearing?" That had become an in joke of ours. I had mentioned to him once that I had tried chat rooms in the past and one of the questions I was frequently asked was just that. I'd also told him that it was usually then followed by enquiries about my underwear. Smiling I typed back. "Earrings and a big smile." I laughed when his reply came back. "You're overdressed wipe the smile from your face." We exchanged pleasantries for a while about how we were, the weather, his trip, my work and our plans for the day. "Looking forward to Thursday?" he asked referring to his expected arrival home. "Yes of course." "Can you stay the night?" "Probably, but will you be up to it after the flight and the jet lag?" "I'll be up for anything to get the chance of all night with you?" "You won't be able to stay the pace; I'll come round for the evening and then go home. Ok?" "If you don't agree to stay the night I'll have to give you a spanking." "Oh yeah, promises, promises," I typed just as the phone rang. "BRB Phone.," I wrote to him. Talking to a headhunter I watched Adrian's words coming up on my screen. "No Chris, not just promises now is it 'cos you've had some haven't you? You've had some smacking, some spanking haven't you?" Tucking the phone into the crook of my neck I tapped. "Yes," as I felt a little shiver running through me reading what he'd just put. "And you liked it didn't you?" There was a pause before he typed again. "You did didn't you Christina? You enjoyed me spanking your bum didn't you?" I wasn't at all sure just where this was leading but I could feel my arousal building up and that prompted me to again tap in y e s adding quickly. "I'm still on the phone Adrian." "That's ok just read and type yes or no as appropriate." "Ok" "You did like it didn't you?" "Yes." "It made you cum didn't it?" "Yes." "It made you cum very hard didn't it?" "Yes." Listening to the headhunter droning on about the big job he was negotiating for me I was becoming rather befuddled. Listening and talking business but reading and typing sex is confusing, difficult and quite exciting. The danger is that sometimes you can say what you mean to type and I was scared I might find myself asking my agent to spank my bum! "And you want me to do it again don't you?" I didn't type anything for a while. "Don't you Christina? You want me to spank you again don't you? Spank your bottom, smack your bum until I make you cum. That's what you want isn't it?" I found my heart was pounding and my breath was coming in pants and spurts. I felt warm and my body was tingling all over. My breasts felt so full and heavy as the words on the screen smashed into my mind. "Don't you, don't you, don't you?" I read. "I'll call you back" I gasped to the headhunter as those amazingly arousing words exploded onto my screen. "You want your bum smacked until it tingles, until it goes all red and is so hot you could cook toast on it. That's what you want isn't it?" "Yes." "And then you want me to soothe it, kiss it, love it and make it better don't you?" "Yes." "And then as I love it and kiss it you'll want me to fuck you until you cum and cum and cum won't you Christina?" "Yes Adrian yes." My mobile started to ring. "So what exactly are you really wearing?" Adrian asked down the phone. The tightness of his voice told me that the messenger exchange had excited him as it had me. "Tracky trousers and a tee," I replied, adding. "Hi how are you?" "Hi. Very well but fucking horny now. And under them?" I'd half expected him to ring so I was telling the truth when I replied. "Not much." "What then?" "Just a thong?" "No bra?" "No." "You're a dirty girl aren't you Chrissy?" "Am I?" "Yes. Dirty and naughty and you know what dirty naughty girls have to have, don't you?" "I think I can guess," I said quite surprised but nevertheless excited at the way the chat was going. "And what do you guess Chrissy?" "Punishment I suppose," I was amazed to hear myself saying. "Yes but what sort of punishment?" I found it hard to say what was obvious and my hesitation caused him to say. "How would you like me to punish you Christina?" It just came blurting out then. "Spank me I suppose Adrian." "Yes of course but where shall I spank you?" It actually took a lot for me to say what I felt but after a moment or two I said very quietly. "On my bottom. I want you to spank my bottom." "Jesus Chrissy this is fucking amazing I'm as hard as a rock here. Are u wet?" I couldn't help laughing as I returned to the formula of when I was on the phone. "Yes." "Very?" "Yes." "Are your nipples hard?" "Yes," I replied squeezing one through the tee shirt. "They're very hard." "You're feeling them aren't you?" "Yes." I pulled the tee out from the elasticated waist band of the silver coloured track trousers. "Are you stroking your tits yet?" "Just about to," I said sliding my hand inside the tee and cupping one of my breasts. I squeezed and stroked that. "Mmmmmmmmm." "You want to cum Chris?" "Soon yes, do you?" "Of course." "Talk more to me," I asked squeezing and caressing my breasts in turn. It really did feel marvellous and I knew that when I wanted to I'd be able to cum. "When I get home on Thursday I want to spank you. May I? Would you like that?" As Adrian changed the subject back to that intriguing and now very exciting topic I was pinching and pulling both of my nipples at the same time for they were aching so much from the sexual tension that was building up in me. He didn't wait for a reply before asking. "What are you doing Chris? Are you undressed yet?" "I'm pinching my nipples," I whispered in the tiny phone cradled in my neck. "Hold on I'm going to put the phone on loudspeaker." "I guess you do need both hands," he said clearly smiling. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Lying on my bed stark bollock naked with a raging hard on that I'm stroking. Can you visualise that Chrissy?" "Mmmm yes I can, it's a nice vision as well" "Are you undressed?" He asked again. "No, no I'm not?" "Will you for me?" "Yes." I spoke into the small microphone of the mobile lying close to me on my desk explaining exactly what I was doing. "I've pulled the tee over my head and my hair's all messed up but falling down around my shoulders." "What do your tits feel like Chris?" "Bigger, heavy, full, aching," I croaked again cupping and squeezing them, "They'll feel amazing on Thursday when I spank you. You won't believe what it's going to be like." "Why what's going to happen?" "Well first you have to promise to do exactly what I tell you. OK?" "Yes, yes I will." "OK well you have to understand Christina that spanking is more than just the actual smacking." "How do you mean?" I asked my hands roaming all over my breasts sending wonderfully delicious tingles through my entire body. "Is it nice?" He asked out of the blue? "What?" "Making love to your soft tits? I can hear it in your voice." "Mmmmm it's wonderful." "Then take your trackies off for me. Stand up, look in the mirror, take them off and tell me as you do it." "Mmmm my nipples are so hard, my breasts feel as if they're about to explode," I said into the phone as I looked in the long mirror, my hands sliding into the waist of the trousers. "Some of my hair has tumbled down onto my boobs and I'm pushing it off," I went on." "Take them off Chrissy, get your trousers off." "Yes Adrian," I breathed sliding them down. "What colour's the thong?" "Pastel blue and lacy." "Oh God Chrissy I bet you look fantastic, is the thong soaked?" I could see the darkness of the stain of my juices on the gusset. "Yes very." "God you'll be soaked when I spank you on Thursday. I'll have a special pair of panties for you to wear. I'm going to buy them on Sunset Boulevard later today." "Special? How will they be special?" I asked hoping against hope that they would not be tacky crutchless ones. "That's all part of what I mean about it being more than just the smacking. It's how you dress, how I dress, how we go about it and everything. It's almost a ritual, a ceremony. The spanking is just part of it. An important part but not all of it." "I see," I replied not really quite understanding. "So what about the panties?" "You'll see on Thursday. I'll have all the clothes you'll need to change into." "OK." "Oh Chris just thinking of how great it's going to be is making me rub harder and faster. How about you? Are you touching your pussy yet?" "Yes Adrian I am now." "Is it wonderful?" "Yes" "Make yourself cum Chris. I'm very near are you?" "Yes, yes," I sighed my finger rubbing faster and faster right alongside my clitoris, the place that I find the most sexually sensitive. "Make me cum, Ade, make me cum, please, please make me cum," I groaned into the phone as I gripped my hand between my thighs. "I'm cumming Chris, I'm cumming," he grunted out of the phone. "Cum with me darling, cum with me." I did. Easily, willingly and so wonderfully sordidly. Lying back in my big, black, leather chair, naked apart from the pale blue lacy thong that was pushed half way down my thighs I fucked myself. I fucked myself vigorously, eagerly and satisfyingly telling my telephone lover exactly what I was doing as I heard his words of filth thundering out of the loudspeaker on my mobile. We spoke a couple more times before the Wednesday evening when he was catching his flight. We didn't though get into a particularly sexy chat and certainly not one that led to mutual masturbation. With the time difference that was only practical around seven or eight am or eleven or twelve at night California time, which is three or four in the afternoon or seven or eight in the morning London time. Often they were inconvenient times for me so we just had to miss out and save it for when he got back. We did, though, chat briefly both on the phone and messenger about the forthcoming Thursday afternoon and evening with him explaining that he'd completed the shopping for my 'uniform' but wouldn't tell me what it was. It was agreed that he'd ring me from the airport and then when he got home. I'd then get a cab over and then the 'proceedings would begin,' he said with a deep chuckle. Over the next couple of days I thought quite a lot about what might happen. I was intrigued by some of the things he'd said. "It's like a ritual, a ceremony." "The trappings are as important as the main event." "Everything combines to provide a really amazing mutual orgasm." "The feelings you'll get from the combination of the smacking and my caresses will be like nothing you've ever experienced." I wasn't, though, that easily able to understand what it was that so interested me about it. Was it the submitting myself to someone, them controlling and directing me? Was that what appealed? Being directed and, in a way, looked after? No not looked after really for there was the chastising, the punishment, the correcting and the disciplining. Was it, I wondered, the exhibitionism? The flaunting my bottom, one of my better features I've always thought, to a man? Was it that or was it that some pain appealed to me? Or was something deeper and darker? Was it that for some primal reason I neede to be humiliated, abused and demeaned? I just couldn't get my head round it. All I knew for sure was that every single time I thought about it, and I thought about it almost endlessly, I got excited. I could hardly wait for Thursday I'd never really had pain given to me as part of a sexual act. Well of course there had been the odd bite, or suck that was a little too hard and sometimes with Mike he'd apply too much pressure to squeezing my breasts or pinching my nipples, but nothing severe and certainly nothing that had been planned by both of us. And in some ways it was the fact that we had planned it together and that had created the expectancy and anticipation about the unknown that was the most intriguing aspect as I waited the few days from that phone call. I was also looking forward to being hurt, being smacked or spanked, I wasn't quite sure which was the more evocative word. The one that made my pulse race more as it came into my mind. Which was it spanked or smacked, that gave me the stronger jolt when I thought to myself? "He's going to spank me." "He's going to smack my naked bottom." And in those few days between formally agreeing to it and now getting ready for it I'd said such things to myself many times. Since sitting in front of my PC as good as naked, masturbating myself and admitting to Adrian that I enjoyed the smacking he'd done, I'd thought of little else. From the moment I'd said to him, 'on my bottom, I want you to spank my bare bottom,' it had become in my mind a totally accepted fact that he'd do just that. It didn't really now seem to be that outrageous a proposition more an inevitability, I suppose. "There are a couple of things you need to do before you arrive at my house." Adrian had said over his mobile in the car on the way from the airport. "Ok, what's that?" I'd asked. I could hardly hear his reply for he was whispering, presumably to avoid the driver hearing him as he said. "Put your hair into pigtails or a pony tail for me and wear little make up." "What? Er, um why?" "You need to look and feel as young as possible." I didn't really understand why but I went along with his requests. On the cab ride to his house, though, I did wear a hat so I could hide the pigtails that otherwise would have hung down my back well past my shoulders. I hadn't worn my hair like this for such a long time and it was actually quite good fun plaiting it. I'd showered and had washed and dried my hair. I was sitting, dressed just in my panties, in front of my dressing table mirror carefully weaving my hair into the schoolgirl type plaits. When both were finished and I'd put tight rubber bands around the ends I glanced in the mirror. It would be rather illusory of me to think that the hair style had taken years off me, I just wish it had. But somehow the young girl look of the plaits with the clearly womanly look of my bare breasts gave me quite a sexual jolt. I began to see what Adrian meant about the whole thing! "Let yourself in," he said when I called him from the cab. "Go to that small back bedroom on the first floor and you'll find what you have to wear there. It's all lying on the bed or hanging up next to it. There's everything you need so don't wear anything you've got on now. Is that clear Chris?" "Yes Adrian," I replied quietly for the same reasons he'd whispered from his car earlier on his way from the airport. "Did you manage the pigtails and remember no make up?" "Yes, yes I did," I mumbled quietly feeling very embarrassed even though there was no way the cabbie could have heard anything. "Fantastic. So when you're dressed, and ready and do take your time come to the back room in the basement where I'll be waiting for you. Now that the time was as good as here for the cab was pulling into Hoxton Square, I began to feel very nervous. Nervous about perhaps being hurt and having to take the pain that was clearly an essential aspect of corporal punishment. Nervous about the contrived, almost cold-hearted way we'd arranged this and whether that would reduce the pleasure. After all I'd always had my best sex when events happened spontaneously. I was nervous about my reactions and whether I would get the kicks I expected and Adrian had promised. Maybe most nervous, though, at the slightly deviant nature of this particular aspect of sex. I was intentionally moving away from mainstream sex and was welcoming Adrian in pushing out my boundaries. I was going further than I had been before. That made me nervous for did it mean that if I didn't like what I found I might not be able to revert to 'normal' sex? I thought that I would probably be ok for I had handled my forays into girl/girl sex quite well and despite now having quite a few experiences with a number of women I hadn't 'become a lesbian' or a penis hater. Hanging up beside the bed on a coat hanger was a blouse and a skirt. It was a white cotton blouse with a collar and buttons right up the front. A short, pleated skirt that was patterned a little like a kilt with blue and green the predominant colours. As I picked it up I could feel that the plaid wasn't as heavy as the real tartan, in fact it was quite lightweight. Holding it against me it came no further than half way down my thighs. There was a pair of white, lacy topped hold-ups and a pair of silver strappy, mid height heeled shoes. The only other piece of clothing was a pair of panties. There was no bra. The panties were full and high-waisted. So from that perspective they were modern. I picked them up and held my hand inside them. Being made of a pink, looseweave net, I suppose it was, they were as good as completely see through. I was getting into it. I was understanding more and more what Ade had said about CP being a ritual. Dressing quickly I felt shivers of expectancy going through me as I was transformed. Transformed from an approaching middle age, conventional, divorced woman of near forty to a young girl looking rebel who was about to have her arse smacked and then Lord knows what done to it. I hadn't seen the mirror until I was dressed for he'd hung the coat hanger holding the blouse and skirt over it. I'm sure that it was intentional by him that I wouldn't see it until then. And I was also sure it was equally as intentional that I should then look at myself in the nearly full-length mirror. It was all part of the ritual, an essential aspect of the ceremony, I realised with excitement. My heart pounded when I saw myself in the mirror. I knew that in some ways I would look ridiculous. I am, I was very aware, simply too old to carry off the look Adrian was seeking other than in the special circumstances he was creating. But in those circumstances my appearance excited me. The Ritual The cotton blouse was not of a very high quality. The material was thin and looked and felt as though it was old, well worn and had been washed too often. With all the buttons done up it did though fit me well. It was trim across my back and whilst it showed the outline of my boobs it didn't cling to them overly tightly. However, when I moved the jiggle of each orb under the material was very obvious indeed. As, of course, were the dark shadows of my nipples with the strong protuberances in the centre trying hard and largely succeeding I saw in the mirror to make mountains out of molehills. Standing up straight the hem of the skirt did, at least, cover my stocking tops. Just. But when I bent or leaned forward past about forty five degrees it didn't. No at that degree of tilt I really did flash them. A few more degrees and the patch of skin between them and my panties was also revealed. And when I bent so my waist was at ninety degrees as I imagined I'd be when Adrian spanked me the skirt rode up so that most of the pink, net panties could be seen. If his intention with the clothes and the mirror was to stimulate, excite and arouse me and make me even more amenable to the forthcoming spanking then he most definitely succeeded. My hands were shaking, my knees were probably knocking and I know my breasts were wobbling and jiggling all over the place as I walked down the stairs to the formidable sounding basement. I opened the door and was part relieved and part frightened to see that the room was very dimly lit. "Come in Christina," I heard Adrian say. Trying hard to accustom my eyes to the low light, I walked into the fairly large room. I'd only been in it once before when Adrian had given me the guided tour of his large rambling house that, due to the recent property inflation, was probably worth well in excess of a two million pounds. I couldn't see him but when he spoke again I realised he was standing behind the door. "Go to the centre of the room Christina and stand there," he said. I did as he asked noting that the room was windowless, which wasn't surprising considering it was a basement. It was about twenty feet square with a large, low, modern bed at one end off to my right and a table at the other end to my left. In the middle of the room where I'd been told to stand there was a single, straight backed dining chair. There was a door alongside the bed. Glancing around I could see that the bed had black, silk or satin sheets with the top one turned back as if inviting someone to get in. Looking the other way I saw that the table had some items on it that, at first, I couldn't make out. As my eyes became acclimatised to the dark I began to see what they were. There were several bottles that looked as if they contained oils and others that appeared to hold lotions. There was a pile of towels or flannels and a large ceramic bowl that looked as though it held water. Looking closer, I saw two vibrators, one black the other gold. And then I saw the cane. The cane that could only have one purpose. The cane that could only have one intent. The cane that was there to hurt and then pleasure me. The cane that I had never thought about before. The cane that there and then, I think, I fell in love with. It seemed so right. It seemed to be perfect. It was what I had been searching for. What I needed, what I wanted, what I so utterly desired. And to think I'd never really even thought about it before. Not until I saw the two feet of bamboo with a hooked end hanging from the table. Not until that moment did I realise the dormant need that had been lying there asleep in me. Not until the cane that Adrian had placed so cleverly was staring at me did I realise that it was my ultimate. My total desire. My one wish and need. I knew then looking at that cane that my life had from that moment intrinsically changed. That not Adrian or the other men that wanted to, and indeed had, fucked me, were my lovers. No that cane I felt would have a bearing on the rest of my life. "Stand still for me Christina. Just let me look at you," the still unseen Adrian said to me. Hands clasped in front of me I did as he asked. Not speaking, standing perfectly still, dressed in the, on one hand, somewhat ludicrous get up yet, on the other, a provocatively sexual, outfit I waited. He took his time saying nothing and as far as I could tell not moving. It was a little unnerving to stand there simply being stared at by the man that was going to spank and smack me. I wondered what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about as he looked at me? Looked at me clad in the clothes that combined the innocence of a young girl with experience of a woman. The pigtails of youth with the unfettered breasts of maturity. The blouse and skirt of the playground with the stockings and panties of the bedroom. His inspection seemed to go on for ages and more and more now, I realised what he meant by his comments about the ritual. "Well done Christina, you look perfect." I heard him say, feeling rather than seeing, him move silently across the room so he was next to me. I had been a little concerned as to what his uniform would be. What the ceremonial garb was for a spanker? I'd half thought he might blow it all for me by wearing something totally outrageous, like a mask, or cape or, heaven forbid, a leather thong. I'm pretty sure that had he worn any of those or anything too contrived, say a headmaster's gown and mortarboard, I'd have laughed and, despite the heightened state of arousal that the proceedings had so far caused for me, I'd be unable to continue. Although sexual acts can be fun I don't think they work when they become ridiculous. So the long, dark coloured, silk dressing gown that Adrian was wearing was perfect. It had plunging lapels, so that a wide and deep expanse of his fairly hairy chest could be seen, with a tie round his waist. There were no buttons so a slight tug on that and it would open and his, I assumed, total nudity would be shown to me. I smiled and murmured. "You don't look so bad yourself Adrian." He didn't reply but slowly walked round me looking at me from all angles. His appearance and his gaze on me rekindled my arousal and as I stood there I could feel my nipples hardening. That's something that often I don't realise has happened until perhaps a man's staring will raise my suspicions sufficiently for me to glance down and see the two organ stop like lumps poking out from my swimsuit or whatever it is I'm wearing. This time, though, I was acutely aware that the thin, nearly see through, cotton blouse was struggling unsuccessfully to hide the eruption going on in my chest. I glanced down and the bumps were both larger and more obvious than I'd imagined and looking up I saw that Adrian was also staring at them. "Christina's having some naughty thoughts isn't she?" He asked. "Er yes, yes she is." I replied. "And young girls like Christina shouldn't have such thoughts should she?" "No, no Adrian they shouldn't," I heard myself replying as I slipped into the role of being a young girl. I hadn't for one moment thought that we'd get into a role-play and that was just as well for that was also something that I would have thought was just a little bit too silly. But it seemed to come so naturally and far from being ridiculous, adopting such a role seemed natural and was, I have to admit, exciting. "No Christina," he went on, his gaze roaming unrestrained all over my body sending even more tingles of desire through me. "Young girls shouldn't have naughty thoughts should they?" "No Adrian they shouldn't." "Because when they have naughty thoughts things happen to them don't they?" "Yes, yes they do," I replied seeing quite clearly the silk robe moving as his erection grew. "Things that are happening to you now aren't they?" "Yes." "And what is happening to you Christina? What is happening to your young girl's body?" I didn't reply for a moment not sure what he wanted me to say. "You can tell me Christina, you can tell me anything," he went on standing so close I could smell the Dior aftershave he always wore. Glancing down I could clearly see the outline of his hard cock under the thin material and it took a superhuman effort on my part to resist reaching out and grabbing it. I wanted to so badly but thought it would probably mess up the ceremony! "My nipples are getting hard," I said in a whisper now totally into the role-play. "Are you wet as well Christina?" he asked. "Yes Adrian, yes I think I am," I responded not really knowing whether I was or not. "And that's also very naughty isn't it?" "Yes, yes it is." "And when young girls are naughty they have to be punished. They have to be chastised and taught to be good, don't they Christina?" "Yes Adrian they do." "And you've been very naughty with your thoughts and your breasts and your pussy haven't you?" "I have." "That means Christina that you have to be punished. How should I punish you do you think?" "I don't know, I've never been punished like this before." "Then you should think deeper little girl and tell Adrian what you think he should do to help you and punish you at the same time." I looked into his eyes, then meaningfully down to his crotch and then back into his eyes which were very alive and gleaming. "I think you should spank me," I whispered to him. "Where Christina, where should I spank you?" "On my bottom, you should spank me on my bottom." His voice thick with arousal he said. "Yes, yes Christina I will spank your bottom. Go and stand behind that chair. I did as he said. "Hold the back of it with both hands." I did. "Move backwards a little." I shuffled back a foot or so. "Now Christina you have to bend forward." I did. "Further Christina, further." I leaned further forward just as I had in front of the mirror upstairs. To and then past forty five degrees. "Further Christina further." I knew that from where he was standing behind me he'd now be able to see my stocking tops. As I obeyed his latest order and bent forward until my upper body was almost at ninety degrees to my lower body and legs, I knew that he'd be seeing the patch of skin above the stockings. "Rest your head on your hands on the back of the chair Christina." As I did that I knew the short, kilt-like skirt would ride further up my legs. He'd now be able to see all of my straightened, slightly parted legs, the seamed, white lacy topped stockings, the skin above them and, probably the lower part of my bottom clad in the pink, net panties that probably now were soaked. Again he made me wait. Again he said nothing. Again he walked round me inspecting my body from all angles. And again my body and mind were consumed by sexual sensations and thoughts. As he walked past my face I could see the outline of his erection, which really was like the proverbial flagpole under the silk dressing gown. As he moved so the edges of the robe would open and I'd see expanses of his bare legs. As he stood before me I saw that the waist of the robe had loosened a little under the tie and the lapels were wider apart showing more of his chest. The waiting, the anticipation, Adrian staring at my legs and bottom and me looking at him combined marvellously to arouse me to a level I'd don't think I'd been at before, without at least being touched. But still Adrian hadn't touched me. And that I guessed was also part of the ritual. He knew what I wanted and knew that making me wait would make me want it even more. And he was absolutely correct. Naturally, since we'd agreed to do this a few days ago, I'd had some doubts and concerns. Getting ready and travelling here I hadn't been totally sure about it. And when changing into the young girl's clothes and taking on that role in this dimly lit basement room there was, inevitably I think, some trepidation. After all it was a very big step. But everything he'd done so far, all the deeds and the words gave me more and more assurance that what I had agreed to was right for me. I was starting to appreciate all the trappings. The slow build up. The stripping away, albeit only temporarily, of my own personality, even my age. The staring and the lack of fervid activity. The way the cane hung from the table. The gradual exposure of the epicentre of what this was all about, my bottom, and the way he so evidently displayed his appreciation to me. They were all details. Small parts of the whole thing. Small maybe but each in their way essential to the performance we were enacting. And then another action that was small in some ways but gargantuan in others took place. Adrian stood behind and just to one side of me. He stood very close, almost touching my hip. Almost but not quite. I couldn't see what he was doing but then I felt the lightest of pressure on the short skirt. The gentlest of touches that was almost imperceptible. But without doubt I knew that he was touching the skirt. And then I felt it being lifted. Felt it by the weight being lifted from my bottom and by the very slight touch of the cool air on the backs of my thighs. I'm not at all sure that I have the composing and describing skills to put into words what I felt as I realised for sure he was lifting my skirt up and away from my bum. As he lifted it then pulled it over the curves of my bottom. As he rolled it up so it was bunched round my waist. As he exposed my bottom to his gaze. My bottom that was covered in just the tight, diaphanous material. The pink, see through net panties. The gossamer like knickers that I knew hid nothing of me at all. I knew that he had seen it before, that he had seen my bare bottom and my pussy in close up and that, of course, he had licked and kissed it, but now it felt as he was looking at them for the first time. I could feel the thudding of my heart, the racing of my pulses and the panting of my breathing as I knew his gaze would be taking in every detail. The waistband of the panties that ran from hip to hip. The thin skirt bunched above that. The stretched material showing the deep crevice between my slightly opened cheeks. And of course the plumpness of my blood engorged lips that would be glistening with my female secretions. All of my most private and personal places were under his scrutiny. The merest touch, a slight more excitement, a gesture or a light caress would have been enough to have made me cum, so emotionally aroused was I playing my full part in the ceremony. But of course he knew exactly what he was doing. After all he'd written the script. So he didn't touch or caress me but once more made me wait as he stared. It really is the most excruciatingly pleasurable, but at the same time, enormously frustrating thing. To be wanting something to happen and to know that it's going to, but for it to be continually delayed. It was so atmosphere building, so mood creating and so integral to everything else that I realised it was the perfect way to prepare me. I jumped with surprise when he spoke. It seemed to have been ages since either of us had said anything. But then we'd both got so many other things on our minds that there wasn't room for talking as well. So the words would have been a surprise in any case. They'd have given me a jolt whatever they were. But when I heard him calmly and slowly though a little hoarsely say. "I'm going to pull your panties down Christina," I nearly fainted with the surge of sexual excitement that gave me. "Oh my God," I gasped. "Yes Adrian, yes." "Yes Adrian what?" He asked his fingers sliding just inside the elastic of the waist band. "Take my panties down, please Adrian take them down," I heard myself pleading, even though I could hardly believe what I was saying. "Yes Christina your panties have to come down so I can spank your bare bottom, don't they?" "Yes, oh yes," I groaned as I felt him slowly rolling them down. Rolling them down the flat part of the back of my waist, over the bulbousness of my hips, and onto and then over the roundness of the cheeks of my bottom. They were half way down my cheeks meaning that half the crease between them would now be bared meaning that the entrance to my anus would also be bare. I was shivering with expectancy, sexual desire and the anticipation of my first spanking. "You have a glorious arse Christina," he said as he ran his fingertips over it. "Just think how beautiful it will be when I've spanked it and it's all warm and stinging and, of course, red. Can you imagine it Christina?" "Yes Adrian I can." He stroked and softly caressed all over each cheek running his fingers between them, hovering by and then pressing fairly firmly right on my bum hole. That made me grunt and I squirmed a little fearing he was going to slip his finger inside me. I didn't want that, it would just be too much and would, without doubt, make me cum. He tugged them a little more so that the waist band was now beneath the bottom of each cheek a little way down my thighs. I could feel the gusset sticking to me and knew that the wetness would cause that. I also knew that now everything I had was exposed to his wonderfully, lustful gaze. I visualised the view he had of me. My opened legs in the white, lacy-topped, seamed stockings. My breasts were hanging down, their weight pressing the meaty flesh against the thin, worn cotton. The plaid skirt bunched around my waist and my body bent at ninety degrees at the waist. My bum, my cheeks, my anal entry and my wet lips were all there for him to see. "It's time Christina," he said slowly and quietly sending a chill through me. I was scared yet so excited as he went on. "Stand up, but make sure your panties stay exactly where they are." I did as he asked not understanding why he wanted the panties to be half way down my thighs, as opposed to off my legs completely. He walked round the chair and sat on it. Signalling to me to stand next to him he said very thickly. "Lie across my knees Christina, I need you across my lap." I looked from his face to the bulge in his dressing gown that was now almost open and then to his lap. I had thought he would have started spanking me when I was standing up bent over but then I saw that being put across his knee was all part of the process, the ritual and the ceremony. Almost kneeling and resting my hand on his silk covered leg to help me balance I lowered myself down across his lap. His knees pressed into my waist just beneath my breasts, although the side of the uppermost leg, his left, was pressing into the bottoms of them. I reached one of my arms out before me and downwards and managed to grip the leg of the chair just as once more he went through the slow motion movement of raising my skirt up to bare my bottom. We were so near now. I knew it and he did as well. I could feel the tension in both our bodies as he again stroked my buttocks sending shudders of pleasure and excitement through me. My bottom has always been fairly sensitive but I'd never realised just how much until now. There was no warning. He gave no hint. There was no sign that we had begun. There was no indication that my punishment was underway. He didn't tell me that he was going to smack me. He did nothing to warn me that he was starting to spank me. I didn't hear anything and of course I couldn't see or feel anything. Again it was the sound that made the most immediate impact on me. Thwack, I heard, before I felt anything. Smack rang in my ear before any feelings. He hit me twice in quick succession once on each cheek. I was still hearing the sounds of the two smacks when he stopped and gently ran his fingertips over where the blows had landed. As the stinging started, so he rubbed each cheek a little harder. As he did that, so the relatively modest pain coincided with the rather nice sensations his hands were producing on my bottom. I was just getting used to his caresses when again, with no warning, I heard the thwack and felt the pain. It was a little more acute this time. There was also more smacks, five, six, seven, I counted. And I felt that they were harder, firmer and quicker. The Ritual As the full moon rises into the partial clouded sky, its brilliant silver glow shines down and beams it light through the stained glass window on the wall above the altar where you lay. As you look up, you notice that the light beaming through the glass cast an eerie effervescent radiance to the dark sacrificial chamber where you are imprisoned. Surrounding you in a circle around the altar of the "Chosen One", you can see twelve young naked women bound to the floor by restraints, with their legs spread wide and their sex totally exposed. The moonbeams shining down from the stained glass cast a colored circle of a light on each of the nude priestesses, a different color for each one of the twelve. I, The Master of the Dark walk up and stand before you. I look down and examine the red, protruding sex that hangs from your spread and bound legs. In my right hand is the black riding crop that I use to torture and abuse your bodily objects of defiance that inspire the hot fires of rage within me. My fist tightly grips the crop in my hand as I raise my arm, and with a quick forceful flick of my wrist the sting of crop is felt on your cunt and lights your clit on fire. I look up to see tears beginning to flow from your eyes, and I hear a soft whimper escape from your lips. In a roar of anger the words "Silence bitch" flows from my mouth, and another sting of the crop is felt against your inflamed sex. I kneel between your legs and take my fingers and spread your swollen cunt lips apart. On each of your lips I attach a clamp with a piece of gold yarn tied to it. I then take the other end of the yarn, pull it, and tie it tightly to a ring fastened to the altar. I then proceed to do the same with the other clamp and piece of yarn. You lay there now with your cunt lips fully open, with your vagina and clit hanging out in space ready to be abused for my pleasure. I lower myself to my knees and stare endlessly at what lies between your legs. As I lose myself in a trance you can hear my words in the form of a prayer..."Lord of Darkness...The moon is full and high in the sky...It is the thirteenth day of the thirteenth month of the calendar...The priestesses of Lucina are present...Let the ritual of transformation and ascendance begin." With that pronouncement I raise my hand, riding crop in grip, and unleash a powerful sting from the crop onto your totally exposed sex. You instantly feel a blinding pain rush down from your red swollen clit into your body and right to your womb. I look up at you and see the mask of fear sweep across your face as I again inflict another hard sting of the crop onto your exposed sex organs. I look down between your legs and I can see the glistening of blood as it begins to pour down your inner cunt lips from your vagina. I then bury my face into the sex between your thighs, licking, sucking, and drinking your juices as they flow freely from your vase of fertility. As I raise my head from between your legs, you can see your blood covering my lips, mouth, and tongue. I stand, turn around, and look down at the priestess immediately at your feet. I then lower myself between her legs and begin licking and tongue fucking her expose genitals. After a couple of minutes I stop, back away and examine her ravished cunt and I can see she has also begun to bleed. I return to the sex between your legs licking you, sucking you, biting you, and drinking you to refill myself with your essence. I then turn around and go on the next priestess in the circle. I continue this ritual until every priestess in the circle has been visited. After finishing with the last priestess in the circle, I walk over and stand before you. My organ is stiff and completely extended. I look up to the full moon shining through the stained glass window and yell out with all the fury my lungs can supply..." My lord of Darkness...the ritual of transformation has been performed...The priestesses of Lucina by ritual of blood have anointed the thirteenth 'The chosen one'... I have walked through the fires of Hell to serve and now I shall be served... The ritual of Man/Beast is now upon her." With one movement of my hand to my extended organ, a milky white juice shoots out from the head and covers your body from your tits to your puffy spread cunt. You look up at me, and see a reddish glow about me and sweat dripping from my bare skin. I look straight into your eyes to a spot in the back of your mind and plant a thought deep in the folds of your brain...."You are mine to possess...Never defy me...I am all that you see and know...I am your pleasure... I am your punishment...I command you and NO OTHER...Your will does not exist...My will is all you feel...You do not exist apart from me...Know this and you will be happy." I break eye contact with you, leaving you in a daze. I look up toward the sky and scream out..."The beast is within... I am the beast" and then reach down and touch my stiff extended cock with my hand, and you begin to feel golden raindrops descend upon your body and mix with the milky white juices that were already there. I then lay down on your outstretched body taking your hands in my hands. I lean forward and kiss you so deeply your breath is removed from your lungs. As I breathe a breath from my lungs into yours, you can feel the penetration of my stiff organ against your blood strained sex. My hips begin to move up and down, scraping the walls of your tight vagina and rubbing the length of my penis across your tender clit. I continue doing this movement of my hips, harder and faster, as I perform the ritual of the beast. I whisper under my breath as I ravish your mouth with mine..." I am man and animal... you are my prey...you are my slave". I stand up and look down at you after I have finished having my way with you by the ritual of the beast, and see you laying there so helpless and spent. I summon two male slaves to set loose the priestesses. Once released from their restraints they all come to you and begin licking your body clean with their tongues. They lick and clean every spot on your body until there is not a trace of anything but skin. After finishing bathing you, they dress you in leather restraints and bring you to the chamber of caves. You are chained to the wall and left there to think about what has transpired on this night of the full moon. You will remain there until summoned for my pleasure... The Ritual The doctor sat waiting for me to speak. She was behind me in her big leather chair holding a steno pad and an expensive pen. I was lying on her matching leather couch, wondering where to begin. I had no clue how to tell the story, so I just started talking. "I was a sacrifice in a Polynesian fertility ritual," I told her. "I see," she mumbled. Yeah, I'll bet you fucking see, I told myself silently. You have no idea, Psycho Bitch, I wanted to say, but I didn't. "I was in the Philippines," I explained, "Researching a new book on McArthur's World War II return. It was a low budget trip, so I was working alone, spending most of my time in the jungle trying to retrace the movements of the Americans left there fighting as guerrillas before McArthur returned and retook the islands." I took a deep breath and let the memories come back. The smell of the wet, rotting jungle floor came back to me, as did the feel of the hot mid-day sun, and the feel and taste of the clear streams crashing down out of the mountains. "I had been in the jungle for maybe two months when they found me. They were on me in the blink of an eye. I never saw them, never sensed them, never even knew of their existence until I found myself lying on the ground wrapped in their net." I stopped for a moment and wondered to myself just how I should tell someone, some reasonable person, some academically trained twit of a professional… just how do I tell them that I was captured by a tribe of naked Amazon women who fucked men to death as part of their religion? The blessed doctor of psychological bliss and healing sat there and listened as I told the story. They carried me through the jungle tied on a long pole as if I was a wild boar hunted down and killed for dinner. I hung there as they trudged along, my hands and feet tied with crude jute ropes. I asked myself if this was some kind of joke or was I really being kidnapped by naked women who spoke some kind of language I had never heard. I had no answer, no clue. They walked for a long time, it seemed like hours. I swung there on the pole in silence, a silence disturbed only by their occasional groan or sigh as they shifted the weight of the pole on their shoulders. From best I could tell, I had been captured by what amounted to a hunting party. Six women, I think. One of them was clearly the leader. She was taller than the rest, black headed, wide shouldered, and full breasted with red clay markings around each of her nipples. There was a crude tattoo on her stomach that I swear looked like an arrow pointing down to her pubis. The only thing she wore was a necklace of rawhide drawn through several round dried objects. I remembered thinking when I saw it how much I hoped to God that those round things weren't testicles. (They were, I later found out.) When our little party arrived at their camp we were greeted by at least thirty other women ranging in age from very old (prune looking) to teenage (nubile looking). I must have been some prize, I told myself, because the whole camp began to dance and shout and party. Of course, I had been dropped on the ground so my bearers could shake off the soreness and get patted on the back for being such brave and efficient hunters. Things began to quiet down a bit when the leader walked over to stand near me. She stared down, looking me over from head to foot, and then she smiled and began to shake her head up and down slowly. The stone knife was in her hand and she was on top of me before I knew what happened. She began cutting away my clothes with the knife as the camp came alive again with shouting and clapping. When she finished by cutting away my boot laces and tossing away my favorite pair of fucking boots, I was left naked on the ground wondering what was next. I didn't have to wait long before the leader grabbed my shriveled cock and pulled. There is an old saying that I have subscribed to for all my years: pull a man's cock and he'll follow you anywhere. Have no doubt that I followed my cock right up to a standing position, giving up my place on the ground without a moment's hesitation. The camp clapped and shouted as the leader fondled my cock and balls as if she was inspecting them. When she seemed satisfied, she ran a hand over the hair on my chest and frowned. She nodded to a couple of her Amazon buddies and they stepped behind me to hold me just a breath before the leader began to shave the hair from my chest with her knife. Her eyes on mine told me it was some kind of test. Would I whimper and cry and shrink away? No, I decided. I had been dry-shaved before. (That bitch back in Boston didn't know what she was doing.) When the leader had finished with my chest, she made quick work of my stomach, but she stopped before taking all of my pubic hair. I had thought she might take that hair too, and had prepared myself, but she stopped and stepped back to admire her work. "Yugga wugga zip doo," I think she said to the two holding my arms. Whatever she said, they both clamped strong sucking mouths on my nipples at the same time. I stood there being stoic, a good soldier, all those B-movie things, but I didn't last long, I had never had my nipples treated like that before. The leader grinned as my cock began to show signs of rising to the moment. As my cock rose the whole camp seemed to react. Many of the women there, young and old, dropped to their knees and turned their naked asses to me. Hell, I told myself, they're offering themselves to me, offering to rut or fuck or whatever they call it. The leader actually laughed aloud as she watched them respond to my cock. When she spoke loudly they all stopped and got up to stand and watch and listen. Her words came out of her mouth when she spoke to them in a way that reminded me of Douglas McArthur. She cocked her head to the side and paused between phrases just like the old General had done over fifty years before when he dramatically waded ashore to articulate his return to the Philippines. She held the group with her words, it was clearly her tribe. Of course, I had no idea what she was saying to them, some of it having to do with me, I was sure. But it was clear when she finished, because they all began to shuffle off with heads bowed to make an orderly line in front of the opening in the largest hut in the village. The leader took my cock again and began to lead me. I walked behind her since only my hands were tied then. She led me toward the hut door at the front of the line. Someone out of my line of sight appeared and handed the leader a military campaign hat. It was old and ragged but clearly American in make and shape. Goddamn, I told myself. The hat was just like the ones bus drivers wear, and some cops still do. The hat was khaki in color and I got a good look at it just before the leader placed it on my head. The four stars on the brim and the embroidered name inside the band told me what I could only guess: it was one of McArthur's old hats. The village cheered as I stood there naked in McArthur's hat. They cheered and the leader held my cock as if it was some kind of handle. She only let the cheers continue for a minute before she led me into the hut. She spoke over her shoulder to the first person in line and the woman almost jumped through the hut door with a big smile on her face. I watched in amazement as the woman dropped to her knees and turned her pussy and ass to me. The leader kicked me in the back of the knees so I would drop, and the woman quickly scurried over to place her pussy within inches of my shamelessly growing cock. Before instincts took over and I entered her, the leader pulled a jar of red salve from behind her and began to smear my cock with some kind of pungent smelling stuff. It tingled and burned all at once, but I didn't have time to reflect on it before the leader kicked my backside and I dutifully entered the woman waiting for me. Yes, I fucked her, whoever she was, I fucked her, and she seemed to like it. The leader stood by watching approvingly until I came fast and hard. The woman rolled away from me and put her hand on her pussy as if to hold my cum inside her. She lay there on her back with her legs in the air seeming to me to be letting my cum soak in. The leader watched it all for a second and then took my cock in her hand to test me. To my amazement, I hadn't lost my erection. I had cum a bucket full and still was ready for more. The leader didn't seem surprised. She just rubbed on more red stuff and called for the next in line. I fucked her too, with the same result. I came and I didn't lose my erection. I lost count of how many women I fucked that day. Each of them took a load of my cum without taking my erection. It was amazing, fucking amazing, and I was getting into it. My knees were raw and scrapped, my back sore, but my cock was like something I had never seen. Right then and there I resolved to find out what the red stuff was, and if I could survive this predicament, I wanted to survive possessing some of the red magic salve. I kept fucking until no one else came through the door of the hut. I wanted to ask the leader if she was sure there was no one else, maybe somebody wanted seconds, you never know, but I had no language and thought it better to be silent. My cock was anything but silent. It was red from the salve and still hard and drooling pre-cum for another round. The leader saw and was smiling, I think. Then she knelt in front of me and made gestures that I took to say that it was now time for her and me to get down to our own business. But I had absolutely no doubt that when it came to fucking the leader, things wouldn't go like they had gone with everyone else. I was right. The leader pushed me back onto my back. My sore knees thanked her, my back almost melted onto the hut floor, but my red-painted cock stood straight up, or at least slightly curved straight up. The leader found another jar of salve and stood over me looking down at me as she fished her fingers around in the goo. She squatted down over me, her pussy open and wet above my legs. She squatted there as her fingers pulled blue salve from the jar and began to smear it over my cock and balls and pubic hair. The blue salve was cold to the touch as the red salve had been hot. I wondered for a moment, fearing creeping over me, was she going to freeze my cock somehow? Had her tribe discovered some sort of volcanic dry ice or something? But my hands were tied and she still had the stone knife, so good sense said wait and find out. Besides this Amazon was about to fuck me, I thought or I hoped, what man with good sense would want to mess with that? The leader stood and stepped over me, turning her back to my face. She squatted again then, her pussy and ass nearly touching my newly shaved chest. Her fingers found my cock again and began to stroke it with the cold blue salve. I moaned aloud at her touch, my cock wanting to cum, to have her, to do something, but she quieted my moan by wiggling her pussy back onto my face and sitting down. Let's just say she wasn't real clean. She wasn't real clean and she wasn't too concerned about me breathing either. Nevertheless, it came to me that I had better start performing for her or I just might smother right there in the middle of the jungle with an Amazon pussy on my face. My tongue pushed out and into her pussy. She must have liked it because she wiggled down tighter trying to get my tongue deeper into her. All the while she was stroking my cock with the blue salve, but to be honest I had lost track of my cock and its wishes. I had more serious concerns having to do with eating pussy, and breathing, and living to fuck another day. I do think I had just about decided that I was going to pass out when she lifted her hips off my face to let me breathe. She did that and changed the angle of her hips, pushing her clit down on my mouth and grinding herself into me. As she ground herself onto my mouth, her pussy slid over my nose, so I used it to push against her lips. Desperate times lead to desperate measures, but I didn't want my nose stuck in her pussy if her clit was going to be pushed down onto my mouth completely. I wiggled my head from side to side trying to please her but I was also trying to catch a breath here and there. When she came I thought I was going to die. Her full weight came down on my face. Her puckered ass clinched a wet kiss right between my eyes, her pussy sucked my nose deep inside it, and her clit pushed hard to get in my mouth for sucking. I survived by sucking with a smile on my face, pure and simple, I had to smile to get my mouth open wide enough to get air. All this and my cock was spouting cum like some uncorked fire hose. I passed out from either oxygen deficiency, nearly drowning in her pussy juice, or simple dehydration from seminal fluid loss, whatever the cause, I was out and gone from the living then. I woke up floating on a raft north of Manila. I was naked, everything gone, none of my supplies or cameras were with me. Nothing. And not even a hint of the red or blue salve left on my body. "So what do you think, Doc?" I asked the woman behind me. "Can we reduce my Thorazine dosage yet?" The Psycho Bitch didn't answer she just pressed the intercom button on her phone and told the orderlies I was ready to go back to my room. I left her office knowing that if I could just masturbate more I would be able to return to the jungle someday. But first I'd have to break-in a new pair of good boots. The Ritual I think I am lost. I took a wrong turn, I must have done, and now the sun is low and his rays in my eyes. Shafts of deepening light slant through the trees about me. I blink, dazzled. There was a path, but I don’t know where I left it. Stopping, I listen. Far away, the drone of traffic; an irrational fear subsides. As the sun tumbles slowly downwards in soft, gold light, I hear birdsong on the gathering breeze. I turn; my boots rustle in the first of the autumn’s leaves. Around me, the air is cooling; goosebumps flutter across my skin. I pull my battered jacket closed and search my pockets. Keys, wallet, wrapper from a chocolate bar eaten earlier in the day. Mobile ‘phone. No signal. I jam the useless ‘phone back out of sight and keep turning. I am standing at the bottom of a great, wooded bowl. Before me is an ancient Oak, King of the trees that surround him. His canopy is vast, beginning to turn a thousand shades of gold with the season. Under him, nothing grows; the ground crunches with acorn husks and dry leaves. A twitch-tailed squirrel scatters in a scrabble of claws. My frisson of fear returns… what has made him flee? Unconsciously, I draw my jacket tighter about my body and continue to look around. I have the oddest feeling I am being watched. Ranged a distance about this mighty tree, his subjects are beeches and lindens, tall and straight and smooth-trunked, their leaves glowing in the waning sun. One has fallen, tearing down with him his closest neighbour. Berating my reasonless fears, I jump up on this vantage point. The ground rises all around me – I cannot see road or path. But— Oh, my God. In the cloak of shadow that the Oak pulls about himself, there stands a figure. I cannot see it clearly – it is half-hidden and the golden sun still dazzles – but it is tall, hair long and dark and wild. For no explicable reason, the sight goes through my body like a shaft of wildfire. I overbalance and half-scramble, half-slide gracelessly to the forest floor, my boots clumping to the ground and my back flat against the trunk of the fallen beech. I am shaking, but it is not from the adrenaline of the brief fall. Something rivets me; I stare at this silent shape as though transfixed. It watches me, amused and curious and, somehow, faintly… …predatory… I feel its gaze explore me like the soft tip of a feather; I find myself pulling my jacket tighter across my breasts, trying to shrink into the fallen beech behind me. Carefully, still watching me, it moves. It moves in silence. The forest is in silence. I was not aware when the birdsong stopped, when the scrabbling squirrel had fled, but now I am alone and the silence rings in my ears. The figure moves with a delicate grace and a subtle sense of power; slowly, as if attempting not to frighten me further, it takes a pace forwards. Another. I am unable to take my eyes from it. A third silent step brings it from the Oak’s shadow into a dappling of sun. Haloed by the light, he is beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful; wild and alien. His tangled mane of hair is the hue of the tree behind him, his bared chest like deeply polished wood. But it is not his beauty that has my hands clenching into white-knuckled knots of tension, my throat closing in fear and disbelief… Stepping delicately over the leaf-litter, he has no feet. No feet! His legs are strong, gracefully muscled under a fine pelt – God, it looks soft – yet they end in elegant, cloven hooves. Shaking my head at the insanity of it all, I have to sound the thought to myself. Satyr. I cannot breathe. Satyr! This is crazy. Mind tottering with incomprehension, I drag my gaze upwards. His hips are beautifully carved - smooth, bare, gloriously human. And from their centre… My fingers twitch; I have an overwhelming urge to touch him, to run my hands over the flawless beauty of that incredible cock. I want to feel how good he feels. My lips part, I find I can breathe again – now all too swiftly. Colour is rising in my cheeks. Unable to help myself, I am rubbing my palms on the trunk of the toppled beech. Seeing me look, he has paused. Watching. Waiting to see what I will do. Anticipation swells within me; there is a powerful, wanton glow building deep in my belly. Beneath my jeans, the first stirrings of a primordial hunger that thunders in time to the blood in my temple.. My God… A fourth step, picking that small hoof high above the leaf-litter and placing it carefully. His head is tilted to one side, studying me with a whetted sense of impatience. I become aware that my knees are shaking, teetering under a rising wave that will crash into a flood of wordless wanting. Adrenaline. I want to run. Towards? Away? He is fully in the light, now; his beauty mesmerising, more than human. The planes of his face are smooth and sun-darkened like his sleek, polished body. Tiny, horns lend him a faintly Pan-like aspect but his full lips are parted; I find my eyes on them without realising where I’m looking. The thought of them caressing me, his hot breath teasing my skin… And that wave of wanting breaks over me. I stagger under its onslaught. Beneath my torn-kneed jeans, I am aching; craving his attention as if he carries lust with him like a weapon. A fifth step and I can see his eyes, green and gold and yellow and glittering; there is a danger in him; the passion of his being burns savage-bright. I find I am letting go of the front of my leather jacket, dropping it from my shoulders. As I do so, an inane voice in my head is cursing my shapeless, battered garments. Had I known when I left my tent this morning… I find the courage to stand upright. The movement brushes my hungering, swelling lips against the inside seam of my jeans and the contact has me biting my lip. At my reaction, he smiles – sending lightning thrilling through my skin. His eyes travel the length of my body as I drop my jacket to the ground; searing, challenging, appreciative. I’m entranced, how can I be otherwise? Amid the deafening raging of my body – my nipples bra-less against the rough fabric of my t-shirt, my pussy begging for his attention – I become aware of a new sensation. I’m nervous. This is no dream, no fantasy, no fiction. I am alone in a sunset woodland and I am— Like a pouncing cat, he is standing before me, trembling with intensity. Oh, my God. This close, he carries a powerful musk that fills my head like a drug. Wild-eyed and wild-haired, he’s untamed and primeval; his skin begs to be touched, the tremendous curve of his cock is insanely tempting – and a little scary. I watch, hypnotised, as I lay my hand flat against his pectoral. The cool evening breeze raises the hairs on my arm. The contact is a fierce shock; it brings my nipples hard against my t-shirt and makes my hips twitch in longing. He shivers, his pleasure echoing through me. It gives me the confidence to repeat the movement. Unable to utter a word, I run both hands over his chest, his shoulders. His eyes close. He surrenders himself to my touch and I hear his breath sigh warm between his lips. Overawed, I pull back, the palms of my hands burning with smoothness and heat. His eyes open. The light in them is dangerous; I half-expect him to tear my t-shirt from me but he grins like a daemon and runs the back of his hand down the side of my face, pushing aside a stray wisp of my hair. Lightning shocks though me. Without knowing how I got there, I am on my knees before him, shaking like the great Oak’s leaves. And in front of me… I cannot help myself. His hands tangle my hair as my lips part. That first touch, first taste… incredible, inexpressible; the sensation of having that beautiful, smooth cock pushing between my lips is almost more than I can stand. For a moment, I cannot move – he is still silent – and then I am free of my nervousness and fear; I am hungry, eager, wanton, sliding my hands over the soft fur of his thighs and pulling him into me. Oh please… His grip tightens in pleasure; he makes no sound. But his need, his response, is feedback enough. The rise of his urgency lifts me, too; I feel his cock bucking and twitching, loving how much I want it. I wrap one hand about that velvet-warm shaft and let myself slide forwards, pulling him deeper in to my mouth, my tongue stroking him, coaxing, caressing. His musk is making my head spin; without realising, I am pushing my hips back against the tree trunk behind me, grinding against something, anything, with no more shame than a bitch in heat. I need to be teased, touched, filled and penetrated – in front and behind; oh God, everywhere… Slowly, he pushes forwards further, and my throat opens for him; I feel him slide all the way and oh that’s so good... His hands knot harder in my hair. Then he slowly, slowly withdraws as if understanding that I am savouring every slipping inch. When just the very tip is resting at my lips, my hand and tongue still stroking him, he gently pulls my head back so he can look at me. Those eyes..! Watching the need in my expression, he takes himself in one hand and begins to slowly stroke his cock, right in my face. I hear myself whimper, I can’t help it; he bares his teeth as he looks down at me relishing every movement. My hands are finding my belt buckle, fumbling to free my hot, wet skin to the coolness of the evening. I all but tear my button-fly open, scramble to push battered jeans and no-one’s-going-to-see-them panties down over my hips. With my flushed pussy bared to the air, my jeans gracelessly round my knees, I find I can pick up my own scent. A flickering of his nostrils, a lifting of his jaw, tells me that he has found it too. He inhales, loving it, his lips parting to drink it in like wine. Oh… But he denies himself, looks back down at me. Every nerve in my body is still aching to touch, taste, savour… Playing, he pushes forwards and I grab for his hips to hold him in place, gratefully, greedily taking his cock in my mouth and sliding my lips and tongue and throat down over him as if to never let him go. My exposed cunt is swollen, desperate, but I don’t want to ever stop… I want to stay here, hands and mouth where they have always dreamed of being. Inanely, I wonder if I’m going mad, but the thought is swamped by washes of ecstasy as his pace increases. He’s starting to let himself go, fucking my mouth with long, sweet strokes. And I am sobbing with pleasure, deep in my throat – I have never made noises like this. Slowly, abandonment – is it his or is it mine? – overcomes me. Scruffily half-naked, I forget that I’m rubbing my starving pussy on the heel of one of my Doctor Marten’s. I forget the forest around me, the great Oak, the coolness of the air and even the warmth of the body I kneel before. My focus is one thing: the sexual, sensual sliding of that tremendous curve of cock, thrusting to the hilt into my hot, needy mouth, and withdrawing to thrust again… Time is lost to me; there is nothing else in my world. I give myself up to sensation. I do not see the evening light coalesce into smiling, feminine shapes – a handful of maidens as beautiful and as wild as he is. I do not see them close round us, their supple hands brushing his shoulders, their exotic eyes drinking in the scene, their soft lips parted. The sun loses himself lower in the darkening sky and the air cools to a dream; in silence, always in silence, they have come to watch the ritual. Without warning, the contact is broken. He has withdrawn – I start as though waking, look up, then round me, wide-eyed. My body still wants, my arse is bared to the gathering twilight. For a moment, startlement, embarrassment and fear struggle with the still-blazing fire… then he lowers his hand to me and raises me to my feet. He consumes my attention; his strength and wildness, the touch of his hand on mine. I stand, forgetting how ridiculous I must look, my boots still on and my jeans round my calves… As though commanded, I stand upright, taller than the maidens round me. I pull my t-shirt over my head, exposing my breasts to the air. My nipples are delicate, pale pink – but they’re as hard as cork and as sensitive as fingertips. He sighs in silence, enjoying my nakedness with an anticipation I feel; he raises his hands to touch me and I cry out at the first shock of contact. Around me, it is echoed by soft, musical voices. His hands become rougher, his thumbs flicking back and forth over my nipples. I quiver; my skin is so alive! The voices round me sigh with me; delighted laughter sprinkles the air. He leans forwards and I feel his breath – oh God so warm! – against the side of my throat. He’s inhaling the scent of my skin. The realisation is electrifying and I’m not sure why. Oh, please… I am unaware that I’ve said anything aloud. There are hands on me, like leaves brushing my skin. Soft and insistent, they pull me backwards, down onto the trunk of the fallen beech. Long hair tickles me, laughing voices sparkle in the air. More of them reach for my boots and jeans; I find myself naked, utterly exposed, and laying back like a sacrifice. Those sweet, feminine hands are parting my thighs, stroking my skin, holding my shoulders, teasing my hair free from its band and letting it free – long and loose. Moth-gentle lips brush against me. They’re holding me down… They’re holding me down? For a second, fear and anger crystallise and I try to sit up. My mouth opens to demand an explanation. Tinkling with amusement, they’re stronger than me; I am on my back across this fallen tree, my thighs held apart in a grip as strong as silk. Helpless. He stands over me, idly stroking himself while he relishes the view, the anticipation. They watch him, too – whispering to each other in a susurration I cannot understand. His hands rest, dark and strong as tree-roots, upon the soft skin of each inner thigh; he lowers himself to his knees before me. Looking down over my own restrained body, my breasts and belly and trimmed, eager cunt, I see him transfixed at the sight – catching his lower lip between his teeth. He spends an endless, maddening moment just looking. Then he leans forwards and brings his mouth to me. That first touch is almost too much. My breath explodes out of me; I am writhing, half in pleasure and half in a frantic effort to get away – but the hands are merciless and do not allow me to move. His fingers are gripping me hard now, there is a deep, soft growling coming from him as he bends into another taste. I buck and flex, crying out. More whispers, more soft kisses teasing my skin. In a half-daze, I wonder: are they mocking my mortality – my inability to withstand this kind of pleasure? He seems to understand. His tongue begins to caress me in long, smooth strokes; I relax, let the heat and exquisite, excruciating tide of pleasure carry me. My face is burning, my breasts aching; I feel soft, cool fingers stroking my shoulders and belly. I am an instrument being tuned by a master musician, an artwork created by a sculptor without peer. There is no struggle to my pleasure, no tension, no concentration – as the pace of his tongue steadily increases I am circling my hips towards him, wordlessly begging him not to stop. I hear his rumbling growl increase. Gently, he teases my clit with the tip of his tongue, making me shudder. He leans in closer, parting my lips with his fingers and gently fucking me with his tongue's tip. My breathing is light, swift, shallow. The discomfort of the tree below me, even the hands that hold me there, have gone. I am lost in the primeval blood-pounding of the pleasure he brings. He slides two of his fingers into me; I feel myself tighten round him. A long, shaking cry escapes me. Keeping a steady, thrusting pressure, he turns his tongue back to my clit and caresses it with slow, circular movements. I am writhing, thrusting my hips towards him, wanting more - and he increases the pace of his fingers slowly in tune with my movements. His growling grows deeper, more urgent. His tongue moves faster, now flickering side to side. I am starting to tense, the first hint of the climax that will come; he takes my clit between his lips and sucks on it, gently and my tension becomes an arch-backed, inarticulate plea. He withdraws his fingers from me and uses them to part my lips further. His tongue teases my cunt, then begins to thrust, gently at first - and then deeper. I can hear my own voice begging him me to fuck me, not to stop. I’m going to come— He withdraws, connection broken. Panting, cheated and flushed, I watch him stand, his mouth glistening. He raises his fingers, breathes in the scent from them then offers them to me. I want to taste myself on him, but the hands don’t let me up and I watch him offer my taste to the nearest of his maidens. She takes it prettily, her sweetness giving me an ache all of its own. But his attention is only for what it does to me; wet, open and crazed with the need to feel that cock in me. With his sexual, rumbling growl thrumming somewhere deep in his chest, he takes a half-pace forwards and leans over me, his hands on the beech tree either side of my shoulders. I can do nothing but stare up at him, wordless, breathless. He wild tangle of hair falls forwards, curtaining us from the world. Only those eyes – human, and more than human… The tip of his cock tantalises me. I strive to tilt my hips, bring him to me but he twitches back, staying just out of reach. Again: Please! His mouth twitches at my need. There is a pause that seems to last forever. Then he throws his head back – how has the sky over me become so dark, I can see the stars! – and with a wordless, merciless cry he thrusts his cock into me. My cry is almost a scream, rising into the night. He, too – a guttural shout of connection and intensity. Around us, the whispering has become a soft song, a steady throb that hints at Bacchanalian wildness. He withdraws. Slowly. I can feel every movement, every slip. My cunt sucks his cock as if I don’t want to let him go. He thrusts again. Equally slowly. His long, deep stroke has me helpless with shivering pleasure, awash with sensation – I want all of him, strive to push my hips towards him as he penetrates me to the hilt. Oh my God, yes! His hair falls over us; his impossible eyes watch me intensely. He withdraws, he thrusts again – swifter now, even deeper. A sweet, steady pace that has me begging him to fuck me, to fuck me; telling him not to stop and oh, how good that feels. The music rises around him; sweet and fluid but with a swelling rhythm that catches at my pulse and breathing. I am moving my hips, matching him, trying to drive him faster. He withdraws, thrusts again. Never taking his gaze from mine, he increases his pace with me, swifter still, his hips circling in a motion that finds my hard, bared clit and has me flexing, writhing, needing. Yes like that… oh, yes… I tense my muscles around him, gripping his cock in hot, wet walls. His breath hisses between his teeth. He fucks me harder, leaning closer over me; our breath mixes as we sigh. Around us, music deepens – a tide of life that lifts us, carries us. Like the erotic throb of tribal drumming, it picks up my heart-beat, the shallow swiftness of my breathing, the wordless cries that escape me. It picks up the sharp, fiery shocks that race through my body as my clit sparks with pleasure and I shake with a rising need to come. The Ritual It’s a drug; wrapping me in pleasure-awareness so intense I have no thought of myself. I am music, I am swells of heat and savage, primal ecstasy. My hands are digging into the trunk of the tree; unknowing, I am fighting the feminine restraints that hold me, freeing my legs to wrap them around his hips and pull him to me, urge him on. Fuck me hard! My God, I can feel my cunt walls being pressed apart and slid over and into; I cry inarticulate sounds that increase as his swiftness does. Hard! His strength and passion are matchless; lifted by the ever-faster throb-throb-throb of the music, he is losing control, his head thrown back to the sky and his hips now pumping urgently. I grip my legs around him, fight to free my arms, to wrap myself around his shoulders, kiss him, beg him to come… With a thrilling of laughter under the music, they are still there, still holding me. I can feel them, too – hands upon us both. Struggling, I cannot, cannot— In the midst of heat and passion. I feel a sudden kiss on my forehead. Like the sting of a birch switch, it’s hot; I feel it from my forehead to my nipples to my trembling clit – it brings me right to the breaking of the wave… Yes..! At the same moment, he looses a many-toned shout that chimes with the music about him, with the full-throated cry on my lips. I feel him shake, feel the wave of climax rise within him, feel the huge wash of release break over and through him. His hips tense; small sharp thrusts as he comes hard in me. Oh God… And, I am coming too – unable to help myself, spilled over the crest of the wave by his relief. Head back, legs tight and back arched; I have lost control of my hips. I flex and shiver; his cock twitches as I tighten, pulse, around him. Around us, the music tightens to its crescendo and falls away. I am myself. Warm with afterglow and shuddering occasionally in reaction, I am just me. For the briefest of moments, he look down at me, lays one hand against my mortal cheek. Then the music ends. And he is gone. In the cold night air, my back aching from the beech-trunk under me, I sit up. I am alone. And I think I am lost. The Ritual I strode towards her, my hard erection straining against the smooth satin of my boxers. I had not loosened my tie, nor removed my overcoat. I still was wearing my dark leather gloves. She was naked, and her soft white skin gleamed in the flattering light. Her breasts were firm and soft, set high, and with perfect pink nipples, standing firm thanks to the winter chill. My gaze drifted down her flat stomach down to her perfect vagina. It was styled as a Brazilian, one line of soft golden fur guiding my eyes to the centre of her being. Her perfect face, with its high cheekbones and full pouty lips was exquisite, turned slightly upwards, the languid eyes half-closed, and expression of ecstasy highlighting her beauty even more. She was perfect. The chains that held her upright were shielded from her ivory skin by soft silk scarves. They held her arms akimbo, slightly above her head, and her legs apart, opening her to me. She had doubtless had one of the servants display her so. It gave her such pleasure that any man would have been happy to, if but to watch. Once, when her fixation was but mild, I had handcuffed her to the bed. I had no idea what it would awaken. She smiled at me. The ritual she lived for, doted on, was coming, just as she had planned it out, just as we had done it, a thousand times before. She opened the pretty mouth. "Oh, you've..." "Silence." I sounded hard and cold. She obediently shut her mouth. "Look at you. Shameless! You're shameless. Enticing me with your body." I moved a step closer, ran my gloved hand down a smooth white flank. "Your perfect, soft body." My fingers slid in and out of her sex, seeking out her clitoris, my hand closed off to the warmth and moisture. I could hear a change in the pattern of her breathing. It came slowly and more heavily. Just as her pleasure became more intense, I stepped away again. When she began to breath normally, I would do so again. I felt the instances of tightening and writhing as the gloved fingers shoved deeper inside her. Although I was, usually, a gentle lover, it was the roughness that she craved, the slight tingle of mild pain. Of course, I could never, truly, hurt her...but this masquerade? This dance that made her moan so, buck and climax at my touch, that made her so devoted...would she stay with me if I deprived her of the urge? As I slid the gloved hand in deeper, three fingers entirely in and out, I became more conscious of my own feelings, my body's own throbbing response...could *I* live without it? I could tell by the raggedness of her breathing, by the flush of her face, and by the swelling and moistening of her womanhood, that she was ready for the next step. I ran the gloved hands across my lips. My tongue darted out to taste her, and then I let my hand fall to my side. "See, there you are. Seeking your pleasure. Sly, manipulative, cruel." "I..." she said. "I said shut it." I was throbbing immensely now. Her body writhing, her gasps, they had made me desire her all the more. I slipped my hand inside my coat, and unzipped my fly. My penis sprang loose from the boxers, and the head pointed towards her moist pussy, seeming to know my mind. Her eyes became hungry as she watched it. Taking my organ in my gloved hand I began to masturbate, quite roughly. My hand slid, up and down the shaft, and I moved closer and closer to her, my hips rolling as I did so. She licked her lips. I began to breathe heavily, buck and roll my head, as my own arousal became too much. I began to hear the little squelches that mark a proximity to orgasm. I stopped. "Now look what you made me do!" I slapped her across the face, not hard enough to really hurt, but hard enough that she could feel it. "What a bad girl you are." I took my still erect penis, and put it close to her face. Her tongue reached out to touch it. "Oh, do you want this?" "Yes." She gasped. "I bet you do. I bet you'd like one of these for your very own, wouldn't you?" She nodded. "Maybe you'd like to touch yourself, like I did just then." She nodded again. I moved it closer, my foreskin touching her navel. "Perhaps, you'd like to use it on some pretty girls, is that it? Do you want to probe them, fuck them, come in them?" She began to moan softly. I trailed my penis up and down her body, from her vagina all the way up to her chin. Then I stepped away again, and moved behind her. I let the head of my penis rest against the ring of her back passage, let the tip circle the sensetive flesh. "Or maybe its some pretty boys that take your fancy, is it? Would you like them to see you, feel you, touch your dick?" I almost spat the last word. She was breathing heavily again now. "Yes..." "Maybe you'd like to butt-fuck them, huh? Like this..." I slid my erect penis into her tight anal passage, all the way up to the scrotum, until my chin was just above her shoulder. "Is that what you'd like?" I began an insistent pumping. "Oh please, yes." I gave a few more thrusts. "Hmmn...well. You can't." I pronounced can't so it sounded like cunt. I pulled out again, and not gently. "What a naughty girl you are. What a bad, bad girl. I can see you will have to be punished. " I moved to my briefcase, and opened it up. I was so close to orgasm I had to concentrate to avoid shooting over the gentle rush of air as I walked. Out of the briefcase I took a small riding crop. It had belonged to her when she was in the polo club at school. I moved back behind her again. I drew the riding crop back and struck her on her buttocks. She gasped and moaned, as I did so. And I repeated it. Again and again. It took but a few moments for her to climax, her juices trickling down her leg, over the soft bed sheets over which she stood. She screamed and writhed and thrashed, each blow bringing her to another orgasm. The sight was incredibly sexual. Unable to contain my energies any longer, I moved to her front, and without delay slid myself into her now soaking womanhood. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulled her tightly onto me, feeling the soaking walls caress the ramrod of my flesh. I knew she had orgasmed already, more than most, but for her not enough. She wanted to come with me inside her. I slid my hands onto the soft white buttocks, drove her harder and harder against myself, feeling the pressure of her soft stomach against my pelvis. My fingers squeezed the now developing bruises slightly, giving her that little edge she required. I could contain myself no longer. I gently strained my hips against her, then threw my head back. I moaned but a little, restraining myself, but could not resist a gasp of delight as I climaxed, hot, sticky semen shooting up from the tip of my shaft, barrelling deep down inside her. Twice more I felt the pressure, the twitch and squeeze of my erection as, my toes curling, my orgasmic fluids mingled with her own. The Ritual She felt the tap on her cheek. A hand tapped it again. When her eyes fluttered open, the hand became a beckoning wave. She took a deep breath and let it out. The hand was gone. But she knew what she was to do. She got out of bed and followed the hand. Standing in the room, he looked at the 42-year-old brunette. He approved of her nudity, admired the shape of her figure. When she bent down to set her panties and nightgown on the bed, he admired the roundness of her ass. "The Nectar Ritual," was all he said to her. He watched her tits jiggle as she knelt before him. He called it the Nectar Ritual. But she always thought of it as the Blowjob Ritual. But never aloud, he would not approve of that. She had checked him. There was no large tent in his boxers. She would first have to get him hard. She pulled his boxers down to his knees. Holding his phallus in one hand, she pet it with the other. She always pets it in one direction, from the base to the head, as he had instructed her so often. At first, it just lay in her hand. Then it began to lengthen, to stiffen. When it rose from her hand on its own, she held it in her hands. As was required by him, she held her hands open. The palms were together as if praying. Between her hands was his phallus. She held it as tightly as she could. That was the way he wanted it. She could feel blood pulsating in it. "I love you," she said, not to him but to his phallus. Then she kissed the tip of him. "I worship you," she said with another kiss. "You are my master," another kiss. "I am your slave," a kiss. "Please give me your nectar," she said, continuing to address only his phallus. "It is what my body craves." On the sixth kiss, she took him into her mouth. Her lips pressed against her thumbs, she only had about two inches in her mouth. She could have taken in more of him, but she wasn't to move her hands. She held her mouth still and started to tongue him. That was how he had told her to do it. She sucked on it a little as she tongued him. She hoped it wouldn't be long. Sometimes, if she had been instructed to perform the Copulation Ritual the night before, it would take a long time to finish the Nectar Ritual in the morning. She continued to tongue his head for ten minutes. Then, he started to moan softly, rocking his hips. In another five minutes, he stood on tiptoes and moaned loudly. His cum spurt into her mouth and she swallowed his nectar. With each twitch of his phallus he would spurt more nectar for her to swallow. She wasn't allowed to let any escape. Back down on his heels, he sighed with relief. He loved watching her pray to his dick. And he loved the way the slow blowjob gave him more intense orgasms. He watched as she took her mouth from him. Holding him tightly still, she kept his dick stretched out. When a drop of cum would ooze from him, she would take him back into her mouth. In spite of her hold, eventually his dick retreated into her hands. Only then did she move her hands to her thighs. Another drop formed and she took the whole of him into her mouth. She sucked the drop away and swallowed. "That was pretty good," he told her. He stepped back a little. A drop of cum fell from him and landed on the floor. He hoped it would. She leaned forward. "I'm sorry, Master," she apologized as she licked the drop from the floor. He liked the way it made her look as if she were groveling at his feet. But then, she was groveling before him. "Very well," he told her. "I need to get dressed now." It was her cue to raise his boxers. She lifted the back over his ass, pulled up the front and adjusted them to his waist. Next to her nightgown, he had already laid out his clothes for the day. She picked up his jeans, and still kneeling before him, she helped him into them. He sat on the bed as she put his socks on, even tied his shoes. She finally stood when she put his T-shirt over his head. He was dressed for work now. She looked at him with questioning eyes. Except for the Ritual, she was not to speak. "I have to be the job site at 6 A.M. every day this week," he informed her. "Expect to be woke up early every day." She was grateful for his telling of the situation. She nodded at the understanding as much for her consent. He continued to explain how the foreman had them coming in early, leaving late. The overtime would be good. As he talked, she put her panties and nightgown back on. Finally, he left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. She looked at the clock and realized it wouldn't go off for another hour and a half. She could get a little more sleep. Gently and quietly, she returned to bed and placed the blanket over her. She smiled as she reveled at her submission to him. She heard the front door close, signaling that he had left for work. In his slumber, her husband placed an arm on her shoulder. She knew she had erred. She had dressed in her son's room. She was never to be in his room unless nude. He said nothing of it at the time. Yet, she knew that her punishment would be the Anal Ritual tonight after her husband had fallen asleep. She made a mental note to check his nightstand for lube. It would be after her husband had left for work. For even with him gone, she felt compelled to follow his rule and not enter his realm while clothed. Like a number of my other stories, this story attempts to answer "what if". I have fantasized about my son and have even written of it. But what if I were to give myself to him completely? What if I were to do whatever he may desire? The Ritual The moon, swollen hung full in the night. Darkness caressed her skin, skyclad she felt power dripping from her body. The Night of the Great Hunt was alive with sounds and scents. Once in the clearing, she began the ritual, cleansing herself as well as the ground by her craft. As the hour drew closer she began to dance, lost in the moment. Her breasts felt tender, a thrum pulsed from deep inside her as she became wet. Twisting and dipping she swirled with the exertions of the dance until her skin began to glow. Without thought her feet found the ancient patterns, soon the magic rose around her, forming shapes of mist that danced with her, then as she released the power the mists dropped into the ground. A sharp tang filled her senses as he arrived at the edge of the clearing. She could feel the pulse of his blood, pounding hard. Long minutes passed as she felt him watching, even as her dance changed from joyous and free to a seduction. Sinuous movement of arms and legs wove a sexual act as her hips thrust and her nipples hardened. Then she stopped. Her chest heaved as sweat dripped. A new movement began as she shifted her feet her hips began to sway to the tune of the night. Energy flowed from the ground up through her body even as the air seemed to congeal around her body, making her appear both soft and diamond hard in the moonlight. He stepped forward entering the circle. Long black hair hid his face as he crouched, his arms spread wide, he circled her like a warrior seeking an opening. She thrust back her shoulders, arms wide to the sky, still swaying even as she turned to face him. His movements threatening, cautious, hers taunting, welcoming. Thrice they circled, each time closing the gap. Now she allowed the power to flow out of him, no longer willing to control, she risked all by releasing him. He tensed, a gasp tore from his throat, like a man having fallen from a cliff to plunge deep into an icy lake, he once more breaks the surface for a life-giving breath. Awareness entered his eyes, no longer black with animal cunning, now human intelligence filled those eyes. For a moment he broke the rhythm as he straightened up to look around in confusion. Then her power, whip-like lashed across him, he gasped as his softening cock, instantly hardened. His eyes were drawn to hers. He licked suddenly dry lips as her sway drew his eyes down. Her scent, wild and hot was drawn deep into his lungs. His eyes moved up her body, then she felt a flash like lightning as their eyes met. She laughed, loud and long at his growl of lust. No longer controlled by her his strength and power lashed out to surround her. The Goddess had sent her a match. He raised a hand, eyes still locked with hers, even as she began circle him. He slowly turned even as his feet began to match her steps. They began to dance matching movements like an imperfect mirror. Her gestures smooth and flowing, his strong and rough. Slowly they blended as she raised her hand allowing their fingers to touch, then their fingers spread. Hands closed locking them together. She felt the rapid beating of their hearts match. Pounding filled her head as she felt his power surge and overwhelm her, gasping she collapsed. In an instant his arm swept around her back to hold her upright, tight against his chest. Rough hair tickled her nipples hardening them painfully. Never before had she felt so faint, so weak, so powerful as energy filled the air around them pouring into them both. For long endless moments they were poised, motionless, his hand holding her hand out wide from their bodies, the other arm tight around her waist like dancers frozen in a dip. Then his mouth dropped to cover hers. Shudders ripped though her body even as his tongue pushed deep into her mouth. A sharp tang of male taste filled her senses even as her tongue touched and then danced against his. She felt helpless, shocked by this feeling, her power seemed magnified by his, yet his flowed solid like a mountain from the deep earth, while hers came from the air surrounding them. Gently she felt herself settled on the ground. His power from deep within the Earth itself reached up to fill her even as seconds later he filled her. Her shriek of pure lust echoed across the night as her legs closed around his hips trying to draw him deeper. With each thrust the earth shuddered beneath them, yet even as trees shook she clenched him deeper inside her. Energy flashed exploding through her body, erupting through her skull as her orgasm burned through her. Each hard thrust lifted her even as his hands dropped to clench and grasp her ass pulling her back onto him. Ritual was lost as his head dropped to allow his tongue to play across her chest, licking up their sweat, leaving hot trails behind. Her hands flew up, first to clench at his shoulders, then to claw and dig in for purchase as she was lost in the insane maelstrom of lust. Another orgasm ripped her into shreds of pleasure- her soul seemed to splinter into tiny pieces- then she was again pulled back in as his lips locked on her hard nipple, sucking it deep inside his mouth before his tongue darted across it. "Aiiieee" She screamed as another eruption took her. The moon over his shoulder seemed to shudder in time with the waves of pleasure sweeping away her sanity. He entered her with a hard slapping sound, then he changed his stroke, now moving back until it almost slipped out, causing her to sob with loss, then he began to move forward, glacially slow. He filled her, it felt like a mountain growing inside her, infinitely, painfully slow it moved into her depths. She screamed her frustration, her pleasure as he filled her. An eternity passed of erupting tension until that moment when he was fully sheathed inside her. Then like the tide, he withdrew. "No!" She screamed as he began to withdraw just as slowly as before. He legs locked around his hips, trying to hold him inside her. She knew she couldn't survive this terrible, merciless onslaught again, it would kill her for pleasure. Again at her entrance he paused, and then just as slowly he started it over. For what seemed like hours he moved, in then out of her with that awful, joyous patience. Each time he withdrew she tightened behind him, so that when he once more relentlessly moved forward she was so tight, it was like he took her virginally with each remorseless thrust forward. Her world shrank to that tension, that movement, that contact. And the power the flowed through them both. Unnoticed the sky clouded, first flowing and then racing across the sky to cover the face of the moon. He was once more poised at her entrance, the tiniest contact maintained, when his lips met hers. Gentle, with incredible tenderness as his hardness maintained contact, his teeth nipped and played across her lips. Learning her shape, memorizing her mouth exploring it's texture. Then, just as she relaxed, smiling against his mouth, his tongue plunged deep into her mouth even as he thrust deep into her. Lightning ripped across the sky leaving the sharp tang of ozone. Her shriek again tore the night as he now pounded into her. Her hips hurried to meet his thrusts as the wet slapping of their meeting matched the pounding of their hearts. The skies opened as rain pounded down unnoticed upon them. As she once more erupted she felt his body go rigid, deep inside her. All movement froze and then his release filled her. Their combined orgasm flared through them, the earth shuddered even as a bright glow like the sun filled the night exploding out from her circle of power. Long moments, an eternity later she came back to herself. Soaked with sweat and their combined juices, the sharp tang filled the air even as she was cradled in his arms. The clouds parted as the moon once more floated full across the sky. A warm breeze slowly dried them. Gentle lips met hers smiling even as their heartbeats separated, each slowing. "How, where am I, No- Forget that." He whispered, his voice deep and cultured. "Who are you?" "I am the Queen of this night." She whispered, sharing his smile. "I must, I want you, I..." He paused shifting uncomfortably even as she felt him begin to grow hard still inside her. "Again?" She asked, laughter and joy filling her voice. His answer was a laugh as he moved once more into the primitive dance of life. * * * Later, much, much later she rose, reluctant to leave the warm of his arms even as the chill dawn air raised goose flesh on her body. He slept, curled on his side. His cock, now spent with a dribble of seminal fluid staining the dirt they had exposed, worn right through the soft grass by their violent lovemaking. "Truly this night was blessed." She sighed, even as her hands caressed her belly, aware already of the growth that had started this night. A new generation of witches had been well welcomed into this world. She had met her match, her mate, she would never forget this love. It filled her. She barely resisted bending down to once more touch those lips, instead she called her power again. Fading the intense love she knew he also shared with her, allowing him to think this a wildly vivid dream, so he could survive the remainder of his life, without more than a vague regret. Now he would find another to share his life, that was her gift, her thanks to him, emotional survival. Then like the mists, she turned to disappear into the rising sun. The Ritual Circle When something happens, something really big, even life-changing, do you let it slip away without a word? Do you want to forget what you did, what was done to you, hoping it will fade into unscarred perfection? Or do you mull over that grain of memory and coat it and polish it until it shines like the lustrous pearl in a keepsake necklace? Well, as you might guess, I'm the kind of person who likes to polish my memories so that I can rub them over my skin again and again. I want to re-ignite the fire of that first time, but caress the burning sharpness out it. And so I will record what has happened to me, or, really, what keeps happening to me, as long as I keep doing it. You see, I have a ritual, a ceremony of humiliation that I can't help but return to over and over. I have been a willing victim. I have given myself up into an elaborate, staged, confusing, erotic enthrallment. Close your eyes and you will see me: a pure virgin sacrifice, and yet so ripe, so wet, yearning for it. I have been formally inspected and then used, hurt, opened and forced to orgasm under the patterned hands of so many, men and women and others too. And for what? Why did I endure this? Well, because they needed it from me. And because I wanted it. If you're a curious reader, you might wonder how I became a player in this strange world of erotic ritual. The answer is: chance. A message posted on a telephone pole. An exchange of glances with a pair of dark, brilliant eyes. An anonymous text message with precise instructions. Do the details really matter? No, not really, because if it happens to you, it will happen in a completely different way. Your summons will come to you and you alone, the way my summons came to me, through unpredictable happenstance. (Or at least, it appears that way at first.) So let's skip the details and enter deeply, intimately into memory. Let's imagine that I have shown my interest and received my instructions. I am to go to a certain place--a tall, narrow townhouse with heritage architecture--and I am to knock twelve times, loudly enough to be heard throughout the building. It hurts my knuckles to knock so hard, but I persist, making each blow resounding and deliberate. As soon as I come in from the street, even before the door is fully closed, I am met on each side by two figures all in white with veils over their faces. They are covered from head to toe, but I am very quickly exposed, as their milky hands strip me down to what I have been ordered to wear underneath my street clothes: a clinging black silk camisole, black panties, and nothing else. They take my shoes and stockings. My feet are cold on the stone floor, making the flesh of my arms and thighs prickle with goosebumps. The white-robed acolytes are blank as ice and just as slick in seizing and escorting me down the hall to a tall, black-varnished doorway. I am brought down into an underground cathedral, a dark cavern that is as moist and hot as my own hollow space. The red light of torches ripples across pendulous rock walls: a cave of forgotten dreams. I am escorted by these slight figures in white --women, youths?-- whom I may not touch, though they may touch me from behind, and they do. All the way down the stairs, I am fondled and stroked in very patterned ways: first my neck, then my waist, then my ass. They pull down my spaghetti straps so that my shoulders are bared, and I clench my arms to hold the silken camisole over my breasts. I've volunteered for the ritual but I don't know what they will do to me. I only know that they need a woman like me: pure and responsive. The cultists are archetypical in number and attire: twelve figures all in grey cloaks and hoods, standing in a circle. Their sexes are ambiguous, but I don't think they are all men. They are, however, all powerful, and they hold me pinned in their forcefield, the web of influence they generate. I am placed in the centre of the circle. Already I can feel them appraising my body until I blush hot with visible vulnerability. "The candidate will take off her top," says one figure. It is a man's voice, a light tenor, somehow almost familiar, but coldly impersonal in asserting his authority over me. I shiver even in the heat as I pull the camisole over my head. It slips from my fingers and vanishes, carried away. At his command I lower my arms to my sides and turn around slowly, displaying my firm, high breasts to the circle. I am embarrassed to realize that my nipples are already taut. I want to cover them up, but I can't make a move without permission. And the next order only exposes me further. "The candidate will remove her panties." This voice is a woman's, rich and resonant with hunger. I am moving before I realize she has commanded me, as if my own desire anticipated what she asked. I pull down my panties and step out of them, baring my most intimate parts. I bend over to fetch my panties from the floor, an act almost more humiliating than stripping them off was. A white-robed acolyte steps forward to take them. To my dismay, they are not borne away discreetly like my camisole was, but are handed around so that everyone can see the slick patches of wetness staining the crotch. Several of them sniff or touch my wetness with bare hands. I feel like they're getting a taste of me through their fingertips. Oh gods, what have I got myself into? Next comes the inspection proper. There are twelve of them in a circle that closes tight around me, and each one comes at me from a different angle, one at a time, while the others watch on. I am approached from behind first, so quietly I don't realize what will happen until a pair of hands roughly seize my ass. The hands run down my legs, the way one appraises a horse, lift my feet, then run back up my waist to feel my shoulders, the back of my neck. The hands run up through my long hair, ruffling and then smoothing it in a perversely intimate fashion. Finally, they return to spread my cheeks, one finger pushed against my asshole and another at the very base of my sex from behind. I tremble and moan, and receive a hard slap for my protest. The sound echoes, but this time I stifle my cry. The second figure comes at me from behind but at a slightly different angle, focusing more on my right than my left cheek. And so they continue around the circle, leaving not part of me uninspected. From the front angle, at least four sets of serial hands squeeze and pinch my breasts and spread my lips, stimulating me until my wetness begins to leak down my thighs. On each side, the ticklish flesh on my ribcage and inner hips is brushed to live-wire sensitivity so that I can barely stand still. The circle completes behind me, with a final blow applied like a seal to my burning bottom. "The verdict?" Says one voice. All together and unanimous, they answer, "She is the victim." And the lights all go out. I honestly can't say whether I am relieve or terrified to be selected. There are rustling sounds in the dark, currents of air against my skin, and I want to cry out, 'What's happening? What will you do to me? Oh please, have mercy, be gentle with me!' But I am a victim and I have no voice. When the lights come on again, there is a stone altar in the middle of the room. It is genuine, massive, rough granite, not a prop. I have no idea how they placed it there so silently. I could hear the rustling of robes being dropped, but not the sound of a monolith slotting into place? It's too strange. But I barely have time to think about it, because my thoughts are occupied by the transformation of the figures. Each one has shed its robe, and now all the figures are attired in nothing but leather straps that emphasize their varied genitals and the stylized masks of animals. I think there are six men and six women at first, though a couple of the figures are ambiguously sexed. There are birds and beasts. One seems to be a fish. Some are highly symbolic power animals --an owl, a stag, a wolf, a bear-- but others are obscure, almost random: an okapi, an armadillo, a heron. They are of various races, but all are fit and strong in their way, be it the whippet strength of a runner or the stocky rhinoceros heft of a wrestler. I feel incredibly fragile before them. Any one of them could snap my slim wrists in their hands. I fall to my knees instinctively, in a posture of worship and supplication. "I am the victim," I whisper. "Please take me. I am ready to die." The figures, faceless as they are, seem both approving and amused. "You will die many times, victim," says the stag. It's a woman's voice: an antlered female. "And you will beg for each little death. Now, onto the altar." I stand up, but hesitate to get on. Aren't they going to make me, to lift me bodily and force me? "We must see you do it yourself." Hisses the fish. And so, awkwardly, I climb up. I am still shifting my weight and settling my bottom on the edge of the stone when all the animal-faced cultist surge forward as one. I am grabbed by the hair, by the throat, by the breasts, and pulled down. They grab my legs and stretch me out, thrashing and pulling me like a chew-toy between them. I scream despite myself as my wrists and ankles are bound to the corners of the altar in iron manacles. My legs are pulled wide apart to bare my sex, and my breasts too are completely exposed. A wild mood has taken over the group, a holy ecstasy. Every single thing that happens to me seems at once completely purposeful and utterly spontaneous. They take turns working on me, at first singly, then in twos, threes, fours. And before I know it I am begging for release, for orgasm, and eventually for a halt, a cease to my endless stimulation. The quick, dark-skinned okapi lashes out first, striking me across my entire body with a crop made of some tough, springy wood, while the armadillo stands by laughing at my cries. He plays skillfully across each breast, hitting me several times in a row and then staying his hand just long enough for the pain to settle in before thrashing me again. It's as if he can feel what I feel and knows exactly how to make me hurt the most. He doesn't stint on my sensitive belly, my abdomen and inner thighs. I beg him not to strike between my opened legs, but when he does I find I'm saying "yes" as often as "no"; I feel so subjugated and yet so stimulated that I am almost out of my mind. Once my flesh is softened up, the animals begin to take it in turns to degrade me and use my body for their pleasure. The woman in the mask of a fish has me lick her, eat her out, as she crouches over me searing me with a heated metal shaft. I am terrified that she will stick the shaft up inside my sex and burn me beyond repair, but though she gets to the top of my shaved mound, she knows others need to have their turn. She burns and burns me until I bring her to orgasm, her juices salty as the sea on my tongue. Tasting it, I almost come with her; my body spasms and my hips arch. The figures murmur in appreciation. "A worthy victim," I hear a voice say. I am deliriously happy, though I suspect it will only make them use me harder. And I am right. The man in the rhino mask is so big. His shaft is so thick and hard and long, and I, though a grown woman, am a virgin, still narrow and tight. When he takes me, it is like being torn in two. At the same time, the owl-woman and the cat-boy stand behind my head and grip my shoulders and breasts in their claws, pushing me down, keeping me from escaping. The cat-masked youth begins to kiss my face, to lick my tears away. Is it kindness or a very twisted, perverse cruelty? As the rhino thrusts into my screaming flesh, the cat's tongue on my face and throat stimulates me and again through all the pain I feel myself cresting, coming to the edge, almost--- But he explodes inside me before I can come myself, and when he withdraws I'm left gasping. "Please, please!" I sob incoherently. "Oh let me! Oh make me! Please make me come!" The tone changes. The intent focuses. I have said the words that bring us to the next stage of the ritual. The wolf approaches me, androgynous and beautiful, and produces three clips worked in elaborate gold metal. All the others stand back. The wolf places a clip on each of my nipples. Instantly, I feel a tingling pricking sensation. They are...electric? Magnetic? Resonant, in some way I have never experienced before. The wolf holds me in suspense for long moments before finally attaching the last clip to my clitoris. I arch instantly, my body flowing. It feels so intense I think I might black out. The sensation overwhelms me and I buck and thrash hysterically as I'm caught in an orgasm that begins in my clenching feet and spreads up, like a wave of fire through my entire body. I can barely scream, barely breathe; I gasp at my peak with tiny high-pitched noises. But something is happening to me. The sensation isn't ending. I feel caught and held at an intense point of stimulation, and they are not taking the clips off of me. No, not at all. Instead, they are each taking the opportunity to violate me while I am completely helpless, one at a time, hungrily, as if seeking to capture and swallow some part of my grace. With each of their culminations my already ongoing orgasm spikes again, impossibly, unbearably. The men penetrate my body's every orifice, often touching each other or one of the women as they do it. The women suck and enter and manipulate me --and each other—with hands and lips and mouths and breasts in dizzying profusion, so that I can barely tell body from body, myself from them. I do know that the stag is the final one to take me, the hermaphrodite antlered female, mounting and riding me slow and hard with I know not what; a carved dildo, her own flesh, some organ entirely new and unseen in history, I can't see I can only feel it huge and hot inside me. Is this a hallucination? I am being torn apart, they're devouring me, and I'm begging for it, begging for an end to what I wanted and cannot stand, begging for ultimate consummation through ultimate sacrifice. 'Make me your victim,' I want to cry, or really do cry, I cannot tell. 'Make me your victim, and finish this! Now!' After that, darkness. Yes, I was sacrificed. But clearly I'm still alive. After all, I polished this memory up and posted it here for you to read. The major difference, the change that ended one life and brought another into being, is that I belong to them now. I am their favourite, their eternal victim. Because what makes a ritual is repetition. And so it must be done to me again and again. I always want it. I am always pure the next time. I always end this way. I would have it no other way. This is my ritual and it turns my world, season to season, life to death and back. And so I go now to complete once again what I've always begun and never yet ended: the ritual circle. The Ritual of Binding If anyone had asked Will for the complete list of what he would most like to be doing right now, 'sitting in the waiting room of Walsh and Holbien, Attorneys at Law,' would have come in under getting a long, slow root canal. He had just been here yesterday for the reading of his grandfather's will, but now it seemed that even death was not going to stop Grand-dad from pulling one last surprise out of his hat. Mr. Walsh came out and met Will in the reception area after only a short wait. "Hello, Mr. Graham. I understand this is very unusual, and I thank you for coming on such short notice." "Unusual is one way to put it. And how could I not come, after you called and told me there's a secret section of the will, only for me. It had better not be some secret stash of money he wants to give me - I couldn't keep something like that from the family." "Nothing like that, I assure you. Before I give it to you, I am directed to give you this letter from your grandfather. You can read it in the board room right across the hall, if you'd like, and then come back to my office when you're finished." "Thank you." The chairs in the board room were ridiculously plush, but surprisingly not very comfortable. Will tore open the envelope and read Victor Graham's final message. *****---***** Dear William, People have often said that I lead a charmed life; even you used to say that I must have a guardian angel looking out for me. Well, I don't believe in angels, but the fact is there's some truth to the rumours. What I have to tell you now is going to sound completely insane, but I can assure you I have not taken leave of my senses. The simple, unbelievable truth of the matter is, I've had help, and now I want to offer that help to you. You are the only one I would consider giving this to, and I hope you will accept it. The amulet my lawyer is going to give you is the source of all the good things that happened to me in the last 20 years or so. There's only one thing you have to do, but it's important: once you have the chain around your neck, you have to turn the amulet over and let three drops of your blood drip into the three small indentations on the back. Once you do that, it is yours, and everything will become clear, I promise. I'm not going to try and explain it to you in this letter - I'm sure you already think I'm cracking up. All I can say is to try it, please, for my sake. I did, and I never looked back. If you're wondering why I'm giving this to you, then there's something you should know. I've never shied away from saying what was on my mind, as you know, but there was one thing I could never say until now: ever since you came along, I have always felt closer to you than I did to your father. Don't feel guilty about that, it's not wrong - it's just the way it is. He never approved of the way I lived my life after my wife passed away. But you never judged me - you understood that my life is my own, and I always loved you for it. That's why I've decided to give you my most precious gift. Even if you think I've gone around the bend, promise me you'll take my gift and do what I told you to do. It will be the best decision you make in your life, I guarantee. Goodbye, Will. Thank you for being you. Your Grand-dad, Victor. *****---***** Will had no idea how he was supposed to process all that. After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he walked back to the lawyer's office and knocked softly on the door. "Mr. Walsh? I'm finished." "Good. Please, have a seat. I suppose there's nothing else to do now but give you this." He opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a brown envelope, then hands it to Will. "Can I open this here?" "If you like. Victor said it was for your eyes only, but I'm acting as your counsel right now, so nothing I see or hear will leave this room." Will opened the package and took out a fine sliver chain necklace, with a small pendant. It was also silver, just a simple flat disc around the size of a quarter. There were three small indents on one side, and two words crudely engraved on the other: Semper Una. He pointed out the words to Mr. Walsh. "That's Latin, isn't it? Do you know what it says?" Mr. Walsh had to hold it up very close to his face to make out the inscription. "Yes, that's Latin. It means always one, always together. Did Victor's letter have anything to say about it?" "He said it was his good luck charm, and he wanted me to have it." Will decided that was all he needed to say. No point having Grand-dad's friends thinking he was nuts. He put the amulet back in its envelope, and put it in his coat pocket. "Mr. Walsh, thank you so much for everything, but I'd really like to get home now. It's been a hell of a day." "Of course, Will. We're finished here. If you have any other questions, please don't hesitate to call. And again, you have my condolences." *****---***** As soon as he got home, Will opened the envelope and took out the necklace. He held it up in front of his face and had a good long look at it. Then he looked up toward the ceiling and spoke out loud, "Grand-dad, I'm touched. This obviously meant a lot to you." He opened the clasp on the chain and put it around his neck. "Thank you." The company had given Will three days of bereavement leave, and with this being a Saturday, he now found himself with some time on his hands. He considered getting together with some friends, but he was in no mood to go out and be social right now. "I'm always so busy, always running around. This will be a good chance to slow down, have some me time," he thought. There was that book he had been reading for months - he picked it up and sat down to finish it. But before long, he found his heart wasn't in that either. He kept fidgeting with the amulet around his neck and daydreaming about cutting the tip of his finger and watching the blood drip down. Will took the necklace off and put it on the coffee table, then thought better of it and moved it to the dresser in his room so he didn't have to look at it. He turned on the TV and flipped to the movie channels. After searching through all the standard Halloween crap, he finally stumbled upon an old favourite, Aliens. He had come in right at the beginning of the first firefight between the aliens and the marines, and he was instantly engrossed in the action. But once the action slowed down, and the marines were just talking and making plans, Will again found himself thinking about the amulet, glancing towards his room, wondering what might happen. He flicked off the TV in frustration. "This is ridiculous! And now I'm talking to myself, great!" He stomped back into his room, snatched the amulet off his dresser, and yelled at it. "All right, you want my blood? Will that get you out of my head? Fine, you got it!" Fastening the chain around his neck as he went, Will walked to the kitchen to find something sharp. Steak knife? Scissors? No, just three drops, not a gusher. He dug around in the junk drawer, not sure exactly what he was looking for, until he saw the perfect thing - a safety pin. Moving quickly before he changed his mind, he poked his left thumb with the open pin. It hurt more than he thought it would, and then no blood came out. He squeezed it, but still nothing. Holding his breath and gritting his teeth, he pushed the needle in again, further. "Ow! God dammit!" At last, there was a tiny spot of blood. It wasn't enough to drip, and so, holding the amulet up with his other hand so he could see it, he smeared the cut on his thumb over the first indent in it's reverse side. He waited for a moment, but nothing happened. He squeezed another bit of blood out and rubbed it on the next bump in the little coin, and waited. Nothing. He had to pinch a lot harder to get another drop out, but it was better that then poke the pin in again. A tiny drop seeped out of the already healing pinprick, and he pressed it onto the last indentation. A moment passed. And then another. Will studied the little coin closely, looking for any sign that something was happening. Then he looked up and said, "Well, now I feel like an idiot. I hope you're happy!" He leaned over the sink and turned on the water, running it over his thumb. "I only did this because it's Halloween tomorrow!" Once it was cleaned off, he held the amulet by its edges and brought it to the stream of water to wash it off. As soon the water touched it, he heard a woman's voice cry "No!" Will was so startled he fell on his ass, and then skittered backwards until his back was against his cupboards. "What the fuck?!? Who's there?" He heard the voice again. "I'm sorry I startled you, but you were going to wash your blood off before the ritual was completed, and I don't know what would have happened if you did." Will froze. He couldn't see anyone in the kitchen, although it sounded like she was right next to him. "Who are you? What the hell is going on?" He got up on his knees and peered over the top of the kitchen counter, but there was no one else around. "I am Qarin, the spirit of the amulet. You have offered your blood and performed the ritual of binding. Now we are forever together, forever one." "What?!? No, no, no, this can't be happening! I didn't know!" "I'm not going to hurt you. Don't panic." "Don't panic? Are you kidding me? I just summoned an invisible demon into my house! Now is a perfect time to panic!" "William, I am not a demon. Do you think your grandfather would give you the amulet if it was demonic?" The panic was receding from Will's mind, and he was able to calm down enough to think. "No, he wouldn't do that. All right, if you're not a demon, then what the hell are you?" "I am a companion spirit. Some would call me a familiar. I'm sure you will grow to love having me around - Victor certainly did." "Why?" "I can hear what people are thinking. Victor was a fine salesman even before he found me, but with me he was unstoppable. Before you ask, I can't do it over the telephone or any of these other things you've invented to avoid personal contact; the person must be close by." "Are you kidding me? Even if I believed you, there must be a catch. What do I have to do in return?" "You don't have to do anything but let me in. Now that we are bound, I get to inhabit your body. You're not possessed, don't freak out, I'm just along for the ride - I can't make you do anything. You can't imagine what it's like to be a spirit without a body. I can't see or hear or touch anything in the physical world. All I can sense are energy vibrations, emotions. It's usually just a big muddle, but sometimes I get glimpses of people's thoughts. Now I can experience everything you experience, and every sight and sound is a treasure beyond words." "This can't be happening. I need to sit down. I need a drink." Now that the shock was over and the adrenaline was wearing off, Will was feeling exhausted. He got himself a beer from his fridge and sat down on his couch. "Is this for real?" "It's for real, believe it. By the way, you don't need to speak to me out loud - I'm in your head. You know what you should do right now? Get off your ass! It's Saturday night, don't you want to go out, be around people, eavesdrop on their thoughts? C'mon, it'll be so much fun. I've never been bound to someone as young as you before, I want to enjoy it!" "Man, I want to, but I'm so tired. I need to sleep. We'll go out tomorrow, I promise." "I know you're tired, but I think going out will make you feel much better. Once you get out there with the people and the music and the dancing, you'll feel like a million dollars!" Will was dozing off right there on the couch. "Forget it, Qarin, I can't do it." He got up and made his way to the bedroom, almost crawling. "God, why am I so tired? It's not that late." The spirit kept pestering him to go out, but it took everything he had just to crawl under the covers, clothes still on, before sleep overtook him. *****---***** The little red numbers on the alarm clock read 9:03 when Will opened a bleary eye to check. His back and neck were sore, like he slept in an awkward position, so he decided he should get out of bed. "What the hell happened last night? I wasn't drinking, well just that one beer after -- holy shit!" The events of the previous night came rushing back to memory, and he reached up reflexively for the amulet while calling out, "Qarin? Are you still here?" More quietly, he added, "or am I totally losing my mind?" "I'm here." "Okay, at least I'm not crazy. Man, I can't believe how quickly I crashed out last night. And I still feel so tired - what's up with that? I slept more than I usually do." "Here's the thing. I'm a spirit but I'm not a ghost - I am alive, and I need energy to survive just like you do. You kill other living things and then eat their bodies for food. I siphon the energy I need directly from the spirit inside living things. The problem is, I don't have any way to store energy - I have to feed constantly. But now that we are bonded together, I can give all my excess energy to you, and slowly draw it from you as I need it." "So I'm like a battery to you. Nice, real nice!" "I wouldn't have put it that way, but let's go with that. Right now, the battery is very low, so we feel tired. That's why I wanted you to go out last night. When people are out having fun, they're full of energy, and I can draw that energy from them. Once we do that, we're golden." "And what happens to the people you feed off of?" "They're fine, just tired like you are now. A good night's sleep is all they need. Remember, Victor trusted me - you can too. And believe me, once I get the battery charged up, you won't believe how you'll feel. You won't get sick either, and everyone will say you're glowing. Let me ask you, the last time you saw your grandfather alive, did he look like he was in his seventies?" Once Will thought about it, Grand-dad had hardly seemed to age during the whole time he had known him. "So no one gets hurt, and I'll feel like a million bucks. Okay, let's do it. I just wish we could go out now - even after a good eight hours of sleep, I still feel like hell." "Will, don't freak out when I tell you this, but that wasn't eight hours of sleep. That was twenty. It's PM, not AM." "What?!? No, that can't be right. Sorry, I really tried not to freak out. All right, let's get moving!" *****---***** Two hours later, Will was through the line up and ordering a drink at the Lucky Lounge, after the biggest dinner-for-breakfast he'd ever eaten. It was already starting to fill up, and he was glad that he had arrived before it got packed. The music was darker and heavier than usual, but Will loved it - they must have brought a special DJ in for the Halloween party. There were a few really intricate costumes in the crowd that made him feel a little under-dressed in his jeans and Boy Scout shirt, but there were plenty of lazy people in surgeon's scrubs too. Once he got his rum and coke, he turned around to get a good look at the crowd, and his eyes were instantly drawn to a gorgeous blond woman in a pale blue Marie Antoinette costume, standing at one of the little drink tables by herself. It had a corset top pushing her breasts up, and a skirt that was floor-length in the back, and micro-mini in the front. Will looked around the club, but kept coming back to Marie time and again. Qarin spoke up in his head. "Her name isn't Marie, it's Micah." "So you're just listening in to people's thoughts all the time?" "Yes, now that I'm bound to you it's much easier. There's a lot of background noise with so many people in here, but I could see you were interested in that particular girl, so I focused in on her." "Micah, cool name. I can't believe she's here alone, she's incredible." "She's not. Alone, I mean. It turns out Micah loves it when her boyfriend acts jealous, so she has sent him to stand at the bar and wait for someone to hit on her. Once someone takes the bait, he'll come over and yell at the poor guy until he runs away. Apparently it really turns her on." "That is fucked up. Thanks for the warning." "I told you you'd love having me around. You seem to be feeling better, too." "Yeah, I'm not nearly as tired as I was. Have you been... feeding?" "As much as I can. You have to touch someone for me to feed from them, but they have to be open to you - if they have their guard up, they instinctively protect themselves and I can only get a tiny bit. I've been getting some table scraps from people bumping into you." "So, once the place gets busy, it'll be easier for you, right?" "I suppose, but that's not really -- wait, that red-haired girl in the velvet dress, over at the bar? Do you find her attractive?" Will looked to the bar and found who the spirit was referring to. She was taller than most of the girls here, with close-cropped, boyish hair dyed an intense fire-engine red. Her sheath dress was an emerald green, and clung to her very nicely. "She's gorgeous. Why, do you find her attractive?" "Oh yes, she's overflowing with energy! She's exactly what I need. I mean, what we need. This is our chance - she can't find her money and she's getting really upset. You should ride up on your white horse and buy her drink for her." "I could do that." He made his way through the throng of people at the bar until he was standing next to the redhead, then ordered another drink. While he waited, he watched her rummage through her purse and heard her chattering to herself nervously, "Dammit, I know I had more money in here..." Will raised his voice to be heard over the crowd. "Excuse me, is everything okay?" She looked startled by the question, and then answered him in an overly cheery voice. "What? Oh yeah, everything's fine! I just need to find that extra $20 I put in here." When the bartender came back with his drink, Will paid him and said, "Put hers on my tab too." "Oh, you didn't have to do that!" "Don't worry about it. My name's Will." "I'm Carmen. Thanks, by the way. I'm waiting for a friend - when they get here, I can pay you back." Qarin's voice whispered in his head, "That's not true; she just wants to give herself an out if she needs it. Still, she's opened up a bit - touch her so I can feed. A handshake will do." "Pleased to meet you, Carmen." He put his hand out, and Carmen shook it. Just has he was about to let her hand go, he felt something like a static electricity jolt, and a warm tingling feeling spread up his arm and flooded into his body. The shock of it made him lock his eyes on Carmen's and tighten his grip on her hand for a moment, and then he hurriedly dropped it and looked away. He didn't know what to say, so he took a long pull on his drink to try and cover his confusion. Carmen did the same, and it seemed she was a little disoriented as well. Qarin was so happy her voice almost sang in his head. "Oh, God, I needed that! Was that as good for you as it was for me?" He could feel, rather than hear her laughing. "That was awesome! Is it always like that?" "Yes, but that was at the low end of how strong it can be. She only opened up to you a little bit, after all. We'll have to work on her some more, she still has plenty of energy to spare. Oh, this is odd - she felt the transfer almost as much as we did. Usually they hardly feel a thing when I feed, only the tiredness after. Maybe it's because you're so young, I don't know. But she's very curious about you now. She wants to ask you if you felt something strange, but is too worried it was just her and she'll sound like a flake." He turned his attention back to Carmen. "Um, this is going to sound a little weird, but can I ask you something?" "Please do." She turned to him with a trace of hope and expectation in her eyes. The Ritual of Binding "Did you just feel... something... I don't know how to explain it. Never mind, I'm sorry, you must think I'm --" "No, no," she interrupted him, "I know what you mean. And yes, I did! It was like, electricity. Wow, what was that?" The bartender came back and asked if they wanted another round. Will nodded. Qarin jumped in while they were drinking. "Will, something very strange is happening with Carmen, and I don't understand it. I could use some help." "You need my help? You've done this before, I haven't! What could I possibly help you with?" "Look, something is really different this time. Like I said before, people don't usually feel the energy transfer, but now that she has, Carmen is quite open to us, and I can easily read her thoughts. But I can't understand them! On the one hand, she's powerfully attracted to you, and getting hotter by the minute, but at the same time, she has all these images of you kidnapping and torturing her running through her mind! If she thinks that is going to happen, why isn't she afraid?" Will glanced over at Carmen, and from the way she looked back at him he knew the spirit was right about her attraction to him. Just when he thought things couldn't get any better. "Qarin, those aren't her fears you're seeing, they're her fantasies. Haven't you ever heard of S&M?" "That's what she's thinking about? I've heard the term, but I don't know anything about it. It looks horrible! People enjoy that?" "Fantasy isn't reality - you don't actually do all the things you dream about. It's a game, you just pretend. Just watch, you'll see what I mean." Finishing his drink, he meets Carmen's gaze and just holds it until she shyly looks down. Then he says, "Carmen, your friend is sure taking their time getting here." She looks up into his eyes once more, a little thrown by his mention of the non-existent friend. "Oh, yeah, I don't think they're coming." "That sucks! Do you have any way to get home? 'Cause if not, I could totally give you a lift. When you're ready to go, of course." "That's so nice of you! You know, I think I'm done here. If you're ready, I would love for you to take me home now." *****---***** It was a short drive to Carmen's apartment, and like any gentleman would, he got out and opened the passenger door for her, offering his right hand to help her out of the car. As he walked her to her door, the spirit said, "She is totally ready to ask you to come in, but she doesn't want to throw herself at you with you being such a gentleman - you need to push just a little to close the deal." When they got to the security door, Will offered his right hand again, and she coyly held it as he said, "Carmen, I'm very glad I met you tonight." "So am I. It started off shaky, but this turned into a really great night." Will brought up his left hand, and when she took it in her other hand, he slowly pulled her toward him and kissed her. It started off as a peck, but neither of them could be content with just that, and it quickly became heated, and then all-consuming. Qarin quietly poked into his mind, "I need to take another bite! Just a nibble, I promise, this is killing me!" "Just wait," he thought. Without breaking the kiss, Will took both her hands and slowly and deliberately pulled them behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pinning her arms behind her back with one motion. Carmen moaned into his open mouth and melted into his embrace. "All right, Qarin, do it now." Will and Carmen both gasped loudly as their bodies burned and goosebumps raised on every inch of skin. Her breathing ragged, Carmen struggled to get her words out. "You have to push... 2501... on the panel." Will released her arms and reached for the security panel, but he was still shaky from the tidal wave that had just hit him. "Holy shit, Qarin, you weren't kidding! That was way stronger this time!" "When you pinned her arms, something happened in her head. It was like she knew I was here, and she wanted me to take everything. It was never like this with your grandfather when we would go out and --" Will had to cut her off. "Qarin, please, I really don't want to think about my Grand-dad right now!" The spirit fell silent. The distraction helped Will get himself together enough to punch in the code and let them in. She pulled him past the mailboxes, up a half flight of stairs, and down the hall to her place. Once inside, Will barely had the chance to close the apartment door as she led him to her bedroom. His clothes were on the floor in seconds, but her dress was so clingy that they fumbled with it for what seemed like forever, and nearly tore it before finally getting it off. He pushed her down onto the bed lying on her back, and positioned himself above her. There was no way he could wait another second, but there was no need to - she was more than ready to take him in. Moving as slowly as he could, he pushed his way inside her. Carmen cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles and pulling him deeper inside. He remained still, buried within her. Qarin's voice in his head seemed quite shaky. "She really, really wants you to hold her wrists and pin them down." Will had to smile; as if he wasn't planning on doing that already. He turned his head away from Carmen's face and looked to her right hand. Her gaze followed his. Then he deliberately wrapped his fingers around her delicate wrist, pulled it up over her head, and pushed it firmly down onto the mattress. She arched her back and purred, then moved her left hand up so he could grasp it as well. Shifting his weight forward a bit, he pressed her arms down heavily so she would not be able to move them at all, and then started to pump his hips, slowly, trying with everything he had to draw this out. Carmen uncrossed her ankles and brought her knees back and apart, surrendering to him. "She has a box of leather restraints and sex toys under the bed, and she wants to tell you about them, but she's too ashamed and embarrassed. She thinks she's a bad person for liking these things, so she's never told anyone about it. And yet, thinking she's bad makes her want it more." Qarin was clearly puzzled by the contradiction. Will smiled at the spirit's confusion; it looked like she would learn something from him after all. He leaned down until his mouth was right next to Carmen's ear, while trying to keep from putting all his weight on her wrists. It was murder on his back, but he knew he wouldn't have to do it for very long. Then he whispered, "Carmen, I'm so glad I found you. I thought I was the only one who ever thought about --" he gave her wrists a little squeeze, "-- things like this." A little shudder went through Carmen's body, and she started to writhe under him. He pressed on, "I thought there was something wrong with me, but here now, with you, I feel like everything's okay, you know, like I'm safe." Carmen's lust spiked to the point that she whimpered with the force of it. She tried to say something, but she couldn't make the words come, so she just nodded her head. "There's so much I want to do to you, Carmen." Her breath caught in her throat, and every muscle in her body tensed. She managed to squeak out a couple words: "Like what?" He slowly slid her arms even farther up, stretching them towards the headboard while he answered her. "What if I wanted to take your hands and tie them to your bed, up here?" She moaned loudly and started to move under him again. "Ah, I knew it!" He started to match the rhythm of her movements, and he knew they only had seconds left. "In fact, I bet if I looked under your bed right now, I would find all your dirty little secrets under there. Am I right? Should I look right now, my dirty little girl?" Carmen started to twitch and jerk underneath him. "No! Yes! Oh my God!" She was gone, thrashing like mad, and Will was one second behind her, screaming with the force of his orgasm. He felt like his body was expanding, like he was filling up the whole room. And then, it felt like Carmen's body softened until it was like jello, and he sank down into her. He was burning hot, and he couldn't move, he couldn't even form a thought, he just hung suspended for eternity. Finally there was a blinding flash of white light, and then everything went back to how it should be. He had collapsed onto her, so Will propped himself up and gently withdrew from her. Carmen half-opened her eyes and said his name in a weak voice, and then promptly passed out. He gently shook her shoulder a couple of times, and said her name, but she was out cold. "Okay, Qarin, what the fuck was that? You never told me any of that stuff was going to happen!" Qarin's voice came across almost as groggy as Carmen's had been. "I didn't know it was going to! You have to understand, ever since the beginning, I've always been bound to elderly, bookish types. They've never been able to store up much energy before they were full, and I've never fed from someone who opened herself so much. She was pushing every last drop of herself down my throat. Whoa! That book you just glanced at on her night table - go back, look at it again!" "What?" He looked across the bed at the paperback sitting face down and open on the little table. "It's 'The Serpent and The Rainbow,' by Wade Davis. That's really cool, but what's the big deal?" "Will, that book is ten feet away, and you never turned the lights on, but you can read it plain as day!" "Oh my God!" The spirit was right. And that wasn't all - after coming like that, he should be exhausted or asleep, but he had never felt more awake, more alive. He ran to the washroom and looked in the mirror. He could see the energy dancing behind his eyes, and he could imagine how he would look to everyone else: magnetic, compelling. Deep down he knew, he could talk anyone into anything. He felt giddy, and even laughed out loud. He felt like a child again, but with the knowledge, and the appetites, of an adult. He climbed back into bed with Carmen, and shook her again. "Carmen? Carmen? Come on, it's time to do all those things you want, the stuff I talked about." She didn't budge. He couldn't contain himself, and he shook her with more force. "Carmen! Let's go, the night is young!" "Will! Forget it, she's down for the count. I took everything." "So give her some of it back! I'm nowhere near finished with her!" "Doesn't work that way. She and I are not bound - I can only give energy to you." "God dammit! Well then, I guess we're going back to the bar!" He jumped out of bed and hurriedly got dressed, then ran out the door to find his shoes. "Will, wait! You have to at least get her under the blankets. I've never drained anyone this thoroughly before. I don't know how long she's going to be out - she'll freeze!" Growling with frustration, he ran back to the bed, jerked the covers out from under Carmen, and then flung them over her motionless form. "Good night, Carmen. Hope you don't get in too much trouble when you don't make it to work tomorrow, but there's nothing I can do. There, happy now, Qarin?" He got off the bed and went to look for his shoes at the entryway. Finally ready to leave, he opened the front door, pushed in the door lock, and pulled it closed behind him. The apartment settled into silence as Will walked out into the bright, vibrant night. The Ritual Pt. 01 Tap Tap Tap At last the waiting was over. My stepfather was at my bedroom tapping the door with that horrid cane. God how I loathed that man. "Come in." In he came with that sickening little smile of his. Without a word he closed the door quietly behind him and looked at me sitting on the side of my bed with its quilted pick cover. I had offered to prepare myself for my caning by being in my pajamas or bra and panties but he would have none of that. No, he relished the slow undressing at his own hands. I had offered to have the lights dimmed but again he would have none of that. Why dim my humiliation? At eighteen my body was in full bloom. And who was it offered up to love and cherish? Not some handsome young guy my age but to this horny middle aged man who had married my mother on a condition I was later to learn that he would have a free hand in disciplining me. She had consented. "Stand up." I stood and looked him in the eye with defiance. "Aren't you going to kiss your step father?" I lifted my head and gave him a kiss on each cheek. With that little ritual done he lifted my chin and put his nose almost to mine. From past experience I knew not to close my eyes at this close range but to look at him eye-to-eye as I smelled his fowl breath. "I'm going to enjoy this my sweet. Oh how I am going to enjoy this." He kissed my lips as I held them tightly closed. Then I felt his hand stroking my long brown hair as he continued to hold his lips to mind but with no attempt to part them. He took a seat on the side of the bed and placed the wicked cane down beside him. As I looked down at him he began to unbutton my blouse ever so slowly. In defiance I continued to look at his eyes so that each time his turned away from the task he was performing they met mind. This was my way of communicating my contempt for him. When the last button was unfastened he waved his hand. I understood. I took my blouse off and laid it neatly on an armchair as was another part of our little ritual. I returned to resume my stance before him. He put his hands on my bare waist just above my skirt and started in with his lustful caressing. As his hands meandered about he looked me in the eye and gave me that ugly smirk of his with his upper lip curled up on one side. "You like this, don't you?" He didn't expect a response and I didn't give him one. "I know you do. You don't need to say it. Your body says it for you." I looked down to see that my breathing had indeed quickened as shown by my rising and falling bosom. For a moment I held my breath to stop that but of course couldn't hold it for long. He widened his smirk as I felt his hands make for the fastener of my bra there on my back. In an instant he had it undone leaving me to hold the bra on by pressing my arms against my sides and the straps. Now his hairy hands were free to roam over my entire bare back. Once he tired of that he pulled the bra towards him and looked down. We both could see my breasts down almost to my nipples. When he pulled on the cups I pressed my arms tighter against my sides to hold the bra on. "Present your hands." I raised my forearms and presented my palms knowing what lay ahead. He picked up the cane began to strike them one at a time. Not hard, but without letup as I continued to press my arms to my sides to hold the bra on. I continued to look him in the eye as he continued on tap tap taping my sore open palms. He smirked. I hated it when I felt tears begin to form in my eyes from the unrelenting little caning of my palms. His smirk became the more hideous as it went out of focus because of the tears which I couldn't stop. "Put your bra away." I walked to the armchair where I deposited it neatly along with my blouse. Knowing better than to return to my stance before him with my hands covering my breasts I simply walked back with my burning hands at my sides. I stood there before him as he continued to sit on the bedside and moved his head all about as he visually inspected each breast. Then his hairy hands went to work as his fingers roamed over them. When he lifted them and looked up I could no longer look at his smirking face. As I stared off into space over his head I knew that I was losing this round. Then he went into his little game of lifting them and letting them drop only to repeat this over and over as my caned hands burned. Now his fingers began making little circles about my nipples. Damn it I thought as I felt them harden. Then I felt my breath quickening. Double damn it. My mind flashed to my mother who had to know what was happening from this silence. Oh God she must be picturing what is going on. I wondered if she ever asked. "Why don't you just cane me and be done with it?" "You are a sassy brat. Don't tell me you weren't aroused." "Damn you. I hate you." With that he squeezed my hardened nipples. "It's not nice to hate, girl. Put away your skirt." His fingers came free of my nipples as I stepped back and unzipped my skirt. I put it neatly with my blouse and bra and retuned wearing just my mini poker dot panties. My fortitude returned enough for me to resume my eye-to-eye contact as he lustfully examined my abdomen and legs. His hairy hands took hold of my bare hips and began to rove about. "Spread." I spread my legs. Oh how I wished I was wearing full size panties instead of these mini ones. But that was a no-no. You see only these mini ones could be tucked into the crease in my ass so as to bare it without my panties being removed. That way he could truthfully say that he had allowed me to wear my panties as I was caned so as to maintain my modesty. What an asshole. With my legs spread his hands caressed my inner thighs. They wondered about over my stomach and my rear and my naked breasts. Now one hand went to my covered crotch which it messaged as his other hand returned to my breast. When his eyebrows lifted as he gave me a knowing smile I could no longer maintain eye contact. Again I went to staring into space over his head as one of his fingers went into the crease in my panties over my lips of Venus. "Nice; huh?" No response. Damn it if my breath wasn't quickening again. Damn it. As my mouth opened to draw in my air I turned my face to one side. His finger was working my panties-covered clic now. Damn it all to hell. He was getting me aroused. Damn it. Damn it. To break the spell I tried to think of my waiting mother and of what she must be thinking as my bedroom remained silent. And I thought of my punished hands. But I was getting even more aroused. Suddenly he stopped. "Don't stop," I whispered. I couldn't believe that I had actually said that out loud. I had meant to say that only to myself. "Time to move along, I'm afraid." With that I felt him tuck the seat of my panties into the crease of my two ass cheeks. Lord if I hadn't almost forgotten about the caning. He stood. "Get the mirror and take position." How well knew this routine. I went to my dresser and took the sizable mirror with handles on each side much like a tray. I knelt down on the bed with my exposed butt up high and searched for him in the mirror. You see he had this rule that I had to maintain eye-to-eye contact with him as he caned my ass. He insisted on his getting double pleasure from seeing my ass reverberate from the impact of each stroke and my facial expression in response. I found him in the mirror almost salivating as he studied my upraised butt with my poker dot panties stuffed into my ass crease awaiting the cane. Then I saw him look into the mirror to check that I was eye-to-eye with him. As I saw him raise the horrid cane far back over his shoulder I closed my eyes and grimaced. I waited. I waited. And so did he for me to watch his attack. Slowly I opened my eyes. When our eyes met he unleased the first cut with a raw vengeance. We stared at each other in the mirror as we both waited and waited. And then with that hideous little smile of his he watched my facial expression change as I felt the first line of fire materialize and intensify. And intensify. And my face grimace in pain. - - - - - - - -