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Sacrifice

By: Bakeboss



My life was on the brink and tilting fast. My wife sick for two years now seemed to be getting worse instead of better and if not for my employee health benefits, her medical bills would be in the six-digit range. At work, we had just been purchased in what only could be called a hostile takeover and everyone was worried about their job. If I lost my job and my health coverage, no matter what happened a new job would not cover my wife's existing illness. Word was my whole department was history, and when the new director came in, I knew I was in trouble big time. She was a woman, she looked tough, and like she was ready to start carnage.

At home, I tried to hide it from Hillary but she saw right through me so I 'fessed up'. 

"Frank we can't lose this insurance, go in there and kiss this bimbo's ass if you have to."

She was right, it was up to me, and I went to work determined to save my job.

I went into Mrs. Perkins office after her curt response of, 'enter' following my knock. I started to speak, but was cut off with a wave of her finger, as she worked on her PC. She was a middle-aged woman soft and overweight with what appeared to be hair on her upper lip. Her suit was too tight and looked as if it had been slept in. I almost shuddered at how unattractive she was but instead I stood there in silence with only the sounds of her keyboard. Finally, she looked up at me, still without speaking she looked me up and down as if judging a prize stallion. 

"Hello Mrs. Perkins, I'm Rodgers, ah, Frank Rodgers, from marketing. I wonder if I may have a word with..."

"Gone, the whole department is gone; you guys couldn't sell scotch to an AA meeting. We'll have our department in here by next week and you guys will be gone."

She came around and sat on the edge of her desk and crossed her legs, I noticed how thick her calves were including what I believe they now call 'Cankles' or ankles so pudgy they look like part of her calf.

"Mrs. Perkins, please I need my job, I'll do anything it takes, but I have to keep my job. You see my wife is..."

Still looking me up and down, she interrupted me,

"Talk is cheap, just what are you implying when you say anything?"

As she talked, she casually swung her shoe on the end of her toes. When it fell off, on impulse I dropped to my knees and picked up the shoe to put it back on her chubby foot. When I looked up, I saw a wry smile cross her face,

"Would madam care for a foot massage first?" 

She answered by putting her foot in my face, her foot smelled as if she had been wearing the same nylons for a week. I just smiled, lightly kissed the ball of her foot and started to rub. She actually gave a small moan of pleasure and when I started on the other foot she left her legs spread apart giving me a view up her skirt showing me she was wearing knee-highs. I knew what to do and after her foot I started working my way up her leg and when I got to her thigh she put her hand on my head.

"That's enough leg work boy put your mouth where momma wants it."

I leaned forward and put my lips to her panties as her hands held me in place. I closed my eyes and pretended as if I was pleasuring a movie star. Soon she was humping my face and then she came with a little squeal. She pushed my face away and I sat at her feet as she wheezed to catch her breath.

"Like I said your department is gone but if you just applied for my assistant, we'll give it a try. Here is my address, pick me up at my house at six-thirty, the door will be open just walk in."

That night I told my wife that I didn't have my job any longer but that I had another with the same benefits, so all would be right with the world. Of course, I didn't mention what I had to go through to get the job. She said that even if I had to be at work at six instead of nine it was a small price to pay but I knew I soon would be paying much more than that for the honor of working for my new boss.

In the morning, I knocked first and then opened the door and went inside.

"Mrs. Perkins, it's me Frank,"

"Back here boy," she yelled and I followed her voice down a hall to the back. She was leaning back against her headboard with her thighs splayed and her gash looking me right in the eye

She put her finger inside herself,

"I got an itch deep inside and you look like you're just the man to scratch it."

Now I knew I was in trouble, there was no way in the world I could arouse myself enough to fuck this woman. Yet she didn't ask for my dick she wanted my face between her legs. After a big wet orgasm, she still wanted more and as she grabbed me by the hair, she flipped me over on my back; she now was astride my face and began to hump me with abandon. How many climaxes did she have, two, five, or ten I just don't know yet as my tongue and my neck ached, she kept at it. When finally sated she got off my face leaving me covered in her girl cum. As she waddled down the hall to her bathroom, she called over her shoulder,

"The kitchen is on the other side of the house, go make me breakfast while I clean up."

I meekly said, 'Yes Ma'am' and went to find the kitchen. I made coffee first, then found eggs and bacon in the frig, and then scrambled them all together. As the toast popped up, she walked into the kitchen wearing a robe. She sat at her table eating as I stood there with no invite to join her. As she finished I washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

"I've decided we have too much to do here today so we won't go into the office. Go back to my bathroom and grab my dirty laundry. Take it to the laundry room over there and you can start with my panties. You better not ruin them, do you hear me?"

"Yes Ma'am," was all I said and went to look for her bathroom. The first nice thing she did to me was bring me a cup of coffee as I was in the laundry room. Since my wife had been sick I had been doing most if not all the housework, even the laundry so at least I knew what I was doing. She walked over to where I had piled her delicate things to be hand washed later. She picked up a pair of her panties and after turning them in her hand a couple of times, walked over to me then put the crotch in my face. She rubbed them on my nose and they felt rough and scratchy from her dried juices that were caked in them. She reached down and took a firm hold of my cock and although I was almost ganging from the stench of her dirty panties, I felt my erection growing in her hand.

She unzipped my trousers and freed my hard-on, then using it as a leash she drug me into the bedroom. She instructed me to undress and as she took off her robe to reveal her nakedness, she watched me undress. Once naked she patted the bed beside her and while I was prone, she mounted me. While holding me she sat on my cock guiding it deep inside her. I couldn't believe I could get aroused by this disgusting woman but once inside her it felt wonderful. I closed my eyes trying to dream up some other woman but she slapped my face and told me to look into her eyes. Always in charge, she instructed me not to cum until she allowed me too and just when I thought I could no longer hold out she came as she screamed for me to do the same. I shot off inside her in a mind-altering climax, I came so much it was running down my dick, making as puddle on my belly.

She got off the bed and picked up my tee shirt to wipe my cum off her slit.

"So tell me boy, is that your first time on Viagra, it sure gave you a boner."

What, she must have slipped it into my coffee. Outraged I started to say something about the dangers of just giving drugs to people but then realizing the hopelessness of it all I just shook my head no.

That night I couldn't look at my wife as I lied about my first day and while I wondered what other horrors my boss would put me through tomorrow. When Hillary said I should be thankful I had a job all I could do was shudder.

Sacrifice



Later, when she looked back on that day, Anna wouldn't be able to explain what drew her to the church. She wasn't a religious woman. Raised Catholic, yes, but she'd left all that behind so many years past, it didn't bear discussing. And yet, that early afternoon some aching need for peace... for Grace... propelled her up the stairs and through the heavy wooden door.

It was a small church. Quaint, with a tiny cemetery attached. It was the sort of humble place that carried a beauty sweeping cathedrals never would. The faded stained glass, the worn pews, the bare wooden floors all spoke of a lean budget but offered warmth and comfort. But it was the stone cross that caught her attention and carried her down the aisle, heels echoing with each click. 

The cross could have been plucked from a dense Irish forest a few hundred years before Christ walked the earth. Tall and slightly battered, but resonating with energy, it stood on a plain wooden pedestal behind the altar. Swirls and knots covered the entire surface. The closer she got, eyes locked on the pagan piece, the more it looked like a cage. As if the curves were bars, holding a nightmare at bay. Some primal creature deep within her mind screamed at her to leave. Turn around, walk away, drive home, but for God's sake don't touch. 

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure she was still alone. If there was a priest on duty, he was tucked away with a good book or a good nap. A smile tugged at her lips as she turned back to the cross. It was glorious. It practically sang of ancient days and cool breezes on starlit nights. She could easily imagine a druid standing nearby, a rack of antlers at his crown, tattered white robes brushing the ground as he moved through seasonal rites. One hand lifted and paused an inch away from the carved stone. The little furry creature trembling in her mind screamed again and she laughed out loud, startling herself as the sound bounced off the pews. If religion taught her anything, it was that there was no such thing as monsters or demons or gods and this was simply a stunning piece of art from a time long lost. 

In the center of the cross, surrounded by intricate knots, rose a simple triskele. While most of the cross had a threadbare feel to it, the triskele stood out as if it had just been carved. She traced a finger over it, intrigued, and yanked her hand back with a startled gasp. Blood oozed from a fine cut and marred a sharp edge of the stone curve. She lifted her finger to her mouth, gently suckling on the wound, irritation wrinkling her brow. And as she watched, the crimson streak soaked into the grain as rain soaks into parched earth, leaving not the slightest hint of colour. 

The air in the church shivered, suddenly far colder than it was a moment ago. She took a step back, and another, suddenly in complete agreement with her inner critter. It was time to go.

Rich, deep laughter rumbled from behind her. 

"Beautiful, isn't it? But with a bite."

Anna spun, gripping the edge of the altar for balance. If the man standing in the middle of the church was the priest, there was no justice in the world. Dark hair fell past his shoulders, loose and practically glowing in the filtered sunlight. Chiseled features held enough sardonic amusement to do Pan proud and the glitter in those blue eyes would take out the knees of any red-blooded girl. He was tall and far too sculpted to be a man of the cloth, but he clearly belonged here. He stood like he owned the place and knew every inch of it intimately. The smile twisting his lips made her feel like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar. A child in serious need of a spanking.

She forced an answering smile, sheepish and chagrined. With a rueful laugh, she moved around the altar. "I'm sorry. I couldn't resist. It's so... unexpected. No tormented figure nailed up to stir guilt."

He laughed again, nodding, "True. I don't believe in guilt. There's not much use in it. We can't help how He has made us, after all."

Anna hesitated half-way to him. Again, the primitive remnants of her soul stirred, lecturing her higher thinking. 

The priest's gaze flickered and he moved forward, holding out a hand, "Forgive me. I don't mean to taunt. You aren't the first one to be entranced by the cross. You may be the first brave enough to touch it, though."

Again with the smile. She gripped his hand lightly, offering a polite how-do-you-do shake, while she blushed a deep spectrum of red. "Well, my grandmother often told me to keep my hands to myself. A lesson I never learned. Anna. Nice to meet you, Father."

Blues darkened slightly as his fingers closed around her hand. "Call me David. Your grandmother was very wise."

"She was. Yes. David, then." Strange. Growing up, she'd have never dared call a priest by his first name. "It's been a pleasure, but I've intruded enough. I'm sure you have mass to prepare for or something."

She pulled gently on her hand, breath catching when he didn't let go. "Ahhh, Anna. You aren't intruding at all. In fact, you should definitely stay for this... mass."

He took a long step forward, forcing her to either move or let him run into her. She suddenly didn't want any more of him touching her and she stumbled back, still trying to retrieve her hand. His smile deepened as he let her go and tucked his hands behind him. She smiled, taking a step to the side. And froze.

A rush of fetid air filled the small church, as if a wind had blown up from the cemetery. She could have sworn she'd closed the door behind her, but the slam of heavy wood resounded, hurting her ears. The candles flared into pillars of raging fire, then went out entirely. But in that flash, the priest was cast in dark shadow. An impossible shadow that had no place in a house of God. A shadow larger than the man, with soaring curved horns and a snapping tail. A shadow that loomed from the depths of every hellish painting and woodcut. Ancient. Primal. 

Anna looked back over her shoulder at the cross, logical denial warring with the image burned into her eyes. The laughter that rose around her this time was frightening. His voice rumbled, soaking in and leaving her no place to hide.

"Clever girl. Yes, it was your blood that released me. Your blood that opened the door. And it will be your blood that allows me to stay. After a fashion."

He moved closer and she lurched back. The I-told-you-so's were dove-tailing with the get-out-get-out-get-out's. She ducked left. He stepped left. She dodged right and he swept an arm upward, knocking her off her feet without touching her. She landed in a heap at the base of the altar, unmoving for a moment. It was just long enough for him to close the distance and lift her by her throat, gazing at her with those same beautiful eyes. The memory of the shadow hovered behind the man. David hadn't changed, but she could see him. True sight had never been so unwelcome.

"I should thank you, precious. You could have been some toothless old hag and I wouldn't have enjoyed this next part at all. But you are ripe. Lush. I will greatly enjoy taking you."

He dropped her on the altar, standing over her while she wheezed and clutched her throat. When she finally gathered her senses enough to struggle, she kicked out with both feet and twisted her body. If she could get to the other side of the altar, if she could put it between them, maybe she had a chance. 

A ripping sound wrapped around the altar, shaking the wooden structure. Thick vines crawled through the air to tangle around wrists and ankles. Anna screamed and flailed, kicking again, tucking her arms tight around her waist. Her efforts only caused pain when the vines snapped down and away, stretching her until muscles burned in protest. 

"You have such spirit. You can not imagine how delicious your fear and fight is after so long of being locked away. "

Panting, Anna looked at him, fury and terror warring for control. He held up one hand. The hand that slapped her halfway across the church. Terror began to win when the shadow surrounding his hand lengthened into talons and flew downward, rippling as the claws touched her shirt. The fabric parted as if sliced by a scalpel. A flurry of darkness and her skirt was a shredded wreck. David's flesh and blood hand caressed her lace bra. He was careful, almost reverent, as he traced the edge, barely touching the swell of her breast. Anna trembled. Thoughts slid sideways, leaving her clinging to prayers she'd almost forgotten. 

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee..."

David paused, listening.

"Blessed art thou amongst women..."

He began to laugh, fingers sliding along cleavage and downward over her shivering belly.

"And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

Darkness clutched the fragile silk at her hips and snapped outward, tearing the cloth away.

"H... h... holy Mary, mother of God!"

Laughter as hands rubbed her thighs. She could feel fingers, almost tender, stroking. She could feel claws scraping. Two became one became two. The panic was blinding as she felt both step between her legs. The cold of shadow burning, the heat pouring off flesh. 

"Pray for us sinners..."

"Yes... pray. Call to the god you have denied so long!" Triumph made his voice an ugly, guttural thing. Anna pulled at the vines, sobbing. She couldn't remember the last line and somehow, it seemed important. In the midst of this nightmare, this thing that could not be happening but was, the last line was so terribly necessary. She fought to remember and escape. He would take her body, but she could save her mind. If only she could remember.

Hands were digging into her thighs now, holding her wide open. Cool air rushed over exposed folds a moment before the tip of his cock nudged. He sighed and she whimpered, shaking her head. She wanted to beg him to stop, but she hadn't finished her prayer. He slipped into her, just enough to stretch her and give her a taste of what was coming. Already her skin was straining. Burning. 

"P... pray... pray for us sinners..."

A little more, splitting her. He was breathing heavy, holding himself in check as he watched the beauty beneath him. She could feel his eyes drinking her in, savouring every drop of fear.

"Now and at the hour of our ohgod!"

He drove into her, ruining her prayer and snapping what was left of her mental grip. She arched and screamed as he tore her open. Her cries danced with his bellow. His hands came down, gripping her breasts, mauling until the lace split. He leaned forward, hunching over her, bucking in short jabs. His breath was hot as he growled in her ear, using the sound to ramp up her already debilitating fear. He took, pounding into her until flesh swelled and bruised. His breath quickened, searing her cheek. He groaned, then rose up and slammed in deep, howling his pleasure.

When he pulled away, sliding out of her with a wet, clutching sound, Anna dared open her eyes. It was over. It had to be over. He reached down and slid a finger over abused flesh. He dipped in, curling, then dragged out. With a chilling smile, he lifted his finger to her lips.

"Now, you will beg."

He rubbed his seed on her tongue, watching intently as she winced and tossed her head, choking. But the scent and taste soaked in and her head began to spin. The church blurred, fading in and out, tipping and spinning. Heat lashed at her skin, racing up and down. She struggled to breathe, knowing she had to fight the need blossoming in her belly. Once more, his hands trailed over her. But this time, there was no warmth. There was only the chill of the shadow. She blinked as he began to blur as well. He seemed to grow. Taller. Thicker. Wider at the shoulder. As she watched, sliding deeper into the ache, the shadow that had surrounded him transformed him. Horns gleamed with an inner light, fire flickering at the tips. Huge leathery wings unfolded and blocked out the back of the church. The tail she'd caught a glimpse of snapped against her foot, slicing the skin. She tried to scream, but a moan of hunger painted the air instead. She wanted him. She needed him. She had to give herself to him. Now.

"Please!"

Rumbling laughter shook the building. The vines slithered away, freeing her. She could run. Could scramble off the altar and maybe escape. At least try. The tiny primal beast begged and she rose up on the altar, meeting his blazing eyes. 

And then she turned, bracing herself on hands and knees, offering herself to him, "Please!"

Talons ran over the smooth skin of her ass. "Please, what, mortal?"

She blushed. Anna didn't speak this way. But she wasn't herself and what she did or did not do was irrelevant. She needed. 

"Please... fuck me!"

Cold hands gripped her hips. So cold. Holding her steady. He bent his head and snaked a thick tongue over dripping folds. She moaned again, rocking back. His tongue swept up, scraping the tight dark star between her cheeks. Another moan. It felt so good. How could she possibly fight now? 

He stood, placing a hand at the small of her back. He gripped his shaft, stroking it, rubbing it over her until she was writhing and pleading with strangled, senseless words. This time, he gave her no warning. He simply shoved his cock deep into her ass. Her screech of blinding agony fueled his lust and he clenched a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.

"Look at the cross. Look at it!"

Pounding into her. Slamming so hard her knees scraped on the altar. She was gasping for air, sobbing and groaning. Pain and pleasure no longer held meaning. There was no distinction. Only the hunger for more, no matter what it did to her. Flesh split and bright scarlet streaked over his driving cock. As she bled for him, as she took his brutal abuse, the lines on the cross began to fade. The bars of his prison retreated until only the triskele remained. What was left of Anna understood. And cried in that understanding. She had let him loose and destroyed the only thing that could contain him. 

Still he slammed into her, holding her by the hair. His voice cut through everything, snarling a single command and she arched, jerking against his thrust, shrieking on the waves of release. Once again, he filled her, lava-hot liquid searing. 

He let her go and stepped back in one smooth motion. She collapsed, clinging to the wood. The overwhelming hunger left her as soon as he pulled out and she was left with the memory and the pain. She curled into a ball, shaking. Sobbing. 

"Anna."

She closed her eyes.

"Anna."

No. No no no. She wrapped tighter.

"Anna!" Snarled, demanding.

The scent of him flared and she lifted her head, peering through the tears.

David stood in the middle of the church, straightening his priest's collar. "Good girl. Thank you for your... assistance. I expect to see you here for mass on Sunday. "

He turned and walked out, not bothering to open the door. As forgiving oblivion wrapped around her, dragging her into unconsciousness, one thought held on. 

She needed to find something proper to wear to church.



Sacrifice



Soaring Eagle had been chanting for eight tedious hours. His brow wet with perspiration his lips chapped from licking. His eyes rolled back in his head. 

Soaring Eagle felt the hot sensation of Umbed Crane Foot. Finally the great sex spirit had entered the sacred circle. In a cup in the center of the circle was semen mixed with vaginal secretion donated from members of the tribe. The body fluid soup was simmering atop a small fire. The musky scent of fuck filled the tent. Umbed appeared before Soaring Eagle, as was usual he was nude and displayed his huge erect cock. 

"From my constant sexual feast you have called me forth Shaman. What do you offer me? Offer it quick before I strike you with impotence for the rest of your life." Umbed said.

Soaring Eagle prostrated himself before the mighty erection with a god attached to it. 

"Oh great cocked one, listen please to the request of the Chickwanka tribe. We request great hard erections and copious loads of love lava. In return we offer you the most beautiful doe in our tribe, the chief's daughter Mink Snatch." 

"I will be the judge of your offering Shaman. It is agreeable to me. I have the power to give your tribe gushing loads and unquenchable cocks. But, if I find Mink Snatch lacking, then I will take my displeasure out on your warm pink ass." Umbed said.

I wave of panic passed through Soaring Eagle. He know for a certain that Mink Snatch wasn't the most beautiful woman in the tribe. No indeed, his own daughter, Soft Cleft, was far more beautiful. Soaring Eagle was protecting her. Last season Umbed had raped the tribes offering so fierce the poor fawn died. She bleed from her cunt for days, a ruptured artery deep inside ripped on account of Umbeds over zealous ram boning. 

A moment for decisive action was upon Him. Should Soaring Eagle offer his own sweet loin fruit or stick with the lie that Mink Snatch was the best split tail in the tribe?

Soaring Eagle picked up his sacred drum and began to beat it. That was the signal. Outside Hairy Bear and Weasel Tooth Bug Fucker led Mink Snatch to the Tee Pee. 

The doe ducked and entered before the fleshy incantation of Umbed Crane Foot. 

Umbed was an intimidating sight. He stood seven feet tall. Lean and hard, his upper body looked like many smooth river rocks. The great god of fuck removed the tiny thread holding back his mighty mane of black hair. He stepped toward Mink Snatch his throbbing appendage swayed like the limb of a mighty oak. Soaring Eagle quickly undressed Mink Snatch. He pushed the nervous girl toward the god. Umbed's enormous cock poked her in the sternum. 

"Take taste the meat of a god." Umbed said. 

She reluctantly did as she was told. Mink used both hands to stroke the thick shaft as she opened wide as possible to allow the giant cock head into her mouth and down her throat. 

"Yes child, work that ear of corn. Our tribe depends on your skills. Suck for your family and friends. Do it for them." Soaring eagle said. 

The encouragement helped. Mink became more aggressive. She stroked faster and sucked indomitability.

Umbed looked at Soaring Eagle. He nodded in approval. The young squawl was doing a good job. 

Mink gagged, drool dripped down her chin. Umbed rammed his hips. His cock gored down her throat. 

Umbed looked at the doe's lush mound of pubic fur. 

"I see why they call you Mink Snatch. Lie down Chickwanka, see if your slit can contain my mighty trunk." 

Mink Snatch laid on her back. Umbed pushed her legs up, ankles to ears. He pushed his swollen gland against her virgin vagina. To Soaring Eagle it looked like someone was trying to push an entire apple into a babies mouth. He prayed she was wet and elastic or Umbed would split her wide. 

Little by little the tiny hole accepted the prodigious peduncle. MInk Snatch screamed. Tears ran down her temples. An earthworm sized vein bulged on her forehead. 

Her agony aroused Umbed. His manhood swelled even more. In and out he pounded her pussy. His entire cock couldn't nearly fit in her vaginal canal. Micro tears rivered out from the top and bottom of her vagina.

Soaring Eagle sat back on his rump. Wide eyed he watched the god of fuck turn the doe around and plunge her from behind. The young girl's head flopped around like it was supported by and old bow string. 

"I will fill this tight Chickawank nest with my holy flow!" Umbed said.

Outside the tent Soft Cleft found her father's peace pipe. He had been looking for it earlier. He was most upset he wouldn't have it for the ceremony. Certainly it wasn't too late she figured. She would bring it to him. Oh it would please him she knew, he always had his best pow wows with his sacred pipe. He loved to hold his pipe. He loved the way it felt in his hands. She knew he did, sometimes he would even let her have a go on it. She rushed passed Hairy Bear and Weasel Tooth Bug Fucker ducking into the tent. The two indians looked at each other and shrugged. 

When Soft Cleft barged into the ten, Umbed had an index finger up Mink's ass third knuckle deep.

Soaring Eagle saw his beautiful daughter and his semi erect penis shrunk and sucked inside him like a frightened turtle. No! What was that foolish girl doing her? This was the same damn way her mother would act, bursting into his private ceremonies at the worst possible moments. Like the time she caught him fucking a turkey. It was for the tribe bitch! It was for the fucking tribe, why did you have to go and tell everyone? Fucking cunt, sometimes he was glad the white man raped and murdered her. 

Umbed noticed her beauty instantly, he was after all, the god of fuck and lust. 

"Who is this fine animal shaman? Is she from your tribe?" Umbed asked.

Soft Cleft at the sight of the tall man with his dick up Mink's pink trembled and clutch her father's pipe to her massive breast. The pipe poked up between her tits and almost poked her chin. 

"Oh Great Umbed Crane Foot, take no heed this is only my daughter, she is of no account, she certainly doesn't rival Mink Snatch in beauty. She is slow and her pussy has a horrible oder. No man will come near her. She also has a tail master, urr um yes, a tail. like a fox. But the tail is hairless, its a most unfortunate deformity." Soaring eagle stammered. 

"You lie shaman! She is certainly not! She is a gorgeous fawn. I would much rather fuck her sweet tang than this chubby flat chested hair pie." Umbed shoved Mink aside. She flopped on her side. Her hairy pussy gaped open stretched from the enormous dong.  

"You will pay for your lie Shaman. Go girl strip your father." Umbed said.

"Father, I brought your peace pipe." Soft Cleft said.

"OH have mercy Umbed." Soaring Eagle said.

"Now girl! Do you know who I am? I am a god in flesh. Go and strip your father or I will strike this tribe with horrid genital diseases!" 

"Father?" Soft Cleft said.

"Its true my daughter, do as he says. Do it now or we will suffer calamity." Soaring Eagle said.

"Go, removed your father's loin cloth. On your hands and knees Shaman. Now girl...lick his asshole." Umbed ordered.

Soft Cleft did as she was told, she knelt behind her father. She pulled apart his ass cheeks. A waft of excrement and sweat tickled her nose. She looked her father in the eye. Her eyes said, really? I must do this? She looked close to tears. She looked back at Umbed. His huge cock was close to her face it curled up, the head looked like the slimy snout of a buffalo. 

"Do it child, I'm sorry, but we must do this for the tribe. Think of the tribe. Besides if we fuck this up they will just scalp us anyway." Soaring Eagle said.

"Yes lick girl. Stick your tongue in his ass, now!" Umbed commanded.

Soft Cleft buried her face in her father's ass. She licked the wrinkly red orifice. 

Umbed jacked his cock. 

"You, ugly girl. suck my balls and finger my asshole."

Mink did as she was told. It was difficult but she got both chicken egg sized balls in her mouth. 

"Really get that ass wet girl. Spit on it. Finger it. Now suck it again. Yes. Pull those ass cheeks far apart. Good. Play with your tits. Yes good. Those are huge melons you have. Yes I like how they feel. Don't stop, lick your fathers ass. Suck out his shit and eat it, yes good." Umbed said.

"Now back off, I will teach this shaman a lesson." Umbed knelt behind Soaring Eagle. 

"You don't lie to me shaman, or this is what happens." Umbed rammed his huge cock into Soaring Eagle's anus.

"Ahhhh!" Soaring Eagle cried out. The pressure was unbearable. It felt like a reverse shit. His elderly anus immediately ripped and bled. The blood lubricated. It allowed Umbed to cram more length in. 

Outside the tent indians heard Soaring Eagle screaming. They wondered if he was being scalped. But they knew better than to interfere with his work. His sex rituals made him revered in the tribe. They all knew tonight would be a night of heavy supernatural fucking. 

Soaring Eagle's anus began to relax and soften. Umbed went wild. He fucked that red man's ass like it was his legacy fuck. Blood flowed down the back of Soaring Eagle's legs. Umbed's balls had popped out of Mink Snatch's mouth and then repeatedly slapped against Soaring Eagle's shrunken genitals. 

The fuck god instructed Mink to eat out Soft Cleft's pussy. Mink ground her face in Soft Cleft's ample black bush. Umbed watched the girls as he pounded Soaring Eagle in and out. The Shaman shivered in shock, the pain was too much. He was near to fainting. He felt like his butt had been torn wide open. Like he fell from a tall cliff right onto his ass.

Umbed cried out as he ejaculated. Soaring Eagle could feel the copious hot load flood his colon. Umbed cam a lot and for a long time. He pulled out and was still cuming. He stood over the girls and showered them with long thick squirts of his cock snot. 

"Ah, get up Soft Cleft. Get your mouth to your father's ass." Umbed said.

She did. She was crying. Her father's ass was a wrecked bloody hole. 

"Get your lips right up in it. Good. Now suck, suck as hard as you can. Suck out my load. Suck out my semen. And don't eat it, hold it in your mouth."

She did as she was told. It was nauseating work. The stink of shit, the strong musk stink of Umbeds semen, and the coppery salty taste of blood all were nearly impossible to hold in. 

"Got a good mouthful?" Umbed asked.

With big squirrel cheeks Soft Cleft nodded.

"Good little indian. Now feed that to your father. Go on, don't you dare hesitate. Do it now." Umbed said.

Soaring Eagle and Soft Cleft pushed their mouths together. They opened wide and she hocked all that load down her father's throat. 

"Where are you going little indian. There is more, he wants more. Do it again." Umbed said.

She did as she was told. At this point she was like 'fuck the tribe'. But she had to do it to save her own skin. She knew her father was right, if this ritual went band they would kill her father and the older men of the tribe would pass her around, they would be impotent from Umbed's curse but out of spite they would still fuck her with peace pipes, and that would fucking hurt. 

"Good, now go fetch another load and feed it to Mink. My, all that ass play has giving me the urge to shit. Open your mouth Shaman. I can see you are still hungry."

Umbed squatted over Soaring Eagle's face and pinched out a huge shit. The long turd went down his throat and hung out the side of his mouth. 

"Now I will try that sweet cunt. Come here Soft Cleft. I still have much fucking to do." Umbed said.

And fuck much he did. He fucked Soft Cleft in the pussy, the mouth, between her jumbo tits, and in the ass. He blew his load on her face. It was a mask of semen. He made Soaring Eagle and Mink Snatch eat all his spent load off Soft Cleft's head. 

After all that Umbed Crane Foot blessed the tribe and returned to the realm of the gods.

Soaring Eagle held the two girls. The three sat together weeping and grinding their teeth. After some time Soft Cleft asked, "Why father? Why?"

Soaring Eagle thought for a moment and simple said, "Sacrifice."



Sacrifice



Thanks to BlueStarGrrrl for her editing assistance. A very short story, a request from an editor.



The slab was cold, the surface against my naked skin leaving my body chilled, my nipples hard, taut. I remembered little about what had happened, feeling lightheaded only to awaken, my eyes having a difficult time focusing, seeing the surroundings as if through a gauze curtain. The cathedral like building, the pentagram on the wall, the murmurs, almost chanting like sounds filling the enormous room.

I tried to move but it was as if my body would nor respond to my mind's command. Laid out like some kind of sacrificial lamb, my clothing gone, my body brazenly displayed as I saw the many figures who drew near, each of them wearing the same robe, their faces hidden behind their cowls. Only one stood out, the one who even now leaned over my, his garment red in color, almost that of blood.

As he pulled his covering back, I could not help it, my look recoiling in horror. The mask was grotesque, like one of those animals on a carousel I had seen once, all showing either tortured faces or a glimpse into madness. The only openings were for the wearer to breath and at his mouth which he placed over my own and with a whimper escaping my lips, his tongue demanded entrance and I was helpless to disobey.

It was as if he were drinking from my very soul, my body floating as I looked down to see the throng as they disrobed, all of them male, each and every one naked with the exception of their own unique masks. All of them aroused, my eyes frantically taking in the sight but unable to run, to move as I felt a sharp pain, the man who had tasted of my kiss, now desiring to taste of my life’s essence, the stiletto in his hand having cut my right breast, blood welling from the wound.

His tongue flickered forth, my eyes wide at the sight of the serpent like appendage. He seemed to savor it like a fine wine before turning, nodding to the many and it became like a feeding frenzy. My body lifted, positioned and within seconds impaled. Men whose bloodlust was only exceeded by their primal need, their physical lust as my body began to be used. I screamed as the first one filled me, like nothing I had felt before, stretching me beyond the limits of any lover who had previously partaken of my charms.

With my cry, my mouth was required, the large man who filled my vision, filling it with his cock and I felt my body react, whimpering around his manhood. I had been positioned on all fours and I felt a third as he pressed against my rosebud, demanding entrance. I shivered as he violated me, taking from me that which I had never granted another before. Tears filled my eyes and to my shame, I physically began to respond.

Hands mauled my body, grabbing pieces of flesh, one by one each of them suckling at my breast, drinking from the well that their Master had opened. I felt as the man inside my womb stiffened, with an animalistic cry filling me with his seed as eager hands pulled him away and another took his place. Another cock slamming into me as my body responded in kind.

Where before I had been a helpless captive, now I was a more than willing participant. I began to writhe, to push against the intruders, my own desires, my body betraying me as I felt yet more desire flow forth. My mouth filling to overflowing, as I greedily partook of my prize. The third who had first tasted my charms joining shortly, only to be pulled aside as the crowds lust and mine grew with each passing second.

The night was long, my body used time and time again, their thirst unquenchable, my own seemingly the same. With each use, my mind fell deeper and deeper into the carnal dream which was unfolding before my very eyes. By the time it seemingly ended, my body covered in not only the desires of my tormentors but also my own, having lost track of the number of times I had found pleasure mixing with pain and welcoming both.

Finally, the one who had started it all came back into view. Still wearing his burgundy garment, his face looking down upon me as I seemed to view it from above where I lay, like a vision in my mind. My body lay open, like a flower, my sex dripping, wanting him, needing him and as he disrobed and I cried out at what I saw. The sound becoming a scream as he filled me, my body feeling as if it were being torn in two. The pain so exquisite, the pleasure so decadent, my need so great.

Where before it had been mortal men who had taken their pleasure from me, this was different. His stamina, his power flowing through my body, the two of us dancing as one. I could feel my eyes roll back in my head as an orgasm like no other gripped me and I rode it like a wave of never ending pleasure. One spilling into the next one, leaving me without a moment to breath. My back arching, my body like a puppet on a string and he held the strings as he made me dance.

Time held no meaning, whether night had vanished into day, the only thing I could think of was I never wanted this feeling to end. Though I felt his need reach its zenith, his body move even faster, my own helpless against the onslaught as with a sound like that of a thousand roars the cavern was filled and so was I. His desire spilling forth, literally overflowing me as I screamed in what I could only think might be madness.

I closed my eyes, my body now shivering violently until I felt a hand touch my face. My eyes slowly fluttered open as I saw his claw like hand extend and I simply allowed him to pull me from the slab to stand next to him. Two approached, a matching garment to their Masters being pulled over my head, covering my body, my face as the chanting began anew.

He turned me, my body now at the point of exhaustion as he lifted me as if I were a feather, the hood falling back as my eyes tried to focus, seeing his own. They swam with blood, the eyes of one who was more than man and as I gazed into them, I saw mine reflected back to me. They too…were changing.

THE END



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Sacrifice



Jen and I met when I was eighteen. I was just starting my freshman year at university and this was to be my first experience checking out the reputedly promiscuous student life. I spotted her the moment I entered the night club and thought she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. To my great surprise she smiled at me when I started dancing near her and we spent the rest of the evening together.

The term had not quite started and my future flatmates had yet to arrive so I was able to take her back there. The moment we entered the flat Jen asked where my bedroom was, indicating that full sex was on the menu but this was instant embarrassment because, not expecting to drop lucky so quickly, I had failed to provide myself with any protection. However, when I admitted my error she happily said it didn't matter because the doctor had put her on the pill. What she omitted to mention was that she had got her prescription only that morning and had yet to take a single tablet. It seemed that the doctor had instructed to start on the pills after her next period and she had naively assumed this must mean she was in the safe part of her cycle, otherwise he would have told her to start taking the pills immediately. 

The result was that six weeks later she turned up pregnant. I immediately said I would marry her before the baby was born. This was for two reasons, the first that I had been brought up to always act honourably but the main one being that already I knew I didn't want to lose her. I had always assumed that Jen was my age or possibly slightly older but although she smiled at my offer, her face did not show the relief I expected. "But I can't get married until I'm sixteen," she said.

Our daughter Chloe was born the day after Jen's sixteenth birthday and we were married two weeks later. I had to quit university and find a job but although always short of money we managed. I did all the overtime I could get and at times worked a second job such as night shift in a supermarket. Sex was always good but due to exhaustion and time constraints often badly limited. I always started off by licking her and there were many occasions when that was all that happened before either she or I fell asleep. I didn't really mind because I actually enjoyed licking more than fucking and I think so did she.

I had always known she had two cocks inside her before me, (with different males, they were both one time events and occurred not long before we met), but when we had been married five years Jen told me more about her past. With Chloe started at school, my wife was able to take a part time job and this eased the need for me to work quite so hard. One relaxed Sunday night while stroking my dick during some foreplay, Jen said reminiscently , "My body developed very early and lads were always wanting to touch me so I became sexually active very soon after I turned fourteen but it was mainly just messing about."

"What kind of messing about?" I prompted eagerly with a feeling of sudden excitement.

"I went to the bike shed or into the woods with a hell of a lot of lads. I gave loads of hand jobs but most of the boys preferred to just finger me and squeeze my tits. There were also some who liked to sit wanking while watching me play with myself. I soon realised that I loved sex more than anything. I'm so happy with our life now that I'm terribly glad you rescued me because I think I might easily have turned into a real little trollop if you hadn't."

Chloe grew into a very pretty happy little girl. She was also very bright, year after year being the cleverest in her class and also the youngest. From very early on she showed promise of equalling her mother's exceptional beauty, if not exceeding it. Jen and I were exceedingly proud and probably spoilt her more than a little. Even so she was the perfect daughter, loving, dependable and never giving us the slightest worry or cause for concern.

As the years passed our sex life fell into a pattern but so called 'vanilla' sex can be very enjoyable. My early preference for giving oral became confirmed but I also got to do far better with intercourse. The problem was always stamina in that I always used to cum in little over three minutes. Desensitising creams and sprays didn't help because I found it hard to maintain an erection but eventually I discovered that the answer was to pull out, calm down and then try again. With practice I got so that I could often manage several withdrawals before finally making a deposit. We even made this into a little game using a wind up egg timer.

I worked as a carpenter for a shop chain that sold pine furniture. I had managed to acquire most of the required craftsman skills but the bulk of my time was spent assembling mass produced machine made components. The years of hard work had caused me to age badly but Jen was the opposite in that she looked little different from when we met and could easily pass for at least ten years younger. She and Chloe were often assumed to be sisters and there were occasions when speaking to me, people referred to my two daughters.

Just after her eighteenth birthday Chloe left home to start university. It was a big wrench and for a couple of weeks Jen and I moped around feeling almost bereaved. This soon eased when we could see how well she had settled in and how happy she was. Then a very short while later she wrote that she had found herself a terrific boyfriend. She said he was very tall and good looking but nothing more. In the following weeks, from letters and phone calls we also discovered that he was a bit older than her, had loads of money and worked in the entertainment industry. Chloe certainly never mentioned he was black – but perhaps we should have suspected, knowing that his name was Jerome.

After starting university the previous summer, Chloe came home for the Easter holidays. From the moment she arrived it was obvious she was very unhappy but she refused to discuss the cause, merely saying it was nothing. On the second morning her mother tried taking her breakfast in bed to cheer her up, only to find the bedroom door locked. After repeated knocking with no response, I managed to break in only to find our lovely daughter unconscious. On her bedside cabinet was a half full bottle of vodka, a mixture of empty paracetamol packets and a piece of tin foil that looked to have been heated. 



A combination of two strokes of luck effectively saved our daughter's life. The first was that after losing consciousness she had been extensively sick and the second that as she had fortuitously been lying on her side, the vomit had gone on the floor instead of being ingested. She was rushed to hospital to have her stomach pumped but then made a quick recovery. Sitting by her bedside when she was able to talk, Chloe explained, "Jerome makes me feel so wonderful and I thought he loved me but now he's chucked me for someone else."

I started to mutter the platitude about broken love affairs not being the end of the world and certainly not worth killing yourself for but my daughter interrupted to say, "That's not why I did it. I've been taking drugs. I thought Jerome was giving them to me but now he says I owe him a whole load of money and must either pay him or work as one of his girls until I have cleared the debt. I just didn't know what else to do."  

"What do you mean 'one of his girls'?"

Chloe explained, "Jerome owns a big old mansion that he's converted into a gentleman's private club and he has a team of six girls who provide sex for the members. I should have guessed he was growing tired of me when he got me to sleep with two of his friends he owed a favour to. Now I'm beginning to think that this was his plan right from the start. He's the kind of man who doesn't give up. I know that he is not going to just forget about me so now I have no option but to do what he wants."

"Like hell you will," I almost shouted, "I'm going to send you somewhere safe where the evil bastard can never find you." I was able to say that with certainty because my sister and her husband ran a residential drug rehabilitation centre in Scotland. It was the perfect answer.

My daughter did not look as relieved as she should. "What if Jerome comes after you either to pay the money or persuade me to work for him?"

"Don't you worry, your mother and I can look after ourselves," I reassured her with unwarranted confidence.

The following Saturday evening, with Chloe safely north of the border, Sarah and I were just settling down to watch TV when a powerful car engine drove up and stopped outside the house. I peered out to see that it was a flashy expensive looking sports car and at that moment the door bell rang. A very tall black man was standing outside when I opened the door. He was at least 6' 4" and strongly built with a handsome but hard face. Smartly but casually dressed, he had an expensive looking watch on one wrist, a gold chain on the other, rings on almost every finger and the gold chain round his neck that looked heavy enough to anchor a battleship.

"I've come for Chloe," he said without introduction.

"You're too late, she's not here anymore," I told him.

He nodded. "I expected as much but it's not that simple. Now are you going to invite me inside or do you want all your neighbours to hear what I've got to say?"

That did make sense and thinking he presented no immediate danger I stood aside and motioned him in. Confidently he strode into the lounge and seated himself in my armchair before taking a long look round the room. "Your daughter owes me £20,000 which is a lot of money. I can't allow debts to go uncollected and I very much doubt if you are in a position to pay it for her. I have a large amount of respect on the street and where I come from respect translates as fear. With absolute authority I can afford to run a relaxed ship but if it became known that someone had stiffed me and got away with it then others would be sure to try their luck."

"What do you expect me to do when my daughter tried to kill herself rather than work for you," I exploded angrily.

Jerome nodded as if he could see my point of view but then said, "She got silly because she couldn't face the thought of me not pleasuring her anymore not because she didn't want to work at the club. I already had her do a couple of tricks for me and she passed with flying colours. Chloe is a very highly sexed girl and she would love the life. This is entirely my fault because I was a bit brutal dumping her. I had intended to break her in more gently over a couple more months but I've got a new prospect who needs all my attention. I don't care a damn about the money but I've spent over six months grooming Chloe and I need a return on that investment."

"I understand what you say but it doesn't change anything," I said in what I hoped was a reasonable voice, "As you say we have no money and I'm not going to either tell you where Chloe is or speak to her on your behalf."

The civilized faced disappeared from the man's face as he told me, "Then sometime soon two of my more unpleasant associates will intercept you, rough you up and break one of your legs. This could easily give you a permanent limp but it will not clear the debt. Look on it as more of a reminder because a time will come when your other leg ends up broken and so on until I get what I want. This is not a threat man, it's a promise, know what I'm saying." 

"Would it change things if I was to work for you instead of my daughter?" Jen asked suddenly.

"What the hell are you saying?" I burst out hardly believing my ears.

My wife turned her face to me and hissed, "Don't say another word. We'll discuss this later." Her words alone would not have stopped my protest but she had a look in her eyes that I had only seen twice before during our marriage, a look that said she would not easily be deterred.

Now at the moment Jen made her astounding offer, I had been watching Jerome's face. His initial reaction was one of amusement but, after that little exchange, by the time I looked back in the black man's direction, his expression had changed to one of half interested appraisal.

My wife was dressed in flat heeled shoes and an old comfortable dress that buttoned all the way down the front. It was clothing for watching TV in private not for showing at her best and I was sure that Jerome would reject her out of hand. I was wrong. 

"Your face certainly has potential so if you are serious get those buttons undone and let me see what else you have to offer," Jerome instructed.

My wife stood and unbuttoned the dress but then just let it hang slightly open. "Come on," the big man said impatiently, "If you want me to look at your body then either flaunt yourself or get rid of the fucking dress completely." 

Jen shrugged the garment off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground but I could tell the acute embarrassment she was feeling. Her underwear was of the sexy variety and I was pleased about that if only for her pride but I cringed at the routine he then put her through, standing on tip toe with legs parted, turning round and touching her toes and finally face him leaning forward while pushing her breasts together with her arms. At the end he announced, "You do have a useable package but I'm not going to give this any further consideration unless you both agree so I'm going to take the liberty of using your facilities to give you chance to decide." With that he stood and headed upstairs.  

The moment the black man left the room I snarled, "Have you gone out of your mind? How can you possibly consider something like that?"

In an instant my wife was crouched in front of gripping my hands tightly in hers. "Howard please be quiet and listen to me," she said fiercely. "I'm going to ask you one question and when you've answered it, tell me if you still want to object."

I nodded, wondering what question could possibly change my mind.

"Imagine that you are walking along the road with Chloe when suddenly there is a large runaway truck hurtling towards you. You've seen it but she hasn't. There's time to either push her clear or save yourself, so which option are you going to choose?"

I nodded, sadly admitting defeat. "I'd save Chloe; there really wouldn't be a choice.

"That is why I can happily prostitute myself to save our lovely daughter from that fate. And my sacrifice is a lot less final than yours would have been. I can put up with some unpleasant stuff for few months but then we can get our lives back on track, as a family. And it need not necessarily be too bad, Female bodies are designed for sex and women have been selling themselves for thousands of years, most of them voluntarily. It's only meaningless sex and as long as we keep our minds strong, it shouldn't really touch us, neither me nor you."

At that moment our tormenter re-entered the room. "So is it unanimous?" he enquired.

"Yes," I said, a word echoed by my wife with far more certainty. 

"OK," he said looking at Jen. "If you can pass a couple of further tests I will let you work for me so we might as well do the first one now. I want you to come over here and undo my zip then take out my cock and suck me off."

Jen turned to me with a stricken look on her face and for a moment I hoped she was going to baulk at the task. She kept glancing up at the ceiling but when I didn't catch on, she said meaningfully, "Howard weren't you going upstairs to check your Emails?" I suddenly realised that she was desperate that I shouldn't see her debasing herself and as I had absolutely no desire to watch, I quickly left the room.

The brain is a strange thing. I arrived in the computer room trembling all over and trying to blank my mind to what I knew was happening downstairs yet five minutes later I was fighting the desire to creep back downstairs to peep round the door. Quarter of an hour later I still had need to resist when I heard the front door close.

I ran back downstairs so fast that I almost fell. Jen had slipped the dress back round her shoulders but had not bothered to refasten the buttons. Rather than looking degraded she looked pleased with herself. "He's got such a huge cock that I could hardly get it in my mouth but I managed. It's so thick my fingers couldn't touch round the shaft," she said, holding up her hand curved into the letter C to illustrate. I've passed the test. At the start he said I was technically good but I needed to keep looking up at him as if he was the only man in the world."

"The conceited bastard" I swore, putting all my loathing into those three words.

"Well, perhaps he is a bit entitled," she said quietly.

The remark hurt me but I didn't argue, instead asking, "What happens now?" 

"I have to go to his club at two o'clock tomorrow afternoon. He's sending a car to collect me.

I gazed at my wife wondering at the fact that she looked so normal after what had just happened. It could have been easy to persuade myself that what she had just described was a total fabrication until, through the gap in her dress, I saw a huge glob of thick white cum clinging obscenely to the cup of her bra. This left me no alternative to accepting that a large quantity of the stuff must have finished up down her throat. It was a sobering thought that, in our almost twenty years together, my semen had only been in her mouth twice and both of those occasions it had been an accidental result of my lack of control.

Next morning, although I had overtime available, I could not face work and rang in claiming a tummy bug. That was a mistake for I would have been far better having something to keep my mind occupied. Jen was busy with her preparation and had little time for me so I just wandered round in a permanent state of tension, constantly glancing at the clock. She spent a long time bathing, even shaving her legs for the first time in more than a dozen years, and then devoted an inordinate amount of effort to her make up. When she finally appeared she was wearing her only really good dress, the one she always wore on our rare nights out. Anyone would think she was going on a very special date not auditioning to become a whore. 

At exactly 2 p.m. a large limousine pulled up outside and a black man in chauffeur uniform, complete with hat, walked up to ring the bell. I opened the door to a man with an unusually squat but broad body and possibly the ugliest face I had ever seen. Jen walked down the hall looking sublime. Giving me a quick kiss she said, "Wish me luck," and then she was gone. I was left with an image of the leer on the chauffeur's lecherous face as he followed her towards the car. 

Once they had driven away I was left with a feeling of calm which thankfully stayed with me for the duration of her absence. This may have simply been resignation but I think a large part was that I could hardly believe that it was true. The progression of events since the previous evening had been totally beyond my experience and the contrast between now and our life a week ago was to almost impossible to comprehend. 

She returned just short of three hours later, somewhat earlier than I had expected. I thought she might possibly be a bit tired but Jen was bubbling with excitement as she told me that she had passed. With natural curiosity I asked what had happened.

"When we got to the club, Obi the chauffeur took me down several corridors to an average sized bedroom. One whole wall was a mirror and there was another large mirror directly over the king size bed," my wife told me setting the scene. "Jerome was standing by the bed, naked apart from a short Japanese style kimono. It came down to his mid thigh but even so I could see the end of his huge cock dangling underneath. He smiled but didn't speak and immediately started removing my clothes. I was pleased about that because I would have felt such a slut if he had made me undress myself."




Sacrifice



I immediately saw the illogicality of that last remark but remained silent rather than interrupt her flow.

"When I was on the bed, instead of fucking me straight away he spent a long time getting me ready, kissing, sucking my tits and working his fingers up inside me. Jerome is a bit like you love because he's very good with his tongue but he didn't use his between my legs. Eventually he put his cock in me, just a bit at a time. It hurt terribly at the start but the pain gradually got less. I tried really hard to please him and by the time he finished I was sure I must have passed but the moment he pulled out Jerome snapped his fingers and Obi appeared from nowhere."

Jen gave a little shiver as she remembered but continued, "I assumed he was there to take me home but I was still completely naked and felt very embarrassed. Jerome put his Kimono back on and then told me that I had to give Obi a good time for the next hour. By the time my new boss had left the room Obi had ripped his uniform off and was coming towards me, eager to start fucking. Jerome must have squirted gallons of cum up inside me but this didn't deter Obi at all. He had a large cock as well without being anywhere close to Jerome's in size. The funny thing was that after a few minutes, his appearance didn't bother me at all."

"Did Jerome make you cum?" I needed to know because the answer was important to me. Somewhere I had read that prostitutes got very little physical pleasure from their activities and on that basis had convinced myself that if my wife only engaged in mechanical acts then I would be able to handle it a whole lot better.

"Yes, they both did, lots of times," my wife told me with total lack of guile.

"When Obi left, Jerome came back in and said that I had passed his test. I smiled a bit smugly and said that I knew he had enjoyed having me. Then Jerome told me that Obi had been the test, saying he needed to know if I would obey orders and fuck a man I had just met and was very unlikely to fancy. He said, 'I watched the whole thing and although he really is a horrible specimen, you didn't hold back at all. I think you may be a natural.' I said that I thought Jerome had been the test but he said, "You won't believe how many classy married women offer themselves to me so you being willing to open your legs wouldn't have proved anything'."

"The mirror must have been two way," I guessed out loud.

Jen nodded. "I realised that too and I had a nasty thought and asked Jerome if Obi was watching while he was fucking me. Jerome just laughed and said that usually watching was the only treat Obi got."

We ate the meal I had prepared and then I had the set up at the club described to me. All the girls usually worked four nights with three nights off. Jen's nights were to be Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, with the last two being the busiest times. Some part time girls helped out at weekends, covering demand on Friday and Saturday then taking over completely on the Sunday to give all the regular girls a night off. The part timers were single mothers, young wives earning pin money and the odd university student. It seems there a lot university volunteers but very few were selected because they had so much opportunity to screw around away from the club.

Concluding her run down my wife told me, "We do four tricks a night and get £50 for each one so working four nights should earn me £800m but Jerome says to only bank on £500 per week. Darling that means that in forty weeks from now at the most, Chloe's debt will be paid off and we can return to our real life. That's less than a year and I might clear the amount that's owed even sooner."

At that moment forty weeks seemed like a lifetime but before I could speak Jen added excitedly, "I've already been credited with £50 for doing Obi but I don't get paid for Jerome because he says I should regard fucking him as a privilege. "

That last remark inhibited me from asking further questions and for the rest of the evening, although never far from my mind, neither of us mentioned how she had spent her afternoon. However, when in bed Jen started behaving in a way that usually indicated willingness for sex but, for the first time ever, I failed to take advantage. My problem was that I invariably started off by giving oral and couldn't face the thought of my tongue touching where the cum of the two black men had been only a few hours before.

I had not realised that my wife would be starting her new career immediately so was shocked when, just before I left for work on Monday, she gave me an unusually long kiss and said. "See you tomorrow sweetheart." At six o'clock that evening she would be checking in at the club at around the time I arrived back home and I would not see her again until after 3 a.m. when she finished working a nine hour shift on her back. Concentration was not my strong point at work that day and the long evening spent alone was perpetual torment.

Jen crept in to bed without waking me while it was still dark and she was fast asleep when I got up to go to work. Although desperate for an update I hadn't the heart to wake her and spent another day producing sub standard furniture. That evening before giving specifics about her activities she told me the pattern that every day would follow. The time between six and nine was for getting ready and relaxing and then the next three hours were paid for by one punter and followed an escort pattern. This started at the in-club restaurant after which the male had at least two hours for sexual pleasure. These liaisons were booked in advance with the girls fully dressed at the start. After midnight it switched to a bordello format, with the girls wearing only bra and panties sitting about in a lounging area until a client came in and selected them. These sessions were limited to an hour and each girl hoped to clock up three before the end of the night.

"I began with a very nice older guy and I couldn't have had a better start," Jen said in answer to my query. "He told me that his wife died two years ago after a long and happy marriage. Feelings of guilt stopped him beginning a new relationship so he got rid of his sexual frustrations by paying for sex every couple of months. He could only manage it once but we talked a lot and I made sure he got value for his money. He was a decent guy and I'd certainly like to fuck him again. The next three tricks were completely different. The blokes I went with were all part of the same stag party and they queued up for me because I was the new girl. All three were boisterous, drunk and never stopped humping. I couldn't believe that screwing could be so bloody exhausting." 

That night in bed, although she had slept into the afternoon, it was obvious that my wife was still very tired so being my caring chivalrous self I never tried for sex of any kind, even though I had managed to acquire a raging erection. I had great difficulty finding sleep so, with my wife slumbering peacefully beside me, I worked on sorting out my mind. None of her encounters had particularly distressed me and in fact her experience had been more in accord with how I had imagined whoring would be.

My work was satisfactory during the next two days and Thursday night I heard about Jen's second night at the club and it seemed to have been worse that the first. "My three hour guy was a self satisfied, selfish, overweight jerk. He'd got a faithful wife and kids at home but seemed to think he had bought me body and soul. There was nothing wrong with the next three but neither was there anything to recommend them. The point is that I've now fucked eight different guys for money and haven't had one sodding orgasm," Jen concluded ruefully. 

I had decided that there was no reason that I always had to start sex with oral so I made a move for intercourse straight away, only to be knocked back for the first time in my marriage. "Look at it my way," Jen said, "You construct furniture every day but I don't see you making any at home during weekends. Well I now fuck men for a living and I think I'm entitled to a day off as well."

Friday and Saturday Jen worked two nights in succession but as I was at home on Saturdays I hoped to spend time with her during the day. In the event, immediately after leaving her bed just before lunchtime she started getting ready to be collected by taxi at 2 p.m. She explained that Jerome was keen that his girls remained free of infections so on Saturday afternoons all his sex workers, including part timers, were medically checked.

I was a bit surprised because I had fondly imagined that condoms would be mandatory but that was far from the case. Club members had to provide a monthly certificate of sexual health so only members guests needed to wear protection and then only if they were unable to produce results from a recent test. "I do prefer bareback," Jen admitted. "With condoms the lubrication gets messy and my cunt starts to feel sore a lot quicker."

When we were finally able to talk late on Sunday I knew without asking that Jen had enjoyed her last two days more than the first. Starting the conversion Jen volunteered that the other girls had told her that the end of the week was always better than the start. They had also said that she would find the job far more fun when she had picked up a few regulars that she liked doing it with. "It's true, because a couple of the guys I screwed gave me real pleasure and both of them want to go with me again," my wife said happily." 

In bed, although Jen was still in a good mood I was afraid of being rejected again but she broached the subject of sex saying, "I was a bit selfish the other night because I wasn't thinking about the state you must be in. You can have me if you want but do try to last as long as you can because I can't be bothered with the stop go routine." 

I still had a mental block about giving oral but this was not my main worry. I knew that I needed to prolong foreplay because intercourse under those conditions was likely to be of very short duration.

Another consideration was that Jen had bathed for over two hours so any trace of other men would have been washed away. So I dived between her legs, only to find that the special flavour I enjoyed so much had also disappeared in the bath water. Even so I was preoccupied with thoughts of the eighteen cocks that had been there since I last licked her.

When I tried to fuck, my fears were realised, my hair trigger undoubtedly worsened by images of those dozen and a half rampant organs. My wife consoled me saying we could try again in a little while. While passing the time she said that the girls had taught her some sexual tricks. The main one was to deal with guys who went on too long and was a way to make them cum before they were ready. Jen laughed and said, "I very much doubt if I will ever need to use that one on you my love."

I immediately benefited from another of the little trade secrets. This was for clients who shot off too soon and was designed to keep them in a state of excitement for their remaining time so that they wouldn't feel short changed. By licking and stroking my dick together with lots of sexual talk, Jen soon got me stiff again and somehow held me at the point of ejaculation for a long time before letting me cum. It felt truly fantastic.

The next three weeks followed the same pattern so I won't bore with repetitive details. Jen really settled into the life and I could tell that she actually looked forward to going in to work. I had come to terms with the knowledge that an increasing number of clients gave her orgasms but it was possibly this which caused me to ask if any of the men she went with were particularly good looking. My wife shook her head and said, "You know I reckon I could describe the size and shape of every cock but the faces of all the guys just roll up into one."

I got so that I could lick her as I always had and, although I still had an occasional quick fuck, most of the time she used her hand to give me almost unbelievable pleasure. It was as if the exquisite sensation of ejaculation which normally lasts mere seconds was prolonged to over three minute's duration. When given the choice I always opted for the hand job.

The fourth Sunday night since she started working at the club we were lying in bed. I had already done my oral and Jen was idly stroking my dick when she remarked, "Your penis is really quite small."

I protested that it was average and when she shook her head doubtfully I reminded that she herself had said she thought I was average very soon after we married. Jen did not deny that but said, "Then I was comparing you to fourteen year old boys and you possibly seemed average but compared to men you're certainly not. I actually think you are very small."

"If you're setting me against Jerome's enormous dong then perhaps I am small," I conceded in a very aggrieved voice. 

"Sweet heart, over the past month I have handled well over fifty cocks and although none were anywhere near to Jerome's in size, neither was any one quite as small as yours. 

I think I made some petulant retort and seeing my hurt Jen was quick to console me saying, "Darling what does it matter? Not one single client has wanted to lick me but you do such a wonderful job and I know that I give you a lot of pleasure with my hand, so can't you be satisfied with that. At the club I get almost more full sized cock in my pussy than I can manage so it's not important to me whether you fuck me or not."

The reason Jen started working for Jerome seemed very valid at the time but it began to seem less so as events progressed. Although I wouldn't want every day to be an ordeal for my wife, I began to feel that she approached her activities at the club with rather too much enthusiasm. I also examined myself and found that instead of still feeling noble I was beginning to wonder if I was unique, asking how many other husbands not only allowed their wives to fuck dozens of other men but also got a tenuous but definite pleasure from the fact?

One night in bed I felt compelled to enquire if any of the other girls had husbands. Without hesitation Jen told me, "Samantha is married. Jodi and Chantelle are unattached but two others have steady boyfriends with one knowing what she does and the other still believing that Elise works in a call centre. Sam's husband Cliff was one of her tricks when they met, so he was very aware from the start and now there are times when he actually helps her." 

"How?" I asked, feeling an involuntary thrill at the news.

"There's a room at the club that can be hired for gang-bangs with Jerome providing the girl if required.

Well Samantha has made this her speciality, mainly because she gets asked for specifically. Cliff is always present looking after refreshments and towels but doing fluffing and cleanup duties when needed. She's trained him to wear high heels but he's naked apart from a baby's bib covering his genitals. The bib has a picture of a dog and the words 'bow wow' printed on it. Sam says that he looks very comical because for most of the time, the bib is pushed up horizontal with his dick poking out underneath, like a small grass snake peering out of a cat flap."

It's true that ignorance is bliss because my question had uncovered information that I would rather not have known and was left even more unsettled in my mind because of it.



When my wife was at home during the day I was concerned to act as if we were a normal married couple so it was only in bed that things tended to get said. It was on one such occasion, while we were mutually fondling, that Jen said, "While thinking back and I've remembered that I actually got into sex earlier than fourteen but there was no touching and it wasn't one to one. I used to go into the woods with a few boys of around my own age and I would remove my underwear. My panties would get passed round with them all having a sniff then I would sit on the ground holding my cunt open for them to see while that sat in a semi circle frantically trying to toss off."

Jen laughed, "I used to charge them twenty pence each and that's when I first discovered the power of pussy. I get that same feeling now and it has made me wonder if I was always destined to end up doing what I do. I could never regret our years of marriage but at the same time I feel that I have missed out on a lot of sex. You could say that working for Jerome is a way of catching up."

This last remark confirmed my growing suspicion that Jen would be reluctant to give up the life once the debt was paid and I unintentionally told her so. There was a long pause and then she said, "I'm glad you brought this up. Jerome does like to bring in fresh girls and as he prefers to have only six on his team at any time this means someone has to leave but he doesn't just dump them. If they want he sets them up as independent escorts with a flat and the necessary connections. He does take a cut and there is an obligation to go back to the club on occasion to cover for holidays and illness but a hell of a lot of money is out there to be made. Jerome also takes care of protection if there is ever any unpleasantness."

"Is that what you want to do?" My feelings were very ambivalent. Part of me yearned to return to the placid contented life but at the same time I knew I would be loathe to lose the almost constant feeling of arousal experienced during the previous weeks.

Jen's hand left my cock as she gripped my hands tightly in hers. "Just think about it Howard," she said eagerly. "All our married life we've been desperately short of money and this could be our chance to be financially secure for the future. I wouldn't even suggest it if you were still as twisted up as you were at the start but now I think that you actually like me fucking lots of men. It need only be for a couple of years and then we could go back to how we were."

I hesitated. The truth was that I was still pretty twisted because a strong element of pain remained and I felt she had rather overstated how much I had grown to 'like' her promiscuous life. On the other hand I was convinced that our previous life had now become a mirage that could never be recaptured.

My astute wife must have sensed me wavering. "If I was self employed then you could be my personal manager. I will need someone to vet clients and keep an eye on me while I am working."



The following week just before my Sunday treat, Jen divulged that Jerome had sex sessions with his girls, one each Saturday afternoon over a six week period. "It's my turn next week and I thought I ought to warn you," she said happily.

I was unhappy with this news, especially as I guessed she would earn no money, so I protested, "It can't be compulsory?"

"Jerome likes to go with the girls to improve their loyalty and discourage them from freelancing away from the club," my wife explained, ignoring my question. 

"Surely he wouldn't force you to if you'd rather not?"

"All the girls want to and really look forward to it being their turn. They all regard it as a big treat."

"What about you?" 

My wife took a deep breath and then said forcefully, "Howard, I feel exactly the same way they do and I'm really looking forward next Saturday." Then in a softer voice she went on, "Darling, try and see it my way. After only having you in me for the last twenty years, I think I must have been very tight. When Jerome fucked me at the interview it hurt badly all the time but he still gave me the most wonderful feelings I've ever experienced. Now, after all those cocks over the past weeks, I'm bound to be a lot looser and without so much pain, having his cock inside me must feel even better than before." 

I disagreed profoundly but having not yet enjoyed my release, I had no wish to start an argument. Even so, the unvarnished fact was that she was definitely crossing a line. Jen's first time with Jerome was under duress and becoming a sex worker had an altruistic motivation but now she intended to fuck voluntarily and purely for pleasure. Despite all the different men she had been with, this would be the first situation that could be actually classed as infidelity. I knew that she had orgasms with clients but that was different. In my repetitive boring occupation, I had occasional interludes enjoying the pleasure of practicing real carpentry so I could hardly deny my wife similar moments but this was different.




Sacrifice



"There's good news as well," Jen with a grin, effectively snapping me out of my introspection. "A week tomorrow I am taking the day off and I'm also swapping my Wednesday shift to Thursday. That means we have a four day break and can drive up to Scotland to see Chloe. I'm even borrowing a car from the club that will be more reliable than our old thing."

Our lovely daughter was very pleased to see us and both Jen and I were treated to tight hugs and lots of kisses. When we were sitting comfortably, Chloe announced that she was free of drugs and that it had been quite easy. Her mother and I immediately offered our thankful congratulations but our daughter went on to say honestly, "Actually, I think I was far more addicted to Jerome and the lifestyle than I ever was to cocaine."

We asked about that side of her problem to which she admitted that she still had to struggle with a craving for her ex lover. "I could leave the clinic now if I wanted but I better stay up here because if I came back I know I would go looking for him. I was so very stupid and I wish so many times that I had done what he wanted. At least that way I would still have chance to be with him sometimes."

The conversation moved on to happier topics but I noticed that Chloe kept giving her mother puzzled looks. Eventually she said, "Whatever have you been up to mum?" 

Jen and I both froze not at all sure what to say. "I can't put my finger on it but you've changed," Chloe went on. "I think is has something to do with your eyes and you certainly seem a lot more alive. If I didn't know you better I'd suspect that you were having an affair. Whatever it is keep it up because it seems to be doing you a power of good." 

We had a very pleasant visit but on the journey home Jen was very quiet and in the end I asked what was wrong. "If you must know I'm feeling very guilty," she said. "When Chloe was in hospital we just took over, not giving her a choice, and now I'm thinking it was the wrong thing to do. I took her place at the club for completely the right motives but perhaps I shouldn't have intervened. She's bored out of her mind up there and I can't help thinking how much fun she's missing. I know she would get as just much pleasure working at the club as I do and I'm beginning to feel that I have stolen her life."

I gave this some thought and a few miles later I suggested, "The difference is that you working for Jerome has a finite duration but I think that if Chloe goes back to the club she will probably be involved in some form of prostitution for the rest of her life. What you are doing is exciting in the short term but I can't see it offering contentment. We owe our daughter the chance to find herself a normal life. You needn't feel guilty because now, instead of saving her from Jerome you are saving her from herself. Over the next few months Jerome's hold on her must weaken and she might find a decent boy friend. At least, if after that time she does return to the club, there won't be the embarrassment of finding you working there."

Jen nodded, "Logically you are correct but I'm having so much fun that it still feels that I'm cheating her. I could never regret marring you darling, having our daughter and all the happiness that you've given me but sometimes I wish that I'd got into this game at her age."

A few more weeks passed following the same routine with nothing specific to report, except that she was now enjoying plenty of orgasms, mostly courtesy of her growing stable of regulars. After supper one Sunday, I headed up to bed filled with anticipation because this was now the only night of the week that I was still almost certain to be allowed penetration. Even so I still spent over an hour orally worshipping her well used pussy. Finally, after scrambling back up the bed we started kissing but after only a minute Jen pulled back to say, "I can taste myself on you," before proceeding to lick all round my mouth and chin.

When all flavour had gone she moved until our bodies were completely separated and announced, "I now understand why you like licking me down there so much. I've tried it myself and I like it, I like it a lot." 

I of course wanted to know more details and at first my wife seemed to regret having spoken but then said, "A couple of weeks ago Jerome announced that he was planning to put on what he calls, 'Big Bang Events' with the first one arranged for last weekend. I didn't intend to mention it in case you didn't like what happened but I've started now so I suppose I better finish."

"What's a big bang event?" I had to ask.

"It's corporate hospitality thing when some organization hires the whole club for a night, usually to stage an orgy of some kind. Last week it was a medieval banquet but another future theme is based on a Roman Bacchanalia. Jerome organises everything and provides the girls." 

"What exactly happens?" I prompted eagerly.

"It's set up in the main hall. There was a big heavy table, large enough to seat twelve on each side with another smaller raised table making the cross piece to the T. Jerome sat in the middle of this table with a couple of the higher ranking from the people being entertained on each side of him. Some part time girls acted as the serving wenches, bare breasted but wearing long cloth skirts reaching down to the ground in the fashion of the period. Jerome's six girls including me, all dressed as ladies in silk dresses that were very revealing but essentially decent, were mixed amongst the guests on either side of the long table. It was very cleverly done to give an authentic atmosphere with a minstrel singing to a lute, two men juggling, a fire breathing act and even a large shaggy wolfhound wandering round eating bones and scraps from the floor. The finishing touch was a virtual log fire burning in a mocked up hearth. There was bread and tankards of ale but the food was mainly meat, roast pork, plenty of barbequed chicken and some smaller birds that were meant to be pheasant but were really pigeons." 

"What about the orgy?" I interrupted. I was very keyed up, eager to hear all the stuff that I didn't really want to know. 

My wife smiled patiently and went on. "Everybody had a great time, eating with their fingers, slurping ale and tossing bones on the floor but when the food was finished the main event began. As soon as the table was cleared, me and the other girls climbed on it and began a slow strip tease. It was very well received with lots of coarse remarks and hands reaching out to grope us. The minstrel had gone so the music must have been pre-recorded.

"When we were naked the girls paired off and started a kind of dance, kissing, rubbing our tits together and feeling each other up. It finished up with us all having our heads between the other girl's legs. I had intended to just mime that bit but as soon as I smelt her sex it was so overpowering that I was soon eating her properly and very enthusiastically. I was with Jodie and she really is a lovely girl but I'll tell you all about her later." 

"While we were doing the lesbian thing it went very quiet. I think the guys flanking Jerome had come down for a closer look and while all eyes were on us the small table in front of Jerome had sunk down leaving him sitting there alone with nothing in front of him. Suddenly there was a clap, all the cunnilingus stopped and we saw that Jerome was now naked with his magnificent dong sticking up like a pole looking oiled, black and evil. His gaze flicked to each girl in turn, pretending to make a selection and finally pointed at Samantha.

She very quickly climbed up until she had a foot on either side of his lap, then slowly impaled herself on his rigid oversized organ. Even though I have had it up me, at first it looked impossible that she could get it all inside her and I think everybody watching thought the same. She managed it easily then began moving herself up and down with no assistance from him. There was perfect silence in the room except for that special squishy sound of cock in cunt. After a couple of minutes I dragged my eyes away from the spectacle to see that there were stiff cocks everywhere I looked, with a couple of guys already cumming just from watching. 

Then suddenly, as if on a signal, everybody dived in grabbing the nearest female body. I quickly had one cock up me, another in my mouth and one in each hand. The serving wenches were still in the room holding jugs of ale and they too were bent over being fucked, their lack of underwear making it easy. Having started the ball rolling Jerome didn't continue his fuck, lifting Sam off his cock and sending her to help satisfy all the rampant guests. It was amazing, a true orgy in every respect.

Maybe it was just the atmosphere but I think some were on Viagra or something because three hours later there was still fucking going on and I'm sure I had some contact with at least half the cocks in the room.

I badly needed distraction from the images her description had conjured up so to change the subject, I reminded, "What were you going to tell me about Jodie?" 

A big smile lit up Jen's face. "My next working night after the orgy, I was in my room during the couple of hours we have for relaxing before the first session when Jodie came in. She said that she had really enjoyed being with me at the orgy and thought that I did as well, so was wondering if I would like to get a bit of practice before the next one. When she said that, my heart started pounding for some reason. Even though I had gone a bit crazy during the lesbian bit in the orgy, I had never experienced those kinds of feelings but I was to find out that Jody actually preferred girls. When I didn't reply immediately, she took this as agreement, releasing a cord that allowed her sarong to simply fall to the ground, leaving her completely naked. With a big grin she leaped onto the bed and threw herself on her back with legs well spread and pointing towards me."

Jen's face was now reliving the past as she continued. "I possibly haven't mentioned but Jodie is mixed race and her skin is a rich golden brown colour. Laid like that her cunt was slightly open and in contrast the inside was a starting deep pink. It looked like a ruby melon with a thin slice taken out and just like a melon the juice was already trickling out before I even got near. It tasted like pure nectar and for the rest of the time I couldn't stop eating her. Jodie has never been with anyone who has had a baby and she's fascinated by my vagina. She licks me as well but most of the time experiments by poking things in me such as large hairbrush handles, plastic lotion tubes and a cucumber. She has only small hands so she even tried fisting me but couldn't quite get the knack. I don't know about other women but if I could lick her whenever I wanted I might easily swear off men altogether." 

"That I would like to see," I said, speaking my thoughts aloud.

My wife gave me a searching look. "It wouldn't be impossible to arrange." She waited for me to respond and when I said nothing, added, "Actually, you could watch other stuff as well if you wanted. For instance, if you were at the club I could easily take a punter into one of the mirror rooms. I haven't mentioned this before because I thought you sometimes liked to pretend that all this wasn't happening." 

"What exactly are mirror rooms?"

"They are rooms with a wall sized two-way mirror where it is possible to sit behind and view what's happening in the bedroom. There are three altogether in different sizes. There are amongst several rooms that Jerome hires out to different groups but they all bring their own females and none of the hostess girls gets involved."

"Tell me more about the mirror rooms," I asked, unable to let the subject drop. I had developed a desire to actually watch my wife 'at work' if only to see if the reality matched my imaginings and was gripped with excitement at the realisation that this might be possible.

"Loads of women are curious about black men and a surprising number of husbands fantasise about seeing their wives being fucked by a big black cock," Jen explained. "Privately it is very difficult to arrange but if they contact the club Jerome can easily find clean hung black males to fit the bill. Some women like another wife in with them for moral support and the cuck hubbies tend to find it easier if they can share notes with another guy who's in the same boat. There can be up to four husbands watching the action."

"Do you have any blacks among your clients?" I wondered. "You've never mentioned any and I had started to assume that Jerome was the only one you went with."

"There are a reasonable number but a lot of them are Jerome's friends and associates."

"Apart from your boss, do you think they are special?" During my many lonely evenings I had spent a long time surfing the net and consequently watched a lot of porn. I derived a strange satisfaction from knowing that somewhere at that very moment, my wife was doing exactly the same stuff that I was watching. My other avenue of solace was cuckold forums where I discovered that I was not some unique kind of freak. The point was that both of these avenues of sexuality seemed dominated by to the concept of black male superiority and I wanted to know if it was true."

Jen gave this serious consideration before saying," It varies. They are undoubtedly generally better at fucking but all of them tend to be overly fond of the 'bitch' word, hair pulling and slapping my arse very hard. The wear and tear is much higher so I hate getting a black guy for the first fuck of the night."

Another two weeks passed without any event significant enough to mention. It was now usual that Jen updated me on Sunday night and for a change it was a forthcoming event rather than the recent past that she wanted to talk about. "There's another orgy next Saturday and it's a bit different," she said. "It's set in Roman times but this one is for more specialised tastes. There will be no part time girls involved so it will be more of a multiple gang bang than an orgy."

"How many men?"

"Up to twenty-four and they'll all be dressed as Roman soldiers. For the banquet there will be lots of olives, grapes and wine but the main food will be venison and wild boar, roasted rare to ensure lots of blood. Towards the end of the feast six male captives are led in, each one shackled to his wife. The men will be naked and the females only partly dressed. It was actually Samantha who came up with this scenario. When the food is finished the wives are reluctantly pulled forward. At first the girls will pretend to struggle, trying to escape and being dragged back by their hair to make it look like rape. They then get fucked by everybody, with their husbands left helplessly attached to the wall and only able to watch."

I was uncomfortable at the way this picture seemed to resonate with me so I said scathingly, "Isn't that a bit sick?"

"You haven't heard the best bit," Jen was almost unable to contain her excitement. "When everyone has had a turn the women lie down on the benches with their legs apart and the husbands are unhooked and pulled forward. With arms behind their backs and a knife at the throat, their heads are forced between their wife's legs where they are made to suck up all the cum. The scene finishes when they are led away into the next room and there are screams and cries as they are supposedly castrated. After that the fucking continues as long as anybody can get it up and with the females now very willing. It's likely to be a rough night but all the girls have been promised a big bonus. " 

One word had become stuck in my head. "Where do the husbands come from?"

My wife laughed, "Don't worry they're volunteers acting the role. Actually most are volunteers but Samantha's hubby is certain to play himself and Bella thinks she can easily persuade her boyfriend to be there. You could as well if you wanted."

I shook my head. "With all those people there it would be too easy to be recognised." It was the best excuse I could come up with on the spur of the moment."

"All the captive men will have shaggy wigs and wear some kind of beard. There will also be face paint so you certainly won't be looking like yourself. They're meant to be barbarian captives and the paint is to simulate wode"

"I don't know," I muttered. My instinct was not to get within a hundred miles of that venue but something else inside me was insisting that I couldn't possibly turn down this opportunity.

"Just make up your mind before you leave tomorrow morning," my wife said impatiently. The volunteers get arranged tomorrow, so if you refuse and then change your mind later in the week it'll be too late." 

I spent an almost totally sleepless night trying to decide, swaying first one way and then the other. By the time it was time to depart for work I still hadn't reached a solid decision and actually tried to sneak out of the house without committing myself but, before I reached the garden gate, Jen called after me, "So is it a Yes or a No?".

"Yes," I said, "YES."

Immediately the words left my mouth I regretted them. It is ironic that, after much mental conflict, I had almost decided to decline the offer and had even planned a little speech to explain my reasoning but Jen's sudden question seemed to have jolted it out of my mind. Before I had reached the end of the road I knew for certain that I didn't want to be involved, so theoretically there was still time to go back and alter my answer but I felt that it would make me seem too much of a weakling to do so. That left me committed but I still clung to the thought that I could always feign illness as a last resort. The next few days passed without Jen making any reference to the forthcoming orgy and it certainly wasn't mentioned by me.

Getting home from work after work on Friday, I found a message on the answer phone in which Jen said that she wouldn't be coming home the next morning, explaining that there were preparations still to be made for the orgy, so that by the time she had slept and with the usual medicals in the afternoon there was little point. My instructions were to be at the club by 6 p.m. to allow for makeup and rehearsals. Jen said that part time girls would be acting as stand-ins to practice the cum sucking scene but I would only need to mime the licking bit. 

Knowing that there was no escape, I became very aware of how disgusting the whole thing was and I couldn't understand how I might have been even slightly tempted by the idea. My stomach heaved at the thought and I had grave doubts whether I could even attempt my task without throwing up. Despite my previous ambivalence, it now seemed unimaginable how any man could even contemplate engaging in that activity.

At nine o'clock Friday night I was sitting in front of the TV with a novel on my lap but the sound was switched down and the book unopened because there was no other thought in my mind except the forthcoming ordeal and I was very aware that in twenty-four hours it would have already started.

Alcohol was no help and I had already rejected the desperation ploys of hurling myself downstairs or jumping in my car and simply disappearing into another life. I was very close to being overwhelmed by panic.

At this critical moment I heard a key in the front door lock and felt a surge of hope. If Jen was home it meant that something had gone wrong, the club had been raided, there had been a fire, she had fallen out with Jerome and been sacked. Before I reached the hall, a kaleidoscope of different possibilities flashed through my mind but I arrived to find Chloe standing there, a large hold-all clutched in one hand. She dropped the bag and ran forward to share a fierce embrace, with me smothering her face in kisses. But after a minute she pulled back to look over my shoulder expectantly and ask, "Where's mum?"




Sacrifice



"She's not here at the moment," I said lamely.

"You mean she's popped round to a neighbours, when do you expect her back? I hope she won't be too long because I've got something important to tell you both."

"She won't be back tonight," I admitted.

"Where exactly is she?"

"I wouldn't like to say."

My daughter looked puzzled. "That's not like mum. She never goes anywhere by herself especially spending a night away from you. When exactly do you expect her back?"

"Sunday morning."

"Oh shit, I was right; she is having a fucking affair. Who the hell is he? How long has it been going on? How do you stand it? I don't know how you can just patiently wait for her to come back to you, straight from another man's bed."

It was imperative to hide the truth but I found it almost impossible to think up a viable cover story, especially with Chloe shooting questions at me like bullets out of a machine gun. "It's not like that. Look let me get you something to eat and drink then I'll explain everything," I said desperately playing for time and possibly digging a deeper hole.

Thankfully Chloe took her things upstairs and I went into the kitchen. For nights when she was away Jen left me some pre-prepared meals in the freezer so I popped one into the microwave. I left my daughter alone to eat, returning with a coffee and selection of biscuits when I judged that she would be ready. As I walked into the room Chloe looked up with clearly with another question on her lips but before she could speak I said, "Your mother isn't having an affair, she is simply spending a couple of nights with an old female friend whose marriage has just collapsed."

I thought I had excelled myself with that explanation but my daughter slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry but I don't believe you Dad," she said. "For a start, if that was the truth you would have told me straight away and not made it into a mystery." 

Unable to defend my lie I chose to say nothing but Chloe was not happy with her deduction. Speaking more to herself than to me, she reasoned, "This kind of affair still isn't like my mother. I can understand her having a fling if there was something she wasn't getting from you but it would be without you knowing. Rear seat of a car in the car park or even in the warehouse with a lusty forklift driver but waltzing off for two whole days leaving you waiting at home is completely out of character. I know she loves you too much to humiliate you like that."

I still said nothing. The way she was thinking I starting to hope that Chloe might yet talk herself into believing my 'female friend' invention but then in a rapid change of subject she again caught me off balance by asking, "Did Jerome ever bother you?"

I think that a one word negative reply would have easily got me off hook but I found myself totally incapable of voicing the lie. I did not actually say 'Yes' but I found myself slowly nodding my head.

A look of excitement flushed my daughter's face, "What did he want?"

"You," I told her bluntly, "At least he wanted to know where you were, if not he expected me and your mother to pay back the £20,000 that you owe him."

"The bastard," Chloe swore, "It was never more than ten grand and I don't think I even owed him that. When he was in the process of getting me hooked, I thought all the coke was free but it turned out that he had booked it all down from the very first snort. Hell, it actually started before that, he had even charged me for the stuff that he rubbed round my gums before I gave him a blow job." My daughter then blushed to the roots of her hair and muttered, "Sorry Dad, that kind of slipped out." 

Her embarrassment gave me a few moments of grace but I couldn't think of a single thing I could say to deflect the conversation. All too soon Chloe regained her composure and asked, "So what happened? You obviously didn't grass on me and I know that after paying for my treatment, you couldn't have that kind of cash to give him."

"He threatened to break my legs if we wouldn't or couldn't give him what he wanted," I told her. Involuntarily Chloe's eyes dropped to my undamaged limbs but before she could make the inevitable remark, I continued, "So to save me and you, your mum offered to work at the club in your place until the debt was paid off."

Chloe looked aghast. "Poor mum, that must have been terrible for her." She sat in her chair shaking her head disbelievingly and finally asked sympathetically, "Was it really, really bad?"

I answered honestly, "Perhaps it was at the start but after a short time she did seem to find it somewhat less onerous." 

Again it took my daughter a moment or two to process my words but then she grinned and said, "Does that mean that my mother actually started to enjoy being a whore?"

"You could say that," I agreed.

"Has she been with Jerome?"

"I nodded, "The first time was part was part of the interview when he was still deciding whether to take her instead of you."

"Then I can see why she took to the game so easily," Chloe said, enlightenment flooding her face, "Once you have had his big thing up you it makes you look at the world in a whole different way." She then paused horrified and blurted out, "Oh God, I need to have my fucking tongue torn out if I keep saying things like that." 

"Don't upset yourself, sweetheart. Say whatever you like, my vocabulary and way of thinking have expanded considerably over the last few months." 

Suddenly a change came over my daughter's face as a new thought struck her and she said, "It must have been terribly hard for you dad, how the hell did you manage, seeing my mother going off to work every time and knowing exactly what she would be doing?" 

Deciding to put on a brave face I conceded, "It was rather rough at first but I've learned to put her activities out of my mind while she's away, as if she was doing a normal job."

It was obvious that Chloe didn't believe me. With raised eyebrows, looking deep into my eyes, she said the single word 'Really?' and I could no longer maintain the lie. "It's terrible," I admitted, "Every moment that she's out of the house, I have a constant stream of lewd imagined images in my head, it's sending me crazy and making me consider doing things that just aren't me."

My daughter immediately lunged forward to throw her arms round me, saying, "You poor, poor man," before smothering my face with kisses. We stood holding each other in tight embrace for quite a long time and I suspect that tears were shed by both of us. When we eventually untangled, Chloe moved back her chair but she had hardly seated herself before saying angrily, "My mother's a selfish bitch." 

"No she isn't," I corrected quite forcefully. "Remember that she sacrificed herself to save you from having to do the same thing and if she is managing to derive some pleasure from the activities as her way of getting through the ordeal, I won't hear a word of reproach said against her."

Suitably chastened, Chloe said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean what I said about mum, I just felt so desperately sorry for you." 

I'm an effort to change the subject, I asked about the important news that she had come down specially to tell us. On hearing my query, Chloe's, face lit up like the sun breaking through a dark overcast sky, as she said, "I intended to tell you and mum together but in the circumstances I better start with you. I'm going to get married." 

"Who is he?" asked happily, restraining the urge to jump up and hug her again.

"He's called Brian and he works for my uncle. I've actually been sleeping with him occasionally since soon after I got up there, at first it was just for the sex because I really needed a shag." After saying that sentence Chloe paused and glanced at me from under her eye lashes before continuing. "Anyway, I soon realised that he's a really nice guy and he's desperately in love with me. I think that I must love him too because he's driven all thoughts about Jerome right out of my head. So we're going to get married, not immediately but perhaps towards the end of next year when we've managed to put a bit of cash together."

I congratulated her and told her how happy the news had made me. "So you won't be going back to the club," I asked, hoping that I had understood her correctly.

Grinning, Chloe shook her head and then said cheekily, "Perhaps that's a good thing because if I know Jerome, he'd insist on us putting on a mother and daughter act."

We talked more about her new relationship and I did hold her in another embrace before she went up to bed but immediately she was nicely settled I called the club, asking that my wife should ring me when she was free. Not knowing what she was doing at any given moment, I had mentally allowed up to two hours before hearing from her but the phone rang less than five minutes later.

With the sound of impatience in her voice, Jen said, "I hope you're not ringing to say that you've changed your bloody mind about tomorrow night?"

"Chloe's home and she knows all about you," I told her without any preamble.

"Shit," Jen voiced the one expletive and there was silence for several seconds before she asked quite calmly, "How did she find out?"

"I couldn't easily explain where you were, Chloe got very suspicious and then when she asked if Jerome had ever bothered us everything came out."

"How did she take it?

"Quite well I think. She's very grateful to you for how far you've gone trying to save her."



"Maybe it's all for the best," Jen conceded.

"It does mean that I can't take part in your Roman bacchanalia tomorrow night, I have to stay home to look after Chloe," I pointed out. "Can you get out of it?"

"Not really, it would need a very good excuse and it's imperative that you-know-who doesn't find out the reason that I would like to be at home. The best thing is for me to carry on as normal and I'll see you on Sunday morning."

My daughter and I talked intermittently throughout Saturday, about her treatment regime, her new beau and inevitably where her mother was and the activity she would be engaged in. I think that eventually we both retired to bed in a relaxed frame of mind. Although I knew in exact detail what would be taking place at the club, for the first time in months, I went to sleep without images in my head. 

Sunday morning Jen arrived home just after six a.m. looking totally exhausted. I was up waiting for her, but after a quick cup of tea and exchanging some words she retired to the bedroom where she slept until the middle of the afternoon. When she eventually did get up I busied myself in the garden to leave plenty of mother daughter time. After an evening meal we enjoyed a family evening, watching TV and hardly talking about anything at all. In bed, Jen was still too sore for sex but I was on a promise for Monday, actually my wife revealed that she was taking a few days off, saying that she intended to rectify my deficit in conjugal rights.

Monday morning we were all three taking a late breakfast, idly watching local news on TV when a newsflash said that the reputed owner of a high class bordello had been gunned down in his office. Later details revealed that he had taken a shotgun blast to his abdomen but instead of being killed instantly, he had dragged himself half way across the floor of his large office before dying. For some reason the office was heavily soundproofed, so no-one knew anything had happened until his body was discovered. There were also large amounts of cash, piled on the desk with thousands more stacked inside an open safe.

In the following speculation, (that TV pundits are so fond of), the most popular theory was that it was a robbery gone wrong, with the killer fleeing after possibly unintentionally firing the gun. Another view held that it was more likely to be a professional hit ordered by some rival in the sleazy sex trade. At this point the dead man could have been several people but the mention that the victim was IC3, (which is the UK police classification for black), made it highly likely that the dead man was Jerome.

After a little effort, Jen managed to reach Samantha on her mobile. Her colleague confirmed the identity of the victim and said that nobody had heard a thing. Talking amongst the other girls had brought up two alternate theories. One was that Jerome had been blackmailing someone important using photographs and recordings taken at the club but all agreed that the killer was more likely to be the boy friend (or even the father) of the girl that Jerome was in the process of 'recruiting'.

My all pervading feeling was one of relief that it was finally all over but the rest of the day was weird with a sombre atmosphere. At different time I noticed that both my wife and my daughter had tears in their eyes and at one point I found them hugging and consoling each other. I found it strange that the two women in the world who thought the most of me, were grieving the man who had threatened to break my legs. 

Postscript.

Everyone eventually cheered up and Chloe spent a very pleasant few days with us before returning to Scotland, to the course and her boyfriend. By the time that another month had passed, during which neither Jen nor I had made a single reference to her recent life, I was starting to believe that it was possible for us to return to how we were before.

One afternoon I noticed that Jen was preparing my favourite meal and when she served it wearing provocative attire I guessed that she had something special planned. She waited until we had eaten and were sitting each with a glass of wine in our hands before announcing, "We need to talk about the future. Jerome isn't around to set me up as an independent any more but I've saved enough from my tips to get myself started and I've got a little red book crammed with the numbers of men who will pay to fuck me."

The shock of her statement left me totally incapable of speech and there was a long silence before Jen laughed and said, "Cheer up. It's easy money and we do have a marriage to pay for remember."



Sacrifice



Maida grit her teeth as she lugged the heavily laden basket of potatoes back to her parent's house. The sun had not yet burned off the early morning fog and the young woman relished the cool mist. Summer had fully set in and the sun spared no mercy for those that worked the fields. Maida grunted and lifted the basket higher, lean muscles tensing under the load. Five strands of blond hair escaped the simple ribbon holding her hair back and she sighed as they lay against the front of her face. When blowing air at her hair failed to move them away from her eyes, Maida sighed again and lay her basket down.

The great keep with its towering wooden walls stood less than half a day's walk in the distance. The young woman watched the silent workers on the wall as she fixed her hair. As much as she hated pulling rocks and weeds, she would never join the men tending to the outside of the keep. Simple wooden platforms hung high above the ground with thick rope. Maida shivered and then knuckled her back before pressing her palm to her chest to pray to the Traveler for luck for the foolhardy men. Before she bent to her basket, she watched a group of horseback soldiers stream from the keep's open gate and then split off in multiple directions.

The farms, Maida thought. They're going for the farms. Two-by-two the men on horse rode hard for the outlying farms. She frowned, wondering if they were looking for someone - an escaped prisoner perhaps. Or, more likely, delivering news of raised taxes. Yet again. Maida frowned as she lifted her basket. Her silent curse for the local lord was said as no prayer. Lord Forun held the land in an iron grip and the high born inside the walls grew fat off of the back of the workers. As a child, she had dreams of living within the walls as a proper Lady. Now... now she wondered whether she'd even find a husband before her back was bowed and her skin was wrinkled.

The rest of her trip was uneventful as always and she began walking faster when a dull ache settled into her shoulders and back. The sun's harsh glare finally cut through the mist as she neared her small house. Two horses were tied to a small post by their front door and Maida could hear raised voices. Her father and mother and another man. She wondered if she should wait until they were done but she worried her father would think she was being lazy. She still bore the bruise on her back from the last time that happened. The young girl set her basket by the door and then entered.

The heated conversation inside the small house stopped as soon as the door opened. Maida's mother sat in the corner, silently shaking with tears. Her father stared stone-faced at the two men from the fort. The two soldiers turned to look at Maida. Both wore chainmail with the hawk crest for Lord Forun. The one closest to her was gray haired and he spoke but not to her.

"Is this the one?" He asked.

"Yes," her father answered. "My oldest girl."

Maida's mother hiccuped with a sob. "Please," she begged. "Please, no."

"Be quiet, woman!" Her father hissed.

The older soldier looked Maida up and down and she wished her gray dress wasn't sloppy with mud. She felt herself unconsciously smoothing the wrinkles down the front. Her mind speculated wildly at what had gone on. Perhaps, she thought. Perhaps he is looking for a bride? He's older but handsome enough. And he has pips on his shoulder. Oh, why couldn't he have come earlier before I'd gone out?

"Fine," the old soldier said. Her mother wailed and then cried out as her father struck her hard across her face. The soldier strode forward and grabbed her by her upper arm. He was not ungentle with his grip. The younger soldier followed in the wake of his superior as they exited.

"Wait," Maida said, her voice trembling with fear of the unknown. "I... I have clothes and a few things. I-"

The soldier gripping her arm led her to the fine chestnut colored horse tied closest to the front door. "You won't need them. Have you rode before? No? I thought not. Hold tight to me and don't talk or you'll bite-"

"Wait!" Maida's father followed the men out of his house. He was larger than both but he shrunk back as the two men glared at him. "You said. You said there was coins."

The soldier holding her turned back to his horse. "Pay the man and then mount up. We need to be back."

The younger soldier grabbed a small bag from his belt. He sneered at Maida's father and tossed the bag on the ground. It burst open and copper coins flew everywhere. The young soldier made for his horse while Maida's father dove for the coins, digging madly through the light mud. The old soldier mounted smoothly and then offered his hand to Maida. She gingerly reached for him and he pulled her up, his grip hard and sure. It took a moment for her to arrange her dress to cover herself and she was sure it ripped as her legs spread. Her mother would be furious.

"Wait! You said there was silver! You said!" Her father looked up at the two men on their horseback.

The younger man spat down on the ground and half-drew his sword, stopping only when his commander held out his hand. Sheathing his sword, the soldier spat again. "Be thankful I don't take your fool head for calling us liars. One. One silver piece. Dig for it in the mud. That's what you dirty pigs do out here, isn't it?"

The three rode hard for the fort and Maida clutched her man hard. As they approached the walled town, Maida began to hear the noise and talk of people working and going about their business. Roosters crowed, pigs oinked and a few rare ducks quacked from small cages atop loaded carts. All being led into the city. Four more riders joined them and each had a young girl or woman behind them. All of the women shared a look of confusion as they were led into the fort.

Maida had only been to the market near the gates so as soon as they left that area, she stared in wonder. Even the muddy streets were lined with straw while most of the pathways were clean. Fancy dressed men and women strolled about or were carried in carriages. A small, child-like part of her wondered yet whether she was being brought to wed but now she grew scared. It made no sense for the soldiers to round up young girls all at once.

The horse slowed to a walk so Maida chanced a question. "Please, sir, what is happening?"

"It's not my right to say. We're there soon." The old man grimaced and then yelled at a small child playing too close to his horse.

Round and round the small group continued to go as more and more riders joined them. Soon, the lord's keep lay straight ahead. People, high born and not, scrambled out of the way of the twelve soldiers as they formed into three lines. They all stopped short of the keep's tall doors and then dismounted. Each woman was helped down from the horse - some gently, some not. Maida eyed the lot of them, crowing quietly in delight that none appeared as pretty as she was. Dressed better, perhaps. Here and there. But, none so slender of neck or high of cheekbone. Maida's soldier stepped to the front and the rest of the men slammed their closed fist to their chest in salute.

"Form lines and follow my lead. Quickly now!" And, with that, they entered the keep. Maida marveled at the paintings on the wall and how cool it felt. Young ladies tittered at the group behind lace fans and painted faces. Maida's momentary pride in her looks fell quickly and she felt shame rise to her cheeks. No. I am quite plain after all, she told herself.

Everyone paused in front of large bronze doors. Her soldier (captain, the other men said) slammed on the doors with the hilt of his sword. After a moment, the doors swung open, revealing the keep's great hall. At the very end of the hall she could make out Lord Forun. At least, she assumed that's who it was. It was his keep, after all. All of the soldiers marched their women to the center of the room and then stopped. The man on the ornate stone seat stood and the soldiers went to their knees. One by one the women also went to bent knee. Maida's soldier, the older one, walked to stand by the lord's seat.

With a surprisingly melodious voice, the lord spoke. "Make them sit." The more intelligent women sat quickly. The slower ones were forced to sit by tugs and pulls. Maida looked shyly at the much hated lord. He was perhaps middle aged, graying with a widow's peak and very, very well fed. His clothes looked to be made of velvet and Maida felt jealousy rise like bile from deep within. Every time she'd been allowed to go to market, she visited the old woman that sold fabrics. And every time, she marveled over the feel of them all. Silk, velvet and more. But, she particularly loved the feel of velvet. Soft like an animal's fur.

Now the lord strolled among them, nose hidden behind a scented kerchief. Two soldiers stayed with the group while the rest fell back line the walls. Maida bowed her head when the lord stopped to look at her. Was it just her fancy or did he appear to stay near her the longest? Finally, the man retired to his throne.

"Some of you may wonder while you're here. Most, no doubt, worry about your livelihood. Or your parents or brother or sisters. Worry no longer." The lord paused to sniff at his kerchief. "There is a dragon nearby."

The women gasped, hands to throat. The woman seated in front of Maida fainted and the girl caught her, gently laying her back down.

"I'll not cut hairs. You're to be sacrifices. All of you. One at a time until the beast is sated and leaves. You-"

An older woman shrieked and stood. Her eyes were wild and she pulled at her hair. With no other words, she made a run for the doors at the entrance to the hall.

Maida's soldier's voice rang loudly in the hall. "Men! Restrain that-"

The lord spoke and the captain fell silent. "Kill her. We've plenty more." Maida caught a brief glimpse of anger in her soldier's eyes.

The younger soldier that rode with Maida hefted a nearby spear and then, with a grunt, threw it full force at the wild women. It took her square in the stomach and the woman howled and tumbled awkwardly. Maida had a memory of her little brother spinning his wooden top and remembering it wobble and clatter made her think of the dying women.

The lord tsk'ed. "Someone shut her up, please. I've no time to listen to the wailing of women. If I wanted that, I'd bed my lady wife." Maida heard the sick crunch of bone and then a wet gurgling noise. "Now, again, it is your duty to your lord to give life and land when told and now you shall. I'll waste no time. You there. You." The lord pointed directly at Maida. "You shall be first as the prettiest of the lot. Perhaps that will appease the monster. You and you," the lord pointed at two soldiers on the wall. "Shall escort the woman. Now-"

The captain stepped forward and spoke. "My lord. I would take their place."

The lord cocked his head at the captain. He stroked a non-existent mustache while he thought. "Are you sure, captain?"

The old man went to his knee. "Yes, lord."

The fat man shrugged. "So be it. Pick one of the carts of food and take the girl. Leave now. The rest are to be taken to the cells below until as such time as they're needed."

Maida felt in a daze. She heard women crying around her as they were led off and she felt a hand on her arm but everything seemed a blur. Sounds, smells, voices - all a blur. Until, suddenly she was outside the keep. Maida now wore a simple white dress. Rather than horseback, she rode in a cart filled with small animals and crates of food. The captain rode next to her.

For the longest time, nobody spoke. The captain stared straight ahead but finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I think this is a fool idea and it wasn't right to take you. Or any of the women. It's a mad plan."

When Maida tried to speak, she found her throat seized by fear. Now, suddenly away from the fort and in the countryside, on her way to a dragon, now her tears came. She felt the captain's hand squeeze her leg and she wished he would hold her and tell her it would be okay. Or to let her go.

Time passed and Maida's dread built. She tried to look at the sun and the trees and the earth in an attempt to have one last look before she was killed but her head ached from her tears and she just wanted to sleep. She opened her eyes when the cart jerked to a stop. "Oh, Father, look at the size of that thing."

And, she did. In the valley below them, a massive red dragon lay in the sun. Maida shielded her eyes from the sun shining off of the thing's scales. She couldn't even guess at how large it was. The fort was the biggest thing she knew and the dragon would easily fit within but... if it stood, it would easily stand taller than the massive walls encircling the fort. Thick black wings lay against the beast's side and even from here she could see it breathing. It had an array of short horns around the crest of it's head and it's long mouth was bigger than a man. Bigger than two men standing astride each other. Maida couldn't see its legs but the thing's tail was curled against its side. The tip of the tail flared into a thick triangle of scales. Large spikes lined the thing's back and they moved in a wave as it breathed.

"Father," the captain whispered. "Father above, give me strength." He glanced at Maida. "Give us both strength."

The horse whinnied nervously but moved when the captain struck it with a rod. Closer and closer they crept until the horse drawing their large cart simply stopped moving. No strike or word of cajoling would move it again so the captain dismounted and then offered his hand to Maida. She stepped down and then fell against the captain and her face was hot with shame and tears and fear.

"Please. Please, sir," she begged. "Please let me leave. Tell the lord the dragon swallowed me whole but let me leave." Finally she felt the old man wrap his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head gently.

"I cannot. I am bound by my oaths as we all are. Come with me, girl." She came and the fear left her. Everything left her.

The air in front of the dragon's head wavered and Maida could feel the heat of it. It's belly was lined by black scales in rows that disappeared under its body. She could now see the muscular legs tucked underneath. Its eyes were closed and the jutting bone above each eye was lined with scales and horns. The creature's lips were segmented, scaled and black. Faint smoke occasionally puffed from the huge nostrils and Maida wondered if she could fit within one. She looked for ears and found holes at the crest of its head, hidden behind more horns. It looked like its skull extended out in a flat, wide bony protuberance that overlapped its neck.

The captain stopped short. "Now what the hell do I-"

The dragon's eyes faintly clicked open. Huge vertical pupils dilated in the afternoon sun. Maida felt her heart tremble and her legs falter but the captain's hand gripped her tight.

"Lord Beast," the captain shouted. "I am-"

The dragon's mouth opened and a blast of heat roared over them. Dagger-like teeth, each as large as a small man and strikingly white, gaped through the maw. A large, black, split tongue worked behind the teeth and the creature sat up, pushing itself up with its front claws until it looked down upon them.

I AM NO BEAST. It rumbled. Maida knew there was no way it had made the words. The thing's mouth stayed up and the tongue lay quiet. WHY ARE YOU HERE? Maida felt her skull vibrate and she wondered if she'd boil where she stood.

"We," the captain faltered. "We bring you tribute. To save our lands."

The dragon blinked with a click and its pupils shrank. TO SAVE THEM FROM WHAT?

"From," the captain looked at Maida, as if she could answer for him. "From your royal self."

The earth rumbled around them in waves. The dragon's head pulled back and Maida could see its belly shaking. Laughing. It was laughing at them.

OF COURSE. FROM MYSELF. AND WHY HAVE YOU BROUGHT THE FEMALE?

"She is to be a sacrifice. Our lord had heard that a sacrificed woman might appease-"

WOULD YOU DIE FOR YOUR FELLOW MEN?

"I-"

WOULD YOU? MAN OF METAL? WOULD YOU DIE FOR THEM IF IT KEPT ME FROM KILLING EVERYONE YOU KNEW AND LOVED?

The captain bowed his head. "Yes." Maida looked at him. The man's eyes were tired. "Everyone I knew... for everyone I have loved are already dead."

AND YOU, WOMAN? WOULD YOU DIE FOR THEM?

Yes, her mind told her. You say yes now. Like he did. Now is when you do it. "I..." Maida swallowed. "I don't want to die." She whispered.

NO. OF COURSE YOU DON'T. YOU DID NOT CHOOSE THIS, DID YOU?

"No," Maida said with bowed head.

MAN OF METAL. TELL YOUR PEOPLE THAT I WILL ACCEPT YOUR SACRIFICE. LEAVE US NOW AND NEVER RETURN. FOR YOUR SAKE AND HERS, THEY ARE SPARED.

The captain bowed and then leaned into Maida. "I am truly sorry." He hugged her quickly and then turned and left.

Maida fell to her knees. Her head ached badly from her tears and her heart hurt. The dragon watched her while the captain left. She heard the horse stomp and whinny and then break into a gallop. Her last shred of hope left her as he did.

WHAT SHALL I DO WITH YOU?

Maida looked up. "What... what do you mean?"

THEY SUPPOSE I SHALL EAT YOU. I SHAN'T. YOU ARE NOT WILD. YOU ARE NOT FREE. YOU'RE THE SAME AS THE SMALL ANIMALS ON THAT CART. CAGED AND MADE FOR SACRIFICE. IF NOT ME THEN IN SERVITUDE TO THE LORD. OR TO YOUR MATE. LONG HAVE I LIVED AND MUCH HAVE I LEARNED OF YOUR PEOPLE. OF YOU HUMANS. MAN AND WOMAN. BETTER FOR YOU IF I ENDED YOUR LIFE HERE THAN FOR A MAN TO TAKE YOU.

An anger arose within her. "It's not like that!" She shouted.

NO?

"No-" Maida thought of her mother. Thought of all the times her father struck her poor mother for daring to speak different. For trying to keep her children safe. "No," she finished, defeated.

YOU ALL MAKE CAGES FOR YOURSELVES. YOUR UNIONS. YOUR FORTS. YOUR TREATIES AND HOMES. IS THAT WHAT YOU WISH? A PRETTY CAGE FOR YOU?

"No."

AND WHAT IS FOR YOU, WOMAN? WHAT IS YOUR WANT?

"When," Maida paused. "When I was a child, I wanted to live in the fort. I got to see it today. The pretty ladies all made up. The lord on his seat. I... There was no place for me. They looked at me with disgust and pity and like I wasn't a person at all. My father beat me and favored his sons, my brothers. I work from before sunlight to after sundown to eat half of what my brothers and father eat. I slave and I work and I... I... I get sold for a bag of coins! Sold away like a pig at a market! And my proud father on his knees looking for the silver promised to him. That... that is my worth. A thing. Meat to be sold so they can live another day. I'm tired."

The dragon's wings flared out to his sides, blocking the sun. The dragon roared and Maida covered her ears from the pain of it.

YOUR ANGER FILLS ME, WOMAN. WE DRAGONS, WE FEW THAT ARE LEFT ARE FREE! WE ARE NO-ONE'S MEAT! WE HUNT. MALE AND FEMALE. IF A MALE MISTREATS A FEMALE, SHE PUNISHES HIM GREATLY AND HE LEARNS OR DIES. WE ARE PROUD AND FREE AND THE WORLD IS OURS. TO FLY. TO MELD THE WORLD AROUND US WITH THE ANCIENT WORDS. TO SOAR ABOVE EVERYTHING AND LOOK DOWN UPON EVERYTHING. WE. ARE. FREE!

Maida's heart roared with the dragon above her. Its words filled her to boiling and she raised her hands and yelled, wordlessly. Her throat became raw and Maida lowered her arms. "I... I envy you." She told the dragon.

The beast lowered its head and carefully watched her. DO YOU? LOOK UPON ME. The dragon unraveled itself, scales screeching and groaning as it stood. Taller and taller the dragon rose, wings spreading with front arms raised until it stood on its heavily muscled back legs. The pure black scales of its belly rippled its lean body and she wondered at the slit between its legs. Briefly she wondered if it was a woman and whether that was a dragon's sex. Wonder filled her as she looked at the creature. Wonder and fear.




Sacrifice



DO YOU STILL ENVY ME?

"Yes," she answered with hoarse voice. It regarded her from on high. It roared fire and a sudden song filled the air. Except, not a song exactly. The air become warm and soft and bright and there was a noise unlike anything she heard. And then, slowly, the dragon reached one of its five clawed fingers towards her. She stood, transfixed. With surprising grace, she felt the tip of its black claw touch her forehead. Her heart raced as she wondered if it changed its mind and would eat her. The claw looked as big as her head.

I NAME YOU MAIDEIRA. WILD HEART. BE FREE OF YOUR CAGE, MAIDEIRA.

The dragon took its claw back and then rested again on its belly. Maida touched her forehead and felt a trickle of blood. A warmth radiated from where the dragon touched her and she shivered slightly. "What-" Maida looked at her arms. Sweat. She was breaking out in sweat. The warmth from her forehead radiated down her body and she gasped as it suddenly roared through her belly and down to her feet. Maida clutched her stomach and fell to her knees, panting like a dog against the sudden fire raging through her. Sweat soaked her dress and dripped from her forehead to the ground. "What did you- Ungh!"

The top back of Maida's dress tore and she grunted. Something cracked deep within her back and she gasped in pain. Blood dripped from her mouth. She looked up at the dragon and tried to ask the question again but the pain inside of her was tremendous. Maida's spine bulged as muscles broke and regrew at a fantastic rate. The tear at the top of her dress split further and she gasped for breath as the dress tightened against her. No, as she grew against the fabric of the dress. Her heart burned with a pain she never knew before. Maida gripped the front of her dress and pulled, shamelessly exposing herself to the creature before her. Her breasts were soaked in sweat and she could feel her nipples aching as they grew erect. Her upper body was completely exposed and she didn't even notice or care. As she watched, the bones of her knuckles swelled. The skin at the tip of her fingers split, exposing raw flesh and bone. Through the redness came a deep black and she felt the way it cut through muscle and flesh. Claws grew from the tips of her fingers as her hands grew to accommodate them. The claws grew until the tips of her fingers were bonded to the hard material.

Maida fell to her hands and gagged. She could feel the vomit coming and her body shook from it. Pain from her belly made her want to cry. Her stomach heaved and she felt her nose burn. With a fierce heave, she vomited, only instead of a stream of liquid and her breakfast, globs of liquid fire flew from her mouth. She screamed as her teeth instantly melted. Her awkward clawed hands reached for a mouth she'd sure no longer existed but the claws touched flesh. Maida heaved again and a stream of fire issued from her mouth while her nose burned in pain. She closed her mouth in panic and felt smooth gums touching. Her tongue was still there and she explored her mouth with it. Everything was dry. There was no spit or saliva in her entire mouth. As she explored, she felt a peculiar sensation at the tip of her tongue and then, it split. She felt the skin pull apart and then her tongue was touching different parts of her mouth. She screamed and another jet of pure white flame issued forth.

Hair fell in clumps around Maida and she felt the wind on her suddenly bare scalp. She had barely enough time to relish the cool feeling before a sharp pain crashed into her face. She felt and heard bones crack in her jaw and face and her eyes watered as her mouth pushed forward. She ground her jaws together and felt her gums itch as new teeth cut through her gums, leaving her mouth suddenly full of blood. Maida spat and the blood was consumed in the sudden red and yellow flame jetting from her throat. Sharp teeth clacked against sharp teeth as her jaw expanded even further. When the pain reached a point she didn't think she could handle, it stopped. Her long, split tongue flicked out and she watched it touch her flattened nose and then curl around her expanded jaw.

The world flared bright and Maida closed her eyes against the sudden light. When she opened them again, the world was awash with colors and details she never knew existed. Everything was more vibrant and bright. She focused in the distance and watched a hawk far away catch a sparrow in flight. Her body pushed and lengthened, skin stretching as her breasts flattened, pulling against her chest. Her spin lengthened to little 'pop' sounds again and again and she lay against the ground, grinding her fangs against each other. New ribs grew in a row down her body, stabbing against her flesh as her body pushed out. From the base of her spine a mass of flesh snaked out and she could feel it sliding and pushing against her bottom. Flesh against flesh. Her bare feet broke and the same tearing sensation at the tips of her expanding toes. Claws tore into the earth and Maida twisted, clawing at the bottom of her dress, nearly bent in half with the help of the extra muscles along her lengthened spine. Her claws tore ribbons into the simple dress and her legs were freed.

Maida rolled to her back. Her growing tail thrashed at the ground as she roared in pain. Gouts of flame shot from her mouth. Her claws explored her expanding body. Smooth flesh. She could no longer reach her lower belly without bending. Her breasts lay flat and, unseen to her, her nipples pulled to her chest and then untwisted, turning into pure white skin. Slowly, the flesh along her belly darkened. Pure white skin turned darker until the flesh took on the hue of onyx. Maida felt a million small tugs against her body as the skin hardened into scales. Black scales lining her chest and growing faster and faster until it reached her sex. Almost gently, the scales grew smaller around her moist, engorged vagina. The lips of her womanhood darkened to black as scales grew to cover her wetness. She felt new muscles connect to the scales and then those muscles tensed, pulling the scales open to reveal her still human sex.

Flesh tore and speckled around Maida's thighs and they expanded greatly. Golden scales grew in patches over the rest of her body. Maida rolled to her stomach and stretched, bones and joints cracking, thick tail crashing into the ground. She roared again in pain and a pure streak of white and blue flame melted everything in front of her. And then Maida howled as skin split in her back, tearing the newly formed scales. Wet black flesh pushed through the tears. Further and further until the leathery skin lay against the ground. Maida trembled and her new wings fluttered weakly. Golden scales covered her back and legs and she felt skin puckering and moving along her arms as the scales crept down to her fingers. Muscles bulged in her back and her wings lifted up from the ground.

For one brief moment, Maida was completely off of the ground, born into the air by her wings. Skin pushed from the back of her skull as it expanded, bone pushing out into the dragon's crown. In place of the antler-like horns the other dragon had, two long, black curved horns grew from other side of her skin. Maida could feel her tail moving - could feel the flesh of it against the ground. And, suddenly, could feel the now-familiar growth of new scales down the length of it. Jet black scales that matched her smooth belly grew from the base of her spine and down and around her tail in a spiral until the very tip was covered.

Maida looked around and the world was different. She was half the size of the other dragon and hadn't even noticed. With each breath, the furnace roared inside of her. She could feel the new muscles controlling her wings. She could feel the thick muscles of her tail undulating behind her. She could even feel the small and delicate muscles that controlled the scales covering her sex. The pain of her change lessened while she continued to grow. Maida went to her knees and looked down upon herself. Ribbed black scales covered her belly and chest. Her completely flat chest. She watched her tail whip left and right. Her dense claw-tipped fingers touched against her giant thighs and the screech of sound made her shiver. The sound... Maida touched the side of her head. Like the other dragon, her ears were gone. In their place was a bony growth around large holes.

The world made beautiful music around her. The wind sang, the grass hummed and the trees raised their voice in a harmony beyond anything she could imagine. Everything was just... more. She felt her heart swell deep within the armored cage of her chest.

Finally, she looked at the other dragon. He was no longer a beats. He? Yes, she could see it somehow now. Some subtle differences that told her it was a male dragon. The shape of the face. The cut of the jaw. The way the bones covered his eyes and ears. He was beautiful. Like a fancy smith's puzzle that suddenly came together, her mind suddenly saw him for who he was. Fast. Beautiful. Slender. Strong. His green eyes were the color of the most perfect gem. The red scales lining his body caught the light in a way that almost made them shine with all of the colors.

She didn't notice when she stopped growing. So caught up in her examination of the male dragon was she that she didn't notice her continual growth. The pain had become nothing. And now it stopped. Her tongue flicked at as her nostrils flared. She looked down and watched as the slit she'd noticed earlier between the male's legs parted. A giant, smooth bulbous penis bulged through the exposed flesh. She felt something inside of her expand and burn. Deep within her lower belly. A liquid fire poured through her bowels and, before she realized what was happening, the muscles over her sex relaxed, exposing herself.

I AM RAIDA. WINGED GLORY. Raida reached a clawed hand out to touch Maida's jaw. Her tongue flicked out and touched his fingers. YOU ARE IMMENSELY BEAUTIFUL. He told her. SPREAD YOUR WINGS FOR ME, MAIDEIRA. SHOW THE WORLD YOUR MIGHT. SHOW THE WORLD HOW FREE YOU ARE. ROAR, MAIDEIRA.

And, she did. Maida moved the muscles of her back and her wings cracked open. She felt her power. She felt the world around her. She roared and showers of flame filled the afternoon sky. She luxuriated in the heat of her breath and the gaze of the sun above her. The wind howled its greeting to her and she roared again.

When she spoke, the words formed for her. I AM MAI... MAI-DEER... MAI-DEER-UH.

MAIDEIRA. Raida said. I WILL TEACH YOU THE WORDS. AND WHAT SHALL YOU DO NOW, MAIDEIRA?

She turned to look at the male. Everything was possible. But, where should she begin? WHAT SHOULD I DO, RAI-DUH?

The male laughed. I AM NOT YOUR LORD, MAIDEIRA. YOU ARE FREE. YOU ARE ONE OF US, NOW.

Maida thought. WILL YOU WAIT FOR ME, RAI-DUH?

YES. I WILL WAIT.

The captain lay his sword on the floor in front his lord. On bent knee he spoke. "My wife died while I was at war. My sons died fighting that same war. And now I have watched a young girl be sacrificed against her will. I am in exile. I will leave the kingdom. You have my sword and my honor. Do I have your leave?"

Lord Forun's face turned bright red. "My... my... my! You don't-"

The captain lifted his eyes. "Or, shall I take my leave?"

"Go!" screamed Lord Forun. "If I see you again, I'll have you torn apart! Piece by piece! I'll-"

 The captain walked away as the insults streamed from the lord's mouth. A few of the men threw their swords and joined their captain. No-one stopped them.

The captain made a stop at a small farm outside of the village. There, he handed a tearful woman a bag of coins. Gold glinted within. "There is a village three miles south of her that would welcome a widow of such wealth," he told her.

The woman looked confused. "But... But... I'm not a-"

The captain drew his long hunting knife. "Where is your husband?"

An hour later, the captain was cleaning blood from his knife when a shadow slid across the earth. He shielded his eyes and looked up. A golden dragon flew overhead. Golden like the young woman's hair, the captain thought. I'm becoming poetic in my old age. "Men, follow me. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Maida barely felt the arrows as they clacked off of her scales. She ignored the guards on the wall and angled herself for the keep. The wind streamed over her body and her body instinctively closed a second set of eyelids to keep her eyes from drying out. She twisted slightly and then lost track of the wind, suddenly crashing into the ground among a panicked crowd of nobles. When she stood, her body was covered in blood and entrails. She sniffed and he tongue flicked out. The hot copper smell made her belly rumble but she was not yet ready to try eating raw flesh. Maida awkwardly crashed her way towards the keep. Some brave soldiers swarmed her, striking at her body with their swords but she ignored them. She felt nothing but the faint pressure of their blows.

The keep lay in front of her and a platoon of soldiers guarded it. Faced with spears, Maida hesitated. She spread her wings and roared but the soldiers still stood their ground.

YOU STUPID MEN. She told them. Their lives ended in a roaring torrent of blue flame. The front of the keep erupted into fire around a large, newly melted hole. Maida walked into the keep, cracking the building open with her claws. The top of the building came to the middle of her stomach and she waded through the wreckage she caused. The great hall was easy to find and the lord cowered in the corner.

"I'll... I'll... please don't kill me! I have more women to send as tribute! More food! Gold! Gems! Whatever you want!" The man's crotch was stained with piss and Maida flared her nose in disgust.

YOU ALREADY GAVE ME EVERYTHING, LITTLE MAN. Maida's jet black claws closed around the lord. She felt spears bouncing from the scales and spikes in her back as she slowly crushed the life out of the man. Blood and flesh and guts dripped to the floor. Maida shook her hand, spraying the remains across the room. The rough skin on the palm of her hand was covered in blood. Feeling curious and still ignoring the swords and spears clanging against her, Maida's forked tongue flicked against her palm. Rather than recoil in disgust, she relished the deep and nuanced flavor of the blood. It tasted like nothing she'd had before and she wondered what it'd taste like when burned.

Ignoring her hunger, Maida bent low and tore at the floor. Sparks filled the air as her claws tore against tile and wood until she broke through. As gently as possible, Maida destroyed everything below her until she reached the cells two floors down. As carefully as possibly, she broke the bars holding the cowering women.

YOU'RE FREE. TAKE MY ADVICE. DON'T GO BACK TO YOUR FAMILY. MAKE A NEW FAMILY AND BE FREE.

Still ignoring the few remaining fearless soldiers, Maida walked out of the keep. Once clear, she beat her wings once, twice and then took flight. Raida circled in the distance and she cried out a greeting to him. He looped around and folded his wings, screaming towards her before braking to swing beside her.

ARE YOU FREE, MAIDEIRA?

YES. She told him. NOW I AM FREE.



Sacrifice 250



Over the course of the 1000 years of existence for Colony Seven, there have been 249 fertility sacrifices offered to the gods. The time for the 250th fertility festival approaches. Who will be chose as Sacrifice 250?

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2015 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Olivia didn't think that she would be chosen. There were well over a million women in the colony now and only one was chosen at each festival. With odds of one million to one, no woman actually thought that they would ever be The Chosen One... but every four years, as the festival approached, every woman prepared herself, just in case.

Olivia had properly prepared herself. There was no hair on her body below her neck. She had given herself seven enemas, the last two with olive oil so that she was totally clean and permanently lubricated there- at least for the Day of the Choosing. She also had a special festival vibrator in her cunt, quietly keeping her aroused so that she was also well lubricated in front.

On her nipples were two moderate-sized butterfly clamps. They were just snug enough to keep them from falling off. Their looseness allowed them to droop so that they were not quite as obvious through her thin black robe. If she were chosen, the clamps would be tightened and seven fine chains of gold would be connected to act as a leash as she was paraded through the streets of the colony by the seven prophetesses in the long, ritual procession to the temple.

The chance of her being chosen was less than one in a million, but if she were chosen, these preparations would show her willingness- and the willingness of all of women of the colony- to be a sacrifice to the gods in return for the gods' continued gift of fertility. If she were The Chosen One, when the clothing was torn from her body and the clamps and vibrator were displayed to the people, it would be proof to the people and to the gods that all of the women of the colony were prepared to be The Chosen One.

Every woman knew that it was vital to the survival of the colony that she show herself willing to be the one chosen as the fertility sacrifice for the entire planet. Besides, once the ritual orgy began, everyone's preparations would become obvious. Once all clothing was discarded, everyone would know who had- and had not- properly prepared themselves. So, as Olivia had so carefully prepared herself, she knew that, after the sacrifice was chosen and it was NOT her, her preparations would still be known to the gods... and to the other women of the colony. Woe to the woman who had not truly prepared herself.

Many of the men of the colony also prepared themselves in case they might be chosen. In the thousand years since the colony was founded, only eleven men had been chosen, but the possibility still existed. Nine of the eleven had been fertility priests, who, despite their name, were actually self-made eunuchs who served as prostitutes on the Table of Fertility in the Temple of Jarleena's Mother.

It was assumed that the other two men chosen had also been men who secretly enjoyed receiving instead of- or as well as- giving the seeds of fertility. Evidently, only male "receivers" were considered for the sacrifice. Thus, not all men needed to show themselves as willing, and those that did were, in effect, declaring their sexual preferences by "getting up on the table."

The preparations for a man were very similar to those done by a woman. There was the same number and type of enemas. All hair was removed from the neck down- some men removed all hair. The difference was that the men did not use the nipple clamps, and the vibrator, of necessity was inserted anally.

It is almost impossible for nipple clamps to be secured to a man such that they would not pull off if used to lead him through the streets of town. So instead, much smaller butterfly clamps were used for symbolic purposes, and a thin, golden chain, or a large, permanent, cock ring, encircled the base of the man's penis. If the man were chosen, it would be there that the 7 chains of the leash would be connected... unless, of course, the man were a temple priest. For the eunuch-priests, there was a belt of silver chain and a silver vibrating anal hook which came between the eunuch's legs to attach to the chain-belt in the front.

***

This year would be the two hundred-fiftieth fertility sacrifice. It had been a thousand years since Jarleena first spoke the words of the gods and began the ritual. This day was not something which the colonists brought to the planet from home world. When the colony first came to the planet, they did not build a fertility temple. There was no table of fertility. They held no fertility festival. But then, again, when the colony first came to the planet, there was no fertility.

The stark and bitter reality, discovered shortly after arrival, was that the planet- and everything on it- was barren. No children were born. Nothing would grow in the ground. The four-year turnover mark was approaching and supplies were not being replenished.

Four years was supposed to be the make-it or break-it decision point. Each colony planting is slightly different, but for this colony, the master plan stated that if the colony was not self-sufficient at the end of four years, the colonists should re-board the colony ship and jump to the alternate colony site.

There was only a twelve-year supply of food and other necessities on the ship. The colony planet was two years from home planet using the highest speed drives available. The secondary planet was an additional two years away. Admitting defeat at four years allowed for the possibility of a second attempt... a second two-year jump through space... a second four-year time to make the colony self-sufficient. 

But regardless of sustainability on this planet, the trip to the alternate colony planet would never occur. The landing spot, found by long- range robotic scouts, had appeared to be perfect. It was hard, flat, and higher than all the surrounding terrain. The robot craft had made several test landings on the high plateau before marking the planet as a high-level probability for colonization.

The next set of robot scout ships brought back soil, water, and air samples. The decision was made. Planet X47G32B would be the primary colony site for Colony 7. X91G73K would be the alternate. The massive colony ship was built in orbit around the home planet. More than four thousand colonists of all ages were placed in stasis chambers aboard the ship and, with great fanfare, it departed into the darkness of interstellar space.

The scientists designing and using the scout ships, however, hadn't properly accounted for the weight of such a massive ship. Of necessity, the colony ship itself had to descend to the planet's surface. It was theoretically possible for it to launch itself back into space, if necessary, using the thermonuclear engines which had propelled them at such high speeds through space. The unfortunate reality of TN engines, however, was that although setting them off at ground level would theoretically propel you into space, the nuclear backblast would leave a scorched and barren planet behind you.

These highly-destructive engines could never be used on home planet. And they could not be used on an active colony planet. They would only be used for lift-off if the first colony had failed completely and was being totally abandoned.

The colony was failing. But the giant TN engines would never blast the colony ship off X47G32B. And report rockets carried by the colony ship would never be launched to report their dilemma back to home planet. A report rocket was sent back toward home planet the day following arrival. But exactly 43 days after touching down, giant tremors shook the ground and the ship slowly began to sink.

Frantic, 'round-the-clock, work emptied the ship of all necessary supplies, but everything was unloaded by priority, and report rockets were a much lower priority than food and water. The rest of the report rockets were among those supplies still on board when the ship sank forever beneath the rock and sand of the high plateau. Even if the report rockets had been salvaged, it would take the much, much slower rockets almost a century to return to home planet. They could not be used to call for aid. The colony, like all deep space colonies, was totally on its own.

***

How did that tragic series of events lead to this quadrennial festival of debauchery?

It is recorded in the archives of the colony that in the sixth year after launch... after four years on planet... on the very night in which the Council of Sixteen met to discuss Contingency Plan Gamma X, a prophetess arose among the colonists. Jarleena, daughter of Abmola, suddenly stood among the gathered leaders and began speaking in a voice that was not her own. 

"This planet has forgotten how to be fertile," she said. "Every fourth year, on this day, you must choose a woman willing to be a public showing of fertility for the planet. The planet must be able to watch her in the throes of passion so that it remembers what it is to be fertile. She must be filled with seed and with life. Her passion must be the strongest bearable so that the planet can feel the energy of fertility and awaken from its barren sleep. And finally, the woman must be given to the planet through the mouth created by the great ship."

At that point, Jarleena, still in an apparent trance, began to take off her clothing. The voice that was not hers continued from her mouth, "I have chosen this woman as the first of the fertility offerings. Each of you- male and female- must use her severely before the night is through. Then in the morning, bind her and throw her into the abyss created by the sinking ship."

Four years earlier, these fifteen men and women would have spoken as one with a resounding "No!" But the six years since launch had changed these leaders. Two years in the darkness of space and four years of total crop failures had changed their perspective on life. The life of one person- or even the lives of the majority of the colony- had a different meaning now. Survival of any life on this planet was at stake.

The purpose of tonight's meeting was to discuss the necessity of implementing Contingency Plan Gamma X to add to the available survival time for the colony. Gamma X was a plan of last resort which called for the introduction of a virus into the air that would be fatal for up to nine out of ten colonists. Of course, essential scientists and leaders would be vaccinated in advance.

If sacrificing Jarleena- one woman- to whatever power it was that currently possessed her would put off the Gamma X contingency, then what did they have to lose? What is the life of one compared to the lives of many thousands? The decision was made before it was even considered. Besides, hers was not the first sacrifice for the good of the colony. Her name would join the list of those who were lost when they stayed at their duty stations helping stabilize the colony ship as it slowly descended beneath the crust of the planet.

The council members would later say that the decision was taken away from them that night. It was as if something had taken them over and they were merely within their bodies watching while someone else did whatever was done. In reality, most of the council had very little true memory of the rest of that night.

From what little was recorded, it was apparent that the remainder of the meeting that night was nothing less than a massive orgy with Jarleena spread out on the council table. But she was not the only woman on the table. Whatever it was affected all the female members of the council. They tore off their own clothing and attacked Jarleena in frenzied passion or joined her on the table on their backs with their legs spread wide, yelling for the men in the room to fuck them. Even Evonae, who was in a mate relationship with another woman, was on her back begging to be fucked.

There is no visual record of what happened in the council chambers that night. It is known that the meeting continued on until morning, but no one noticed. Because they had been expecting to invoke the Gamma X contingency plan, the Council of Sixteen had declared the meeting to be special and confidential. The cameras which normally broadcast all meetings were turned off. The public galleries were closed. The members of the council had even told their families that they might not be home until very, very late the next morning.

What happened the next morning, however, is clearly known. It was witnessed by most of the colony and video records of what occurred are still in the archives. Shortly after dawn, the doors to the council chamber opened and the entire council marched out chanting something which no one understood. Even the men and women chanting had no idea what they were saying.

They were walking three abreast, packed very closely together. Their arms were above their heads. Supported by their hands high above them was the bound, naked body of Jarleena.

Cries of "What is going on?" came from the crowd which quickly assembled.

Others cried out, "Someone stop them! They've gone mad!"

But the five rows of three marched onward through the colony, across the barren fields, and up to the plateau through which the doomed ship had sunk shortly after they had arrived on the planet.

The chant changed as the fifteen members of the council turned and stood alongside the gaping hole which went deep into the soil. It almost sounded like numbers as together they grunted, "Brou! Droh! Kai!" No one recognized the words or the language but on "Kai!" everyone gave a sudden jumping push and Jarleena's body arced over the side and into the deep hole. As her bound form plummeted head first into the bottomless abyss, a sudden flash of light and flame illuminated the hole as if the planet were welcoming her into its fiery core.

A few moments later the council men and women were staring at each other wondering how they had gotten there and asking themselves why they were naked.

Initially, the security forces arrested them all on suspicion of... of... of... of what no one was sure, but something definitely wasn't right and the head of security effectively declared martial law until things could be sorted out.

Argument about legal responses to the events of that night were heard in every gathering place in the colony for many days. Those arguments were suddenly silenced when, two weeks later, seeds long-forgotten as lost began to push up through the ground in the dusty fields. A month later several of the women of the colony reported to the medics that their periods were late. People watched in amazement as the strange withered posts which dotted the landscape suddenly put forth leaves and new branches. Some even began to bear fruit. 

The barren planet had awakened.

Now the whispered word in the gathering places was, "The sacrifice was accepted."

Shortly thereafter, public discussion changed from legal repercussions for the remaining fifteen members of the council, to how- and when- to plan for next sacrifice. 

***

That was one thousand years ago. The sacrifices have been offered every four years since then. Tonight would be sacrifice 250.

The hour of sacrifice was approaching. Olivia could feel herself being guided to her prophetess position. She had been one of the seven prophetesses for the past five sacrifices. Shortly after 11:30, the seven women of the colony chosen to be voices for the gods, would feel a compelling need to walk to the town square. Set around the square were seven circles of metal. No one seemed to know why those circles were there or when they were put in place, but on the night of sacrifice, they would glow slightly and the seven women would be led to stand in the center of each circle. From there they would act as the voice of the gods to announce The Chosen One.

As midnight approached, all seven prophetesses would go into a trance. At exactly midnight, they would speak in one voice and loudly proclaim, "Shayomie- or whomever- is The Chosen One." Shayomie had been Sacrifice 249.

Somehow, The Chosen One was always also present in the square at midnight to hear the announcement of the prophetesses. Having announced the name of The Chosen One, the seven would then descend on her and rip the clothing from her body. After tightening her nipple clamps, a seven-stranded golden chain would be attached to The Chosen One's nipples, and she would be pulled around the town square- actually a circle- and then through the town in an ever-widening spiral outward until at last they reached the road which formed the outer boundary of the circular city. 

On the last circuit, the procession would turn down the Avenue of Plenty and The Chosen One would be pulled back to the center of town, to the Temple of Jarleena's Mother and the Table of Fertility. 

The temple was built on the site of the original council building. The table was a faithful reconstruction, except for size, of the original table used at the council meetings in the first years of the colony. It was now many times larger and made of highly polished igneous rock, but Jarleena, herself, would still recognize it as the table around which she had sat for so many meetings and on which she was defiled a millennia past.

Olivia felt herself fading more deeply into her prophetic trance. Now everything would become dream-like. When she spoke for the gods, she was able to still see and feel and think, but her words and actions were not her own. It was as if she were a guest in her own body.

She could feel herself swaying. The sacred chant was beginning within her. The time of the announcement was almost here. The town clock made that slight clicking sound it made just before it struck the hour and the entire town... the entire planet... fell silent.

At exactly midnight, the clock chimed the hour. As soon as the deep "bong" of the tower bell rang for the twelfth time... while the echo of that sound was just beginning to fade... Olivia could hear her voice crying out, "I... am... sacrifice... 250!"

That isn't what the other six screamed. They said, "Olivia is sacrifice 250," but Olivia herself claimed her chosenness with the words, "I am sacrifice 250."

Normally, her trance would continue until she and her sister prophetesses had dragged The Chosen One to the Temple of Jarleena's Mother, but tonight, Olivia felt the trance lift as soon as her words left her mouth.

She had been chosen! She was sacrifice 250!

Olivia could see the other prophetesses converging on her from around the square. Before they could arrive, her hands flew quickly to her clothing and she stripped herself bare. Then standing proud and ready with her hands behind her head in the proper posture of The Chosen One, she thrust her breasts forward awaiting the attachment of the chains.




Sacrifice 250



The nipple clamps hurt for a moment as they were tightened, but soon the sensation of pain was replaced by sensations of passion. Buleena, chief of the prophetesses, tightened the clamps and attached the golden chains. She looked confused for a moment as to what to do with the seventh chain, so Olivia opened her mouth and Buleena set the end of the chain between her teeth.

Buleena reached down and slowly massaged Olivia's cunt. The sensations were so overwhelming that Olivia groaned loudly and nearly collapsed. Obviously, something was greatly magnifying the sexual satisfaction she was receiving as the chosen sacrifice.

"The gods have chosen well," said Buleena as she and her sisters began pulling Olivia around the town square.

Olivia did not mean to resist them. She wanted to follow them. She was going willingly. But for some reason, her body was resisting just enough so that tension was needed on the chains to pull her forward with each step that she took. That tension caused the butterfly clamps to tighten further which sent waves of sensations through her body causing her to hesitate in her step which required more tension to pull her forward. It was a rapidly escalating spiral of pain and pleasure.

She could also feel drops of liquid hitting her body. The crowd surged and pulsed around her as they walked. Ornate honey-dippers, held high above the heads of the crowd, were flicked in her direction.

There was very little actual honey in the slots of these elongated dippers. Unlike a ball honey dipper, whose design was optimized for drizzling honey on various pastries, these vaguely penis-shaped devices were primarily symbolic of impregnation. They held, and spewed forth, only a drop or two of honey. But one or two drops of honey, drizzled through the air from thousands of these phallic substitutes, soon had Olivia's skin glistening with sticky sweetness.

If you were located somewhere high above the crowd and watched Olivia's slow progress through the packed throng, you might think that she was a magical, mystical being of some sort. In front of her were the packed crowds jostling to be close to her as she passed. Around her were screaming men and women reaching out to touch her or to cast honey on her body. And behind her in an ever-widening spiral, was a naked sea of copulation.

From the time the sacrifice passed you on the night of choosing, until The Chosen One was cast into the planet's mouth, it was the duty of every adult member of the colony to demonstrate to the gods the act of fertility. All of that sexual energy would be channeled into the Temple of Jarleena's Mother. The sacrifice, lying on the Table of Fertility throughout the night, would absorb that energy. When The Chosen One could stand no more, she would be bound and cast into the mouth of the planet to take that sexual energy directly to the gods so that fertility may continue to exist within the colony for another four years.

The final walk down the Avenue of Plenty was much more raucous and more overtly raunchy and sexual than had been the long walk along the spider web design of city streets which had brought Olivia to the outer walls of the colony. The time of fertility had now begun for everyone in the city. The crowds were still yelling and still casting honey on her, but many in the crowd were also coupled together, screaming out their passion to her as if the energy of their orgasm could somehow be transferred to her.

Olivia had never fully believed all of the myths which surrounded the sacrifice. She was especially skeptical of the accumulation of sexual energy by The Chosen One. But as she walked down the Avenue of Plenty, she could feel power of some sort filling her. It was the power of pleasure. She could feel herself pulling back against the golden chains. She could hear herself calling out in sexual passion. This was more than just an intense, extended orgasm. This was the raw power of fertility.

Lost in her own pleasure, she didn't realize that they had arrived at the temple until Buleena gently pushed her back over the edge of the Table of Fertility. Buleena and the other five prophetesses climbed onto the table with her. Someone loosened and removed the nipple clamps by which she had been led to this spot. Then with all of the prophetesses chanting one of the sacred songs, they began licking the honey from her body. Olivia gasped in pleasure. Six mouths roamed her body. Her breasts... her clit... her fingers... her toes... every place which could feel pleasure was being subjected to an onslaught of tongues.

Around the Table, many other women and men stood waiting. No one else could mount the table until the prophetesses completed their ritual. Finally, their ritual approached its climax. The six women, now all just as covered in honey as Olivia had once been, rolled off of her to lie on the table alongside her with their legs held widely spread. Again, the prophetesses spoke as one in the voice of the gods as they cried out, "Fill us with the power of fertility!" 

Many things happened all at once. Men pushed and shoved to be the first to penetrate one of the prophetesses, or perhaps even The Chosen One herself. Some women knelt to worship the wombs that would receive the offerings of fertility. Other women scrambled up onto the table and mimicked the posture of The Chosen One and her court of prophetesses. 

Some women bent over the edge of the table so as to give any man who came up behind them the choice of either opening in which to deposit their seed. Still other women lay on the table on their backs with their heads toward the outer circle of the table so that they could offer their third opening to receive the seed.

Olivia could feel herself being positioned so that all three of her openings were available at the same time. Five times before, she had lain on the table alongside the sacrifice and wondered if it was really different for The Chosen One.

Tonight, she had her answer, "Yes! It was different!" 

The sex she experienced as a prophetess was almost unbearably pleasurable. She had thought those nights to have been the most pleasure she could possibly withstand, and yet it was orders of magnitude less than the ecstacy which was now coursing through her body. She was on fire. She was being consumed by pleasure. Her body was becoming light. She was fertility itself.

There was no way for Olivia to know how much time had passed. From the thickness of the layer of cum on her body, she knew that she had received the offerings of thousands of men. And from the changes in the noise around her she thought that morning was perhaps approaching. As she tried to look around, she could feel herself being slid across the shiny- and now slimey- table. Hands lifted her. Soft ropes encircled her. She was being carried outside.

Olivia stared at the sky as it slowly changed from dark black to gray to pale blue. She was definitely outside, and it was dawn. It was time for her final journey to the mouth of the planet.

It seemed to her as if she were floating through the town as she rode, flat on her back, on the fifteen hands of the council members. That is how it had been that morning for Jarleena, the first Chosen, and how it had been for the 237 women and 11 men who had been chosen in the years since. On one side of town, the path they were now taking was called The Avenue of Plenty. It led from the town square out to the fertile fields. The same fields which had enticed the colony to settle here. 

On the other side of town... on the other side of the town square... the same road was called The Avenue of Need. At the edge of town, The Avenue of Need became a dusty, rising path which wound its way to the top of the plateau on which the colony ship had landed one thousand years earlier, and through which the ship had descended into oblivion.

As they walked, the council members were chanting the sacred song. Despite years of study by the priests of fertility, its meaning was still unknown. The words- and tune- to the chant were known from the video records of that first night.

If The Chosen One were not a member of council, then the chairperson of council lead the procession through the town and out to the plateau. If The Chosen One were from the council, then a representative of The Chosen One's family would carry the sacred torch, holding it high so everyone in the long procession which followed would be able to see the head of the column. The torch was intentionally made to have a bright, but smoky flame so that it could be easily seen as the night gave way to dawn.

Olivia could feel the rhythmic swaying of the strange bier that bore her to her grave. From the moment she was chosen, she knew that, ultimately, she was chosen to die for the fertility of the planet. Just before this final procession, she had been offered the bitter cup, but refused. She was not afraid. There was no need for drugs to immobilize her so that she did not disgrace herself.

The path was getting steeper. Olivia could feel herself slipping slightly on the hands that held her. The wiggling of fingers working to bring her back to proper position felt strange against her back and legs. It was even slightly erotic as those fingers slipped slightly against and between the flesh of her ass and legs... flesh which was still slippery from her own, and many others', fluids.

The procession stopped. The crowd following began to spread out around the edge of the crater... hole... mouth... created when the colony ship sank. Soon the entire crowd was loudly chanting the sacred song.

Then the signal was given. The torch carried by the leader of the procession was thrown in a high arc into the center of the planet's mouth to illuminate her way. For a brief moment everything became totally silent. Then Olivia felt herself bounce lightly as the crowd shouted out "Brou!" And then, "Droh!" And finally, "Kai!" 

On "Kai!" she felt the hands beneath her bounce and then push upward in unison. Suddenly she was flying forward through the air. She felt her body turning so that she was pointed head down. The hole was becoming darker and darker and darker as she continued to fall.

No one knew how deep the hole actually was. After the sinking, some colonists had attempted to climb down to the ship. It was not possible. No light could reach the bottom of the hole. No measuring device could discern the ultimate depth of the shaft. Olivia took a deep breath, waiting for that final instant when she would be crushed against the rocks or ship or whatever made up the bottom of the shaft.

Then she stopped falling.

She didn't hit anything. She was still head down as though falling, but all movement seemed to have stopped.

Hands were once again on her body. The hands were removing her bonds. They were turning her so that she was upright. There was something beneath her feet that felt like soft sand. A small amount of light illuminated the ground beneath her. A soft voice said, "Follow me."

Soon Olivia found herself shielding her eyes as she stepped through a hatch-like door into a brightly lit room. There were several dozen women in the room, all of them naked. One stepped up to her and said, "Welcome to the control room."

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END OF STORY

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This is the end of Sacrifice 250 after my final edit. Originally I had several more sections which gave the sci-fi-technical explanation of the events in the story. I decided to remove these sections for two reasons. One, they aren't at all sexy. And two, they are boring unless you are a sci-fi geek-type person.

However, since many of my readers ARE sci-fi geek-type people, I am including these segments as an epilogue. Read if you want to. Ignore if you want to. But don't judge the story negatively if you think the epilogue sucks. I warned you what it is... and is not. The Technician.

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Epilogue - Disaster Buoy, Colony Seven

273 years following the launch of Colony Ship Seven- more than two centuries after it was assumed lost- a faint signal was detected from its disaster buoy.

A disaster buoy is a message of last resort which is launched automatically if a ship breaks up in space for any reason. It can also be launched manually if a catastrophe overtakes the ship and there is no other way to report back to home planet. 

Eight years after the first, faint signals were detected, the buoy was within range of a deep space station and the information it contained was able to be retrieved. What follows is the report carried by that buoy.

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Colony Seven has failed in the worst possible way. This planet cannot support life and we are unable to lift off and relocate to the alternate location.

Only days after planet fall, the colony ship began slowly sinking into the ground. Emergency, 'round-the-clock efforts were able to remove almost all essential materials. Lost with the ship however, were all report rockets, the disaster buoy, various repair and maintenance parts, a significant amount of food supplies, and 73 members of the crew, including myself, Captain Harriet Maazman.

As we descended into the depths of the planet, we each accepted our fate and hoped that our sacrifice had enabled the others to offload sufficient supplies for the colony to be successful.

Then the ship gradually slowed and we quit falling. It was as if we were on some sort of giant elevator, which we later learned was exactly what was occurring. Looking out of the port holes of the ship after we stopped, it was obvious that we were in the center of what appeared to be an artificial planet.

The engineers among us were ecstatic to see a technology that could create or modify or move a planet into that thin orbital distance that supports life. Finding a planet with the necessary metals, minerals, and fluids to support life isn't the hard part of selecting colony planets. It is finding a planet which has all that and is also the proper distance from a proper-sized sun so that life as we know it can exist.

It took a few months to figure out how to gain entrance to the planetary control rooms. Once we were inside it took many more months to be able to read the instruments and understand the manuals and procedures. After a while, we were even able to use the surface monitors, though we had no idea how they truly worked.

We could then see that something was terribly wrong up top. Nothing was growing. We knew that plants aboard the ship were dying off, but attributed that to being in the center of the planet. It was after the crops again refused to grow in the second planting season that the cause of the problem became known to us.

Raoul Tobin, one of the chief engineers, was attempting to figure out what a strange cabinet-like device was in one of the labs. Suddenly he started screaming, "Shit! Scheive! Skat! Skit! Mut! Merde! Bok! ..."

Raoul knew over 194 different words for fecal material, and was known to go through the entire list several times if he was really upset. I got his attention with a loud, "Mister Tobin!" which I followed immediately with an equally loud command, "Report!" 

"The word we can't read in the manuals," he began, "the one that talks about the planetary systems." Pointing to the controls on the cabinet, he said, "That is the word and symbol right there." Looking up at me he said excitedly, "And do you know what it does?" He pushed it. "It puts everything in the unit into total stasis. This damn planet is in standby mode."

The words and symbols on the equipment provided the needed keys to the language. Over the next few months more of the manuals were translated. The planet had indeed been placed on standby until the arrival of a colony ship from its creators' home planet. Judging from the dust, corrosion, and other indications of the passage of time, it had been waiting for centuries, if not millennia. 

Hand-written notes indicated that an attempt to colonize had been made at some point, but failed because the planet, for some reason, would not come out of stasis. After six years, the remnants of the colony were evacuated to another location and this marvelous piece of technology was abandoned as sterile and uninhabitable.

As time passed, we figured out many other things. One was that objects thrown down into the elevator shaft never crashed into the bottom. They fell the thousands of feet down the hole gaining speed most of the way, but then decelerated and came almost to a stop before drifting slowly to the floor of the control level.

It was in the middle of the fourth season that we came to understand the true purpose of the sensors which were buried beneath the surface of the planet. They were intended to detect life.

But they did more than that. If someone lived or spent a great deal of time directly over one of the sensors, they somehow became linked to the entire sensor network. We were able to talk to them... or more exactly we were able to talk through them. Others could hear our voices come from that person, or if they were alone, they would later remember what was said. Unfortunately, those through whom we first attempted to communicate were adjudged to be suffering from hibernation sickness, so others would hide or ignore our attempts to communicate.

The sensors appeared to be tuned to emotions in some way. When there was significant activity- especially emotional activity- near one of the sensors, it would register on the monitor panels in the control room. Large family gatherings would cause the indicators to rise slightly. Angry arguments would create an even larger rise in readings. Sexual activity- especially a woman's orgasm- would create the highest readings.

In fact, there was one woman, Jarleena, who evidently lived directly over a sensor, and who was known to own an impressive collection of personal sexual aides. Her almost nightly activities often caused the level indicator to change colors from pale blue to bright yellow.

Three weeks ago, one of the engineers was finally able to translate the section of the manual which dealt with the sensor monitor displays. "Yellow means 80% of what it calls 'trigger minimum,'" he explained. "If we could just get her to go even higher, or perhaps to have something else happening around her to elevate the background levels, it should be enough to trigger the planet out of standby mode."

Earlier tonight, the background levels from one sensor- the one directly beneath the government building- began rising dramatically. "That must be one hell of a meeting," I said aloud, "If we could only get someone to orgasm on top of this, we would have the necessary level."

Turning to the engineers in the room, I added, "But even if we can communicate with someone in that room, how do we convince a bunch of government leaders that they have to have an orgy so the planet will come to life? Who is going to believe something that ridiculous and unbelievable. It's not like I can just order them to offer up an orgasm like a sacrifice to the gods."

"It's exactly that," Raoul shouted as he came into the room. "A communication from the gods is the only thing people will believe without proof. We need a believable prophet and we need a sacrifice to the gods. Jarleena could be both at the same time... and she's already there. She is a member of council; she's linked to the entire sensor system; and she's insatiable sexually. We communicate through her and tell them that the gods of the planet demand that they make her cum like she's never cum before so that fertility can be restored. It doesn't have to be real... or true... it only has to work."




Sacrifice 250



"But she would know the truth of what had happened when she came back to being herself, wouldn't she?" asked another of the engineers.

"Have them throw her down here to us," answered Raoul. 

Everyone looked over at him aghast, and he explained, "We will need to eventually replace our numbers anyway. Someone has to run the control room when we pass on. A sacrifice every couple of years will maintain the necessary crew down here."

He picked up his well-read copy of the planet's manuals. "And from what I can tell, we will have to repeat this peak reading every three or four years anyway to keep the planet from going back into stasis."

So, three hours after nightfall last night, we began communicating through the woman, Jarleena. Since then readings have continued to rise. Additional computers and other equipment are starting to come on line. I am unsure whether the power will remain functional after the levels return to normal, so while power is at its peak, we will attempt to launch our disaster buoy using what Raoul assures me is a pulse cannon designed to shoot things into orbit around the planet. Once the buoy is high enough into space, hopefully its internal programming will take over and it will eventually find its way back to our home planet.

The disaster buoy relies on cosmic winds and random interaction to navigate through space, so it could take many, many years to reach the home planet. If our plan works, there may still be people alive on Colony Seven when you receive this message. If the plan fails, we all will have become part of the dust of this barren planet, but you will at least have the answer to why the colony failed. 

I am hopeful, but much depends on our actions here tonight, and the actions of the people on the surface. Ultimately, however, the life of the colony depends on the surface people, in some fashion, continuing this strange, but necessary, ritual in future years. It is the only way to insure the continuation of life on this planet.

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END OF STORY AND EPILOGUE

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